Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't sue.

Spoilers: I suppose through BtVS S5, but I'm doing some rearranging.

Summary: This is a sequel to "The Great Advantage of Being Alive." If you haven't read it, this one really won't make any sense. In any case, Spike's trying to find out what it means to be a man, and to fight at Buffy's side. Buffy's struggling with what it means to be the Slayer. Dawn wants to know if she's real, and Glory just really wants her Key back.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Archiving: The Sandlot, The Crypt, and anywhere else that already has my stuff.Otherwise, ask and it shall be given to you.

A/N: The title comes from a Pablo Neruda poem. The line actually goes "all the graces of the daybreak" but I liked my pun.
 

Chapter 11: Racing Time
 

"in time of daffodils(who know/the goal of living is to grow)/forgetting why,remember how/ in time of lilacs who proclaim/the aim of waking is to dream,/remember so(forgetting seem)/in time of roses(who amaze/our now and here with paradise)/forgetting if,remember yes/in time of all sweet things beyond/whatever mind may comprehend,/remember seek(forgetting find)/and in a mystery to be/(when time from time shall set us free)/ forgetting me,remember me" ~e.e. cummings
 

Spike didn't get very far. He had just reached the front door when he heard Joyce calling to him. "William? Are you leaving?"

"Uh, was just headin' out," he replied, turning to face her. "Is there something you needed?"

Joyce had an uncertain look in her eyes that Spike had never seen before. "I just wanted to let you know that the doctors want me to go to the hostpital for more tests. I'm going to stay the night tomorrow. I was wondering if you would be willing to help Buffy with Dawn." She looked over at Buffy, who had come to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. "I know you're both busy, but..."

"You don't have to ask," he assured her. "I don't mind a bit, luv."

Joyce gave him a fond smile. "I know. Thanks, William."

He shrugged. "'s not a big deal. Maybe I'll close early tomorrow an' keep Dawn company."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that," she replied, then sighed. "I think we'll probably have to postpone your birthday celebration though. This is when the doctors could fit me in, so I didn't really have a choice."

He shrugged, uncomfortable. "Doesn't matter. I'll still get older."

"And that's worth celebrating," she assured him. Joyce gave him a kiss on the cheek, looking over at her daughter. "Don't stay up too late tonight."

Buffy hadn't known that her mom was going into the hospital for tests overnight. Up till this point, she could imagine that it was going to blow over; she could believe that her mom's illness was an aberration. The sense of having that illusion ripped from her produced an almost-physical sense of pain.

When Spike turned to leave again, Buffy called him back to her. "Spike..."

He paused before turning, having no desire to stay, to feel her retreat from him again. He was tired, too tired to hash this out tonight. What he really wanted to do was to go home and down a couple of drinks to dull the pain. "What?"

"Please."

Spike had never been able to resist a woman's tears, even as a vampire. Well, he hadn't been able to resist the tears of the woman he loved anyway. Dru had bent him to her whim with a whimper and a pleading look, and he found himself in much the same position with Buffy now. "Bloody hell," he muttered, pulling her roughly into his arms.

Her body stiffened and then relaxed, and Spike wondered at his ability to be strong for her. Not that he didn't appreciate the opportunity, but the Slayer's willingness to lean on him was still surprising. "'s goin' to be okay."

"You don't know that," she replied, pulling back, a touch of anger in her tone. His words sounded too much like a promise when the future seemed terribly uncertain.

He gave her a small smile. "'Course I do. It'll be okay because you're strong, an' you can handle anything anybody throws at you."

Buffy shook her head. "Spike—"

"And I'll be right here, luv," he said. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "About earlier. It's just—"

Spike shook his head. "It's fine, Buffy. I know it's hard for you, me havin' been a vampire. It's pretty much opposite everythin' you are, so I can understand you bein' upset."

"No, it's—I just didn't expect..."

Spike released her as she trailed off, turning away. "Buffy, 's not that I'm proud of it really. 's more a matter of rememberin' the moment. It was—" He broke off. There was no way the Slayer could understand that kind of darkness, no matter where her power might come from. "It doesn't matter anymore."

But it did matter, Spike was sure of it. It mattered because he'd been happier at those moments than he'd ever been before, than he might ever be again. The moment of victory had been so sweet, he wasn't sure anything could ever compare.

"I love you," Buffy said, a little desperately, needing to be reassured that this didn't change anything, that it would all be okay.

Spike looked over at her, a little surprised. "I love you too, pet." He sighed. "I should go. You want me to meet you at the hospital tomorrow? An' if you want, I can stay tomorrow night, take Dawn to school in the morning."

"That would be helpful." They shared a brief goodnight kiss, and Buffy could feel the distance that had sprung up between them in the space of a few minutes. It felt like the Grand Canyon.

~~~~~

Spike should probably have headed home after that, but he knew if he did he'd end up drinking alone. There were times he hated the responsibility that sat on his shoulders. Someone had to open the gallery, make sure Dawn was eating something nutritious when Joyce wasn't up to cooking, go over inventory—the list could go on. It wasn't really anybody's fault but his own; he'd taken it all on willingly, and most days it felt good to know he was needed, wanted. Other days he wanted to blow it off, to go back to the days when life was a series of moments strung together on an endless string. Each day the same, each day a little different.

Those were the days when he had looked upon humans with amused condescension and an endless hunger. He missed that sometimes.

He needed to hear that he wasn't crazy, though. That there wasn't still a part of him twisted with evil. The way Buffy had looked at him had done away with all her reassurances of acceptance in one fell swoop. So, he went to the only person who might understand.

Giles greeted him at the door, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He looked as though he might have already started on a bottle himself. "Spike. Is something wrong?"

He hesitated. "Not really. Can I come in?"

"Of course." The other man stepped aside to allow him entrance, and Spike could see the remains of a glass of brandy on the desk. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble. I hate to drink alone." Spike took the offered glass with a murmured thanks and then savored the first taste. He didn't drink as much as he used to; it was a luxury he could hardly afford, and so he lingered over the flavor.

Giles gave him a knowing look as he settled himself on the couch. "Did Buffy ask you about your history with the Slayers tonight?"

"Yeah." Spike looked rueful. "Didn't go quite as well as she'd hoped, I think." At the other man's expression, he shrugged. "Don't think she wanted to hear what I had to say, an' she didn't much like the way I said it."

"What did you say?"

"She doesn't have a death-wish yet. That's the short version."Spike was quiet for a while. "Is it wrong to remember things we've done that we shouldn't an' think about how good they were?"

Giles considered the question, recalling the conversation he'd had with Buffy when Eyghon had been hunting him. He didn't recall his misspent youth with pleasure, but he could remember the way being possessed had felt. He'd told his Slayer that it was "an extraordinary high."

"I don't believe so," he finally answered. "In some ways it's an acknowledgement of how far we've come to remember how good it was and yet not pursue those activities any longer." Giles gave Spike a long look. "Your remembering frightened her, I suppose."

"Don't know if 'frightened' is the word I'd use," Spike replied. "Think disgusted might better fit the bill. I was all set to leave after that when Joyce stopped me." Concerned for the other man's feelings, he asked, "Did you know—"

Giles raised his glass in explanation. "She told me earlier tonight. I have to be at the store for a while at least tomorrow, but I'm planning on going over later. And Buffy? How is she taking it?"

"'Bout as well as might be expected," Spike replied. "She's worried, of course, but that's her. Anybody would be."

Giles sighed and knocked back his glass. "I'm afraid it won't be much of a birthday for you, Spike. I am sorry about that. Normally, it's Buffy's birthdays that are miserable."

Spike shrugged, dismissing Giles' concerns much as he had Joyce's earlier. "'s better than last year," he pointed out philosophically. "An' it could always get worse."

"I suppose so," Giles agreed. He sighed a little in contentment. Things had been so busy lately that he hadn't had the time he had last year for their friendship. Not that he was neglecting any of his duties, but things were different now, with Spike having his own place and the Magic Box becoming the central meeting location for the Scoobies. The times were rare when they could sit together and have a drink.

"You know," Giles began, entering into Watcher-mode without even thinking about it. "It would be good to hear the accounts of the Slayers you killed. That's information that the Watcher's Council would dearly like to have. It's not something that comes easily."

Spike sighed, resigned to sifting through his past as though on an archaeological dig. Old bones was all it was, things that held little meaning now except for tired old historians. So much of his life seemed to have very little real meaning. Killing the Slayers meant something, on the other hand. "Long as I don't end up some lab rat in an experiment."

"Off the record then, for now," Giles promised. "From the beginning."

Spike looked over at him dubiously. "There's a little more to it than the battle," he warned. "'s about motivations and love too."

"The beginning," Giles insisted. "I want to hear the whole thing."

Spike couldn't help but remember that Buffy hadn't even asked for the whole story. Giles knew that context was everything, however. "Right. Well, you have to know what Angelus an' me were together. It's a bit complicated, but it helps to know."

Giles nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions, ready for the story, ready to get lost in the past. It had always been a reliable escape, and now, when worry pressed down hard, he could use a few moments respite.

~~~~~

Dawn, oddly enough, was wishing she'd gone to school. Joyce had given in almost immediately when her youngest daughter had pleaded for the day off, unable to refuse her anything. In some ways, Joyce felt guilty for being sick. She knew it placed a lot of pressure on both her girls, as well as Spike, and she had a well-honed maternal instinct. She hated having them worry about her.

Joyce was the one who should have been doing the worrying, rather than being worried over.

So Dawn had gotten her wish to stay at the hospital with Buffy, but now she was finding herself bored and unhappy. At school, at least, she would have had other things to think about. All she had to distract her were the dubious qualities of daytime programming and her sister's glum expression. Not that Dawn was feeling all that chipper, but still, you'd think Buffy would make the effort.

"Here." Buffy handed her a soda. "You doing okay?"

She shrugged. "I guess. Is mom going to be alright?"

"I hope so," Buffy said, not wanting to lie or to make promises she couldn't hope to keep. "You sure you want to wait? You could probably go to the Magic Box or hang at the gallery with Spike."

Dawn shook her head stubbornly, in spite of the fact that she'd just been wishing she were elsewhere. "I'll wait until Spike gets here. Maybe then." Frowning, she looked over at her sister. "What's a CAT scan exactly?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied, wishing she better understood what was going on herself. "It's some kind of x-ray I think."

Dawn lifted her eyebrows. "Well, where do they get the CAT from? Did they test it on cats or something?"

"Dawn—" Buffy paused before beginning her lecture, realizing that her sister was probably as worried as she was. She put an arm around the younger girl's shoulders and pulled her close.

There were several more hours of waiting, watching the people pass them, wandering to the lounge to watch ridiculous programming. When Spike finally came in, Dawn gave him a relieved smile and a hard hug.

Spike put his arms around the girl, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "How you doing, Sweet Bit?"

"Okay." Dawn gave him a hesitant smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"I am too," Buffy said quietly.

Spike met her eyes and a little more tension flowed out of him. "Wouldn't be anywhere else." They embraced, Spike's face buried in her hair. "How's she doin'?"

"I don't know. She just came out from the CAT scan. Would you mind staying with Dawn while I go see her?"

"Yeah, sure," Spike replied. He watched her heading off and sat down next to the girl.

Dawn laid her head on Spike's shoulder. "Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"Is mom going to be okay?"

Spike sighed, not wanting to lie to her but wanting to offer comfort all the same. "I hope so, Dawn, but I don't know. We never know 'bout these things."

"What about your mom?" Dawn asked. "What happened to her?"

"She was sick," Spike confessed softly. "An' she wasn't gonna get better."

"Oh." Dawn thought about that for a minute. She wasn't stupid. She'd heard a few stories about Angelus and what he'd done to his family when no one thought she was listening. It wasn't hard to imagine what Spike might have done. "Do you ever wish—" Breaking off, Dawn remembered that Spike was a lot older than he looked and that his mom would have long been dead, no matter what he'd done.

"All the time, Bit," Spike sighed. "You can be as old as dirt, but it doesn't mean you don't love your mum." He glanced up as Buffy came out.

She gave him a wavering smile and pulled him off to one side, speaking quietly. "The doctors said they found some kind of shadow. They're going to do a biopsy, like now. Mom said she wanted to see you beforehand."

Spike nodded, standing. "Right then. Be right back." He wandered into the room where Joyce was waiting in a hospital gown. "Hey, Joyce."

"William." She relished the feel of his strong arms around her in much the same way she'd appreciated her daughter's embrace. In the last year Joyce had come to love Spike like a son. She was consistently impressed by his courage and his heart. Knowing that he would be with both her girls gave her the peace of mind she needed. "I just wanted to wish you happy birthday."

He gave a little laugh. "All I want is for you to be healthy, luv. 'm easy to please."

Joyce smiled at him. "I know I don't have to ask, but you'll look after Dawn, won't you? Buffy needs you too, but Dawn..."

"You know I'll look after both of them," Spike replied. "You're all my girls."

"I'm hardly a girl," Joyce protested.

Spike gave her a look. "Don't forget I was born about a hundred years before you, Joyce." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll see you after."

There was more waiting to be done. Neither Buffy nor Dawn were willing to leave the hospital before the results of the biopsy came back, and Spike wouldn't leave them. He wanted to be there too, also.

Medical technology still amazed him. Sure he'd seen ER and all that. He'd even watched a few of the older medical dramas back when, but having never needed medical services himself, Spike hadn't thought too deeply about what they could accomplish. It hurt to think that his mum would have been easily cured in this day and age. It hurt to think that he was here and she wasn't.

So he amused Dawn by making comments about the people on Jerry Springer and keeping an anxious eye on Buffy. There still seemed to be a bit of distance there, and Spike wondered if it were a gap that could ever be bridged. Could the Slayer ever accept what he had been?

Dawn fell asleep after a while, the adolescent need for sleep overwhelming her defenses. Spike looked over at his Slayer and offered her his hand across the girl's still form. He didn't try to tell her it was going to be okay; he knew by now that she didn't want his reassurances and could barely bring herself to rely on his strength.

It was a fragile strength at best, Spike supposed, when compared to the Slayer's.

"Miss Summers?"

The doctor's appearance had Buffy pulling her hand from Spike's rather abruptly as she stood. "Yes? Is—"

"Your mom is fine," he assured her, moving away from Dawn's sleeping form. Spike, after a moment of hesitation, rose to follow. "They're moving her into recovery now."

"Do we have the results yet?" Buffy asked quickly.

Dr. Isaacs hesitated. "I—why don't we go over here and sit?"

"No!" Buffy's voice was louder than she intended, and she felt Spike's hand on her shoulder, a steadying presence. Without thinking, she leaned back into him. "It's just that I've been sitting all day. I don't really want to sit anymore. Can you—just tell me?"

The doctor looked at the young couple. He hated giving out news like this. "Your mother has a low grade glioma. It's a brain tumor, and it's on the left hemisphere of the cerebrum. In your mother's case, it looks like that's where it started, which means it hasn't spread."

Spike could feel Buffy tremble against him—one tremor before she held herself rigid again. He half-wondered if the strength she was gaining from her intensive training wasn't making her more rigid and thus weaker. She was so sure of her own might she couldn't understand the strength that came from accepting others' help.

"Is there anything we can do?" Spike asked quietly.

Dr. Isaacs shook his head. "Not until we know whether the tumor is operable. I'm afraid that, due to the nature of Joyce's illness, her symptoms may progress rather rapidly."

"Symptoms?" Buffy asked, a touch of alarm in her voice.

"A number of things might present: loss of vision or appetite, loss of muscle control, mood swings, and so forth. Even if we aren't able to go in surgically, your mom still has a real chance, much better than even ten years ago." There was something in the doctor's words that caught both their attention.

"A chance?" Buffy asked, feeling Spike's hands tighten on her shoulders. "What's a chance?"

"Nearly one out of three patients recovers from this condition just fine," Dr. Isaacs assured her confidently. "Now, I have a few questions for you..."

Buffy zoned out, extremely grateful for Spike's competent presence. She could hear him answering all the doctor's questions with ease and knew she didn't have the answers the doctor needed. After a while, Dr. Isaacs disappeared, and the Slayer pulled herself out of her thoughts with new determination.

She wasn't capable of just sitting around and waiting for the doctors to figure out if they could operate on her mom. There had to be another way. She dealt with magic every day, didn't she? Surely there was something she could do—some spell she could use. Anything other than doing nothing.

"We should get Dawn out of here for a bit," Spike said. "The doc seemed to think your mum wouldn't be up for a while now. Might be good to get out of this soddin' place for a few hours."

Buffy nodded. "You go, and take Dawn with you. I don't know—keep her busy."

Spike frowned, giving her a concerned look. "Where are you goin'?"

"I'm going to do something. There has to be a healing spell or something I can use to help Mom." Buffy pulled away from him, looking around for her jacket.

"Buffy, people get sick. I don't think a healin' spell is goin' to help," Spike replied.

She turned to glare at him. "That kind of attitude isn't helping."

"'s not a bloody attitude!" His voice, though low, held the impression of shouting. "'ve been where you are now, luv, an' sometimes there's nothin' you can do but wait. 's the way life is."

"Not my life, Spike," Buffy replied. "Or are you forgetting which one of us is alive through magic?"

"Never," he said, anger coloring his tone. "But, Slayer, 've watched people get sick. 's part of bein' human. Like it or not, there's a real world that you're a part of, an' things like getting sick are natural consequences of life."

Buffy jerked her arm from his grip. "Just take care of Dawn." Her tone made clear that it was all she thought him good for, and Spike pulled back as though he'd been slapped.

Spike watched her go, his jaw tight with anger. Shaking it off, he went to rouse Dawn, a gentle hand brushing back the hair from her face. "Come on, Bit," he said. "What do you say we get out of this place for a while?"

~~~~~

Buffy felt bad about their argument moments after she'd left the hospital, but she was holding onto her anger with both hands. She needed to be angry right now, even if that little voice in the back of her head kept insisting that Spike didn't deserve it. Anger felt better than the fear that was threatening, and so she was going to be mad.

Of course, that meant she was angry and guilty.

It helped that when she arrived at the Magic Box she found something else to distract her. "Wait. How did she manage to get the stuff she needed for a really nasty spell?" Buffy looked around for damage, expecting to see that at least one broken crystal ball.

"Giles sold it to her," Anya finally said after they had all tried to dance around the issue.

The Slayer pushed aside her disappointment over the gang's earlier unanimous discouragement of the healing spell and concentrated on the matter at hand. "Fine. I guess the question now is what is she going to do and how are we going to stop her?"

"We've managed to decipher the symbols on the bloodstone, and it looks as though it will be a cobra." Giles pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on his handkerchief. "We're still working on the rest of it."

Buffy sighed. "Fine. I'll go see what I can do about stopping demon-lady. Spike's got Dawn, so he should be able to keep her out of trouble."

"Buffy, the last time you went up against the demon-chick, you got pretty well beat," Willow pointed out.

The Slayer shrugged. "Last time I wasn't prepared."

"And this time?" Xander asked, giving her a doubtful look.

"This time I will be."

Buffy turned to leave and was stopped by Giles' voice. "Buffy, Joyce—" He stopped, uncertain. While his Slayer was aware that he and Joyce had been seeing one another, Giles wasn't certain that she knew of the depth of their feelings.

"She should be awake later tonight if you want to see her," Buffy said quietly. "I know she'd probably appreciate that."

Giles watched her go and then frowned. "Oh, bloody hell."

"What?" Xander asked as the others watched him in concern.

Giles sighed. "Today's Spike's birthday. It keeps slipping my mind."

Tara and Willow winced in unison. "Looks like Buffy's passed her birthday curse on to him," Willow observed. Tara just looked thoughtful, and made a mental note to visit him later.

~~~~~

"You hungry, Bit?" Spike asked, leading the way into his apartment.

Dawn shook her head. "Not really. Well, maybe a little."

"I'll make us some sandwiches then." He busied himself in the kitchen, trying not to think of his altercation with Buffy. Spike tried to rationalize it, knowing how upset she was about Joyce's illness, how worried she was about Glory and Dawn's safety. It wasn't working.

Spike honestly didn't mind putting up with Buffy's occasional selfishness, or her propensity for leaving him out of things unless she needed him specifically. In all actuality, Spike found most of her quirks—and bad habits—cute. He had, after all, spent over a century with an insane vampire who demanded he cater to her every whim. It was second nature at this point.

But for her to even suggest that he would sit back and let Joyce suffer if there were another way, that was just too much. That she would dismiss him out of hand... Well, Dawn and Joyce were his family, no matter what else might happen.

"Are you and Buffy fighting?" Dawn asked from his couch, where she had spread herself out.

Spike put the finished sandwiches on a couple of plates and handed one to the girl. "Why, pet?"

She shrugged. "It just makes my stomach feel all funny when you guys fight. I mean, you're so good together. It's like—" Dawn broke off, afraid to say it. Spike filled some indefinable function in her life: part older brother, part uncle. He completed her family, at least in her mind. "It's just that it would really suck if something happened."

"Nothing's goin' to happen," he assured her with a smile. "I loved you before I ever loved your sis, yeah?"

"Really?" Dawn stared at him with big eyes. "Spike, what's wrong with mom?"

Buffy hadn't told him not to say anything, so Spike decided to use his best judgment. "Your mum's sick," he said finally. "An' the docs are goin' to do everythin' in their power to make her better."

"What if they can't?"

Spike didn't bother trying to tell her not to think about things like that. Tell a girl like Dawn not to worry her pretty little head about it, and that's just what she would do, thinking things were much worse than they actually were. "You want the truth, Bit?"

Dawn hesitated, realizing that Spike was asking if she wanted to be protected. He was asking her if she wanted to be treated like an adult. Dawn wasn't sure she did, even though she was always protesting that she wasn't a child. "Yeah."

Spike watched as her chin came up bravely. She looked so much like her sister in that moment it made his heart ache. "She's got a brain tumor. The doctors don't know yet if it's operable or not, but if it isn't they can treat it other ways. Got some information on that before we left today."

"And if they can't treat it?" Dawn asked. She wanted him to be able to tell her that she would be taken care of, that he wasn't going anywhere.

Spike didn't want to think about it. He'd already killed his own mother; he had no desire to watch his surrogate mum die. Guilt threatened to swamp him again, but he pushed it back. He had other duties to attend to. Other hearts to try and mend. "I don't know, Sweet Bit, but I'll tell you this much. I'll be dust before I let anythin' happen to you. 'm not goin' anywhere."

Dawn looked at him, as though gauging his sincerity, and then gave him a smile heart-stopping in its sweetness. "I love you, Spike."

"Love you too." He watched as she suddenly rose, heading over to her pack.

"I just remembered I brought your present," Dawn said, glancing back at him over her shoulder as she rummaged around. "Mom has a cake too. I think Giles was supposed to pick it up. Maybe we can still have some later if they let Mom come home tonight."

Spike smiled bemusedly, knowing that Dawn was probably spilling all the secrets behind the surprise party, but it didn't really matter. He'd already spent his birthday in his own way, talking to a priest and confessing to his girlfriend that he still relished some of the memories of being a vampire. Even so, he took the small package with its slightly off-center wrapping showing every ounce of appreciation he felt.

Really, his and Dawn's relationship was refreshingly uncomplicated.

"So you can write," she explained when he'd pulled off the paper and sat staring at his gift. "It's just—I like to journal, you know, and you said you liked to write, so I just thought..." Dawn trailed off, uncertain of his reaction. He looked like he was going to cry.

Spike ran fingers across the soft leather cover of the journal. "Mom gave me the money from doing chores and stuff," Dawn said quietly. "So I paid for it myself."

He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers. "Thanks, luv. It's—it's perfect."

"Really?" Dawn asked, unsure. She wanted to point out that he looked like he was going to cry, but figured that probably wouldn't be the best move.

"Really," Spike said. "Had a journal a bit like this when I was your age, an' older. I always had somethin' to write on with me."

Dawn leaned forward, showing more interest than she had all day. "What were you like when you were my age, Spike?"

He made a face. "I was an utter ponce, pet. You don't want to know."

She thought about some of her interactions with the kids at school and wanted to know more. "But you're cool!"

"There's a hundred years between now an' then, luv." Spike sighed at her eager expression. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this. Besides, maybe he could lose himself for a while in the better memories of his past. "What do you want to know?"

Dawn gave it some serious consideration. Spike was giving her carte blanche with his past, and she wanted to know something good in case she didn't get to ask another question like this. "Tell me about what you were like when you were my age."

Spike sighed. At least he wasn't quite as big of a ponce then as he had been later. He'd yet to make a fool of himself over a woman, anyway. "Right then," he said. He started earlier than Dawn's age, not wanting to remember to the dark time after his sister's death. His thirteenth birthday had been the happiest time he could remember, before his sister's death, his mother's illness, and so he painted a picture of a golden day in his history. One perfect moment that would remain forever unsullied, whatever might have come after.

~~~~~

Buffy had managed to find Glory at the only place in Sunnydale where she was guaranteed to find a cobra: the zoo. Unfortunately, she'd gotten her ass kicked again and the snake demon still managed to rise. Buffy was fairly certain that it wasn't a good thing.

She decided to head back to the hospital to check on her mom (and score some free medical supplies).Buffy wanted to be with her mom when the doctors gave her the news, but she needed to let Giles know that the giant snake was loose. "Giles, it's me," she said, cutting off his standard greeting.

"Buffy? Are you alright?"

"No, I'm really not," she replied, sighing, putting the ice pack on her arm.

"Where are you?"

The concern in his voice came through the line clearly. "I'm at Sunnydale Memorial."

"Are you badly hurt?" Giles demanded. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, I'll be fine," Buffy replied. "It's just—I wanted to let you know that the snake demon is loose. I should really be here when the doctors give mom the news. Have you seen Spike or Dawn?"

"As far as I know they're still out, probably at his apartment," Giles replied. "Do you want me to call him?"

Buffy hesitated. "Yeah, you'd better warn him. Maybe he and Dawn should join you just in case."

"I'll call." Giles listened to the click on the other end of the line and wondered why Buffy wasn't calling Spike herself.

~~~~~

Spike was teaching Dawn the intricacies of Texas Hold 'Em when his cell rang. "Yeah?"

"Spike, Buffy called. Glory's managed to conjure a snake-demon that could be heading your way."

Somehow that news didn't surprise Spike at all. It only made sense that a gigantic demon would be on the loose and after Dawn. It was just par for the course. "Safety in numbers?"

"That's what Buffy and I were thinking," Giles replied. "Do you think you can get Dawn over here?"

"Not a problem, Rupert," he replied. "We'll be right over." Spike hung up the phone and looked over at Dawn. "Get your stuff, Bit. We've got a situation on our hands."

Dawn started shoving her books back in her pack. "Are you going to have to kill something?" she called after Spike. He was rummaging around in his bedroom, and emerged after a few seconds in a worn leather jacket with a big sword in hand.

"If I'm lucky," he replied, a manic gleam in his eyes. "That would make this a good birthday."

Spike didn't actually want to run into a giant snake demon, not when he had Dawn with him. Of course, just because he didn't want to run into a demon, didn't mean it wasn't going to happen. They were still about fifty feet away from the DeSoto when he spotted it coming towards them. "Oh, bloody hell."

Dawn saw the demon, and her eyes widened. Spike watched as the monster flicked its tongue out a few times and seemed to be staring right at Dawn. When it turned around and started heading the other way, Spike knew it was bad news. "Soddin' buggerin'—" He cut off his curses to toss his cell phone and keys at Dawn. "Call Giles! Tell 'im exactly what's happening an' let him know I'm takin' care of it."

"What are you going to do?" Dawn yelled after him.

"Goin' to kill a great bloody snake!"

The running and training he did on a regular basis paid off that night. He lost himself in the movement, the feeling of feet pounding on pavement. When he lost the trail at one point, he stopped, waiting for some sort of direction. If he concentrated, Spike could just catch the musky odor that he'd smelled earlier. After a moment's hesitation, he started chasing the scent.

In spite of the demon's head start, Spike was gaining on it, and he put on another burst of speed. He swung the sword with a battle cry, and the metal bit deeply into scales and flesh.

Not deeply enough, however, because the snake turned on him with a hiss. Spike saw the fangs and started to think he was in over his head.

"Honey, you know you aren't supposed to get started without me."

Spike turned to see the Slayer, who was set on facing the snake with nothing but her bare hands. "Didn't think you'd show, Slayer."

"And miss the chance to kill a great big snake? Are you kidding?" Buffy glanced over at her boyfriend. "Low?"

"If you'll go high, luv."

With twin cries, they attacked, Spike's sword slicing deeply into the belly of the snake. Buffy used the distraction to start punching, and it wasn't long before it stopped moving. Buffy was still punching, and Spike moved to pull her off after a few minutes. "Hey, luv. That's enough."

She didn't respond right away and Spike tugged a little harder, suddenly very tired. "Come on, Buffy-luv. It's dead. We should go see about Dawn."

The Slayer finally got off the snake, gasping a little. "Why did you leave her?"

"Because the giant snake knew what she was, that's why," Spike snapped. "Kind of gave it away when the bloody thing took one look at the Bit and turned tail. Figure it was some sort of bloodhound for mystical Keys."

Buffy sighed, wiping a sleeve over her forehead. "Right. I'm sorry, Spike. I just—"

"How'd you know where I was?" he asked, his tone sober.

She shrugged. "I caught a glimpse of you running when I was headed back towards the Magic Box. I was going to stay until Mom woke up, but I got to thinking and..." Buffy rubbed at her forehead. "I'm really sorry about earlier. You were right, about the spell, it's just—"

"You didn't want to believe it," Spike muttered. "I know, Slayer. I wouldn't want to believe it either, were I you. I love your mum, and you know I'd do anythin' to help."

The tension relieved, she went and put her arms around him. "You do already. You've been making dinner and helping at the gallery and watching Dawn. I honestly don't know what I would do without you. And I know I've been a little bit of a bitch lately—"

"A little bit?" Spike interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I've been exceptionally bitchy. I've just been—"

"Worried," he finished for her. Spike kissed her forehead. "You're not the only one who's worried about Joyce, luv. Giles an' I are concerned too, an' not just for your sake. You forget that you're not the only one in this, Buffy."

"I know," Buffy said quietly, thinking of the other person that was in this as well. "I need to get Dawn and head back to the hospital. Mom will be awake by now, and—"

Spike nodded. "I'll drive you both over, an' wait for you."

"You have an early day tomorrow," Buffy objected. "And you've had a long day today. Giles said he wanted to come over."

Hurt flashed through Spike's eyes. "You're right. I'll drive you over an' you can get a ride home with Rupert then."

Too late Buffy remembered that he was supposed to spend the night. "Spike, I forgot. I promise I'll make it up to you."

He shrugged. "'s nothin', pet. You're a bit sore anyway. Probably better we don't share a bed. Neither of us get much sleep when that happens."

"Spike—"

"We should go." His tone told Buffy that the discussion was over. She'd managed to hurt him again without meaning to, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was a particular talent of hers or if Spike was simply easily bruised.

Buffy somehow thought the blame could be laid at her door.
 

Chapter 12: Fragile
 

“If you want my heart/You have to promise not to tear it apart/’Cause my heart/Has been hurt a lot/And it always seems/Love is not sweet, like in dreams/Something falls through/ But I don’t want that to happen to me and you…” Jewel, “Fragile Heart”
 

Spike pulled in a deep breath and fought the cough that came. He shook his head ruefully when the spasm passed. Just what he needed—a cold. Spike bent his head over the invoices that needed processing and heard the bell ring out front.

With an annoyed grunt, he called out, “Just a minute.”

“It’s just me.” Tara stood in the doorway of the office, staring at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

“’m fine,” Spike replied, not even bothering to hide his irritability.

Tara gave him a doubtful look. “You’re tired. And you don’t look like you’re feeling very good.”

“I said ‘m fine, Glinda,” Spike replied. He wasn’t fine, though. He was tired and he wasn’t feeling good; he wanted to go back to the way things were that summer when Joyce was healthy and he and Buffy were seeing eye to eye.

The blonde witch got a determined look in her eye seldom seen by anyone. “You’re going to take a nap.”

“What?” Spike stared at her. “I can’t! The gallery—”

“Will survive without you,” Tara cut him off. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you really will get sick.” When he still hesitated, she modulated her tone. “Are you sleeping at all, Spike?”

He shrugged. “In fits and starts. ‘s better when—” Spike broke off. It was better when Buffy was with him, but they hadn’t actually slept together for a while now.

She nodded. “Okay, I’m going to get something for that. I’ll come back and take care of the gallery for the rest of the afternoon so you can be well rested for the party tonight.” At the expression on his face, she added, “You don’t want to have to explain to everyone that you’re not feeling well, right?”

Hardly. The last thing Spike wanted was for anyone to fuss over him. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” Tara replied cheerfully. Then, with a gentle touch to his cheek, she murmured, “You took care of me, Spike. Let me take care of you. We’re family now.”

Spike shut his eyes, relishing the gentle touch, letting himself draw in strength. “As you wish, Glinda.”

It felt good not to be the strong one for once.

~~~~~

The tea that Tara gave him was so strong that she would only allow him enough for one cup. “It came from that book you gave me for my birthday,” she’d explained. “And I don’t want you to get hooked on it.”

Spike understood what she meant when the next thing he knew, Tara was shaking him awake around six. She’d told him she would come by and wake him before the party. “Hey,” she said gently. “Time to wake up.”

With bleary eyes, Spike looked over at the clock, and Tara gave him an apologetic smile. “I thought you might want to get cleaned up before we had to leave.”

“Yeah, that’s prob’ly a good idea,” he muttered, trying to shake the fuzz out of his head. Other than the slightly drugged feeling, he did at least felt better rested. “Give me a minute, Glinda.”

Tara gave him a pleading look. “Have you written any more?”

For a moment Spike looked surprised, then gratified that she seemed anxious to read the next installment. “Yeah, luv. I’ll pull it up for you.”

Tara read, keeping an ear out for Spike. She was more than a little concerned at this point, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do for him. Certainly, there was little he would allow her to do.

After a while, Spike emerged from the bathroom, dressed in blue jeans and the blue and cream shirt Tara had convinced him to buy so long before. While Tara was definitely attracted to women, only a blind woman could fail to notice Spike’s physical beauty.

It wasn’t Spike’s physical attributes that had drawn her to him, however.

“You look good,” she said sincerely.

He smiled, his expression almost shy. “Thanks, Glinda.” Spike ran a hand through his two-toned hair. “We’d better get goin’. Did you—”

“It’s still good, Spike,” she said. “In fact, it’s just getting better. I’m amazed you’ve been able to write as much as you have with everything that’s been going on.”

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “Insomnia’s good for somethin’, yeah?”

They arrived at the Summers’ residence together, and Tara immediately went off to find Willow. It wasn’t really a party as such, since it was only the Scoobies, Giles, Joyce and Dawn, but Spike was satisfied with the turn-out.

The only thing Spike might have wished for was the same easy camaraderie that he and the Slayer had had at the end of the summer. He could tell that Buffy was slightly distant, though he wasn’t sure of the reason behind it. Life seemed terribly hard-edged these days, and Spike could only assume that it was normal for stress to elbow out the softer things.

It really was the best birthday that he could remember having though. Even when he had been human for the first time, there had rarely been as large a gathering of friends as with the Scoobies. And, as surrogate parents went, Joyce and Giles filled the bill quite nicely.

There was cake and ice cream and then presents. From Giles, he got the best of the Clash, the Sex Pistols, and the Ramones, a collection of CDs that promised many happy hours ahead. Xander had built bookshelves for his apartment, and they showed some truly quality craftsmanship. Anya gave him money, probably because that was what she would have wanted for herself, and Willow and Tara had gone in together and gotten him some new clothes. Dawn announced—rather loudly—that she’d given Spike his present on his birthday, and then there was only one package from Joyce left.

When he opened the box, he found two nicely framed photos. One showed all three Summers women, laughing at something, though he wasn’t sure at what. It was just your typical family portrait, but Spike didn’t have any pictures of anybody. “Thanks, luv.”

“There’s one more,” Joyce replied gently.

Spike pulled back the tissue paper and stared at what lay beneath. He remembered Joyce taking this one. It had been soon after they’d defeated Adam, and Buffy had been teasing him about going to the beach and getting burnt. Joyce had insisted on snapping a picture, and they’d complied with some good-natured complaining.

Spike could see the way he had his arms around Buffy, the way she was leaning against his chest, smiling for the camera, and he was looking down at her with an expression of adoration on his face. Had things really changed so much?

“This is really great,” Spike finally said when he’d found his voice again. “Thanks. Just—thank you. ‘s perfect.”

There were no more packages, and Spike was very careful not to look at Buffy. He assumed that the others thought that Buffy had already given him her present, much as Dawn had done. If he didn’t look at her, Spike wouldn’t have to wonder if her omission had been deliberate or accidental; either way, it hurt.

The others caught Joyce’s yawns around nine and started drifting out. By ten, Joyce had sent Dawn to bed, and Spike was getting ready to leave. “I’ll walk you home,” Buffy said.

“You don’t have to, luv,” Spike replied. He loved her, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around her right then.

She fixed him with a stern look. “It’s not about ‘have to,’ it’s about want to. Giles already said he’d stay with Mom and Dawn.”

Spike looked past her into the living room where Giles was sitting next to Joyce on the couch. He had a feeling that part of Giles’ reasoning for staying was selfish, desiring to be near Joyce for as long as possible. Mortality seemed very present just now.

“Right then. We’d better get going.”

They said their goodnights and then left, mostly walking in silence, exchanging only the odd phrase. Spike thought it ironic that things had been easier between them when they had been enemies. At least he’d known where he stood.

“I did get you a present,” Buffy suddenly blurted out. “I don’t want you to think I’d forgotten or anything. I just wanted to wait until we were alone.”

Spike wondered if her present included sex, which he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for. Well, actually, he was always in the mood. Spike just wasn’t sure that he wanted the physical in lieu of the emotional and the verbal.

“And it’s not just sex,” Buffy said, reading his mind and the light in his eyes. “There’s more to it than that, though I was thinking that could be in the plan.”

“It’s fine, Buffy,” Spike said, a touch of impatience in his tone. He was exhausted, tired of not being able to find his balance with her anymore.

She glared at him. “It’s not fine. I could see you thinking that I hadn’t gotten you anything.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.”

Spike sighed. “Okay, yeah, I did.”

“Shame on you.”

“I suck.”

“Not anymore you don’t.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Right, then. I promise I will never doubt you again, my love.”

“Better not,” Buffy replied tartly. She tucked her hand into his arm. “It’ll get better, Spike.”

“I know, luv,” he said quietly. “It has to.”

When they got to his apartment, Buffy followed him inside, pulling a small box out of her pocket as she did so. Sitting down on the couch, Buffy waited for him to sit next to her. Spike took the box from her hand, and slowly pulled off the ribbon.

Inside the box was a silver cross, hanging on a silver chain. Spike picked it up, letting the cross hang so that he could see a coin-shaped silver disk hanging next to it. He turned it so that he could clearly see the engraving. It said Forever and underneath it read, SS 8:6-7.

Spike frowned slightly, pulling up the memory from his distant past. “Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.”

“Mom was the one who suggested the verses. I asked her what she thought, and that’s what she came up with.” Buffy paused. “It’s also how I feel. Spike, I’m not good at this. I’m not very good at letting people know how I feel. And with the stuff with Mom and then with Glory on top of it—”

Spike put gentle fingers over her lips. “I know, Buffy.” He smiled at her. “That’s part of lovin’ you, ‘s knowin’ what you’re all about. I love you. Nothing will change that, not even death.”

‘Whose death?’ she wanted to ask, but couldn’t. Mortality seemed all too real these days, and Buffy was beginning to wonder what it was about being a Slayer that made it so appealing. She took the chain from his hand and fastened it around his neck, giving it a final pat. “It looks good on you.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe I can wear one of these again,” he murmured. Their eyes met, and they came together in equal measures of passion and desperation, each of them wanting to assure the other by their presence, that they were real.

Each wanted to reassure themselves that they really were loved, were known.

With hands and mouths and tongues, Buffy and Spike both said what was impossible to put into words. As the desperation dimmed, the Slayer began speaking, murmuring words of praise and comfort. “You’re so strong. I love you. I need you with me. Please don’t give up. You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m not so strong, pet,” Spike replied. “You are—”

“Weak, compared to you,” Buffy insisted. “What you do for me—”

“Is no more than you do for me.”

In joining, they completed the other.

~~~~~

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Giles asked softly. Dawn was already in bed, as the silent house attested, and he had his doubts as to whether or not Buffy would return. Not only was it Spike’s birthday, but there seemed to be some hurt between the two of them that needed to be addressed.

Joyce smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I would be very good company tonight, Rupert. I wish I wasn’t so tired, but—”

“I wasn’t planning on tiring you,” he said softly. “But if you should want me just to stay, I could sleep on the couch.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Then, seeing the disappointed expression on his face, she added, “But you could stay with me if you wanted.”

Giles kissed her gently. “I can’t think of a time I wouldn’t want to be with you.”

A light flush lit Joyce’s cheeks. “Oh. You’ll spoil me if you keep saying things like that.”

“That would be impossible,” he replied, kissing her again.

Joyce discovered she wasn’t nearly as tired as she’d thought.

~~~~~

“Came as soon as I could,” Spike said, slipping into the hospital room. “I’ll be off as soon as I can too.”

Buffy, who had gone to meet him at the door, leaving Dawn sitting on the side of her mom’s bed, wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thanks. Really, for patrolling, and—”

He returned her embrace. “They decide on a time yet?”

“Day after tomorrow,” she whispered. “Mom’s being great about it, but—”

“Shh,” he murmured. “They’re good doctors.”

Buffy appreciated Spike not telling her that everything was going to be fine, and he was right. Joyce did have good doctors. There was every possibility that her mom would pull through this just fine. It didn’t mean the Slayer wasn’t scared to death. Much of her worry stemmed from knowing that there was nothing she could do about it; there was nothing for her to fight. Buffy could wait, and take care of her sister, and keep her mother company, but that was about it.

“I know,” she finally said. “You’ll look after the gang tonight?”

“’Course. Told Giles he should head on over here once he closes up the shop.” There was a grave humor in Spike’s eyes. “Don’t think he feels like he can do enough, or be with your mum enough.”

“I understand the feeling,” Buffy confessed. “I wish there was more I could do.” She laid her head against his chest. “I’m way behind in school too. Willow brought some stuff by, but it feels like I’m running in place.”

Spike kissed her forehead. “You’ll be fine, luv. Both you an’ Dawn can work on it tomorrow, an’ you know I’ll help. Once the surgery is over, you can talk to your professors an’ let them know what’s goin’ on, an’ then you’ll take a few days an’ make it up.”

“But Glory—”

“Will wait, somehow,” Spike replied. “You’re more than just the Slayer, luv. More than just a daughter. ‘s a matter of findin’ a way to balance it all out. You need help jugglin’ all those balls, just ask.”

She gave a little groan. “You’re so good to me. You make me feel guilty.”

“No need for that, Buffy,” he replied. “You know I’d do anythin’ for you.”

She knew. Heaven help her, but she knew. Spike’s devotion was almost scary at times, since it made her feel as though she wasn’t doing enough, even though Buffy knew he didn’t look at it that way. The sense of relief and gratitude heavily outweighed the guilt, however, and she was glad he was there.

Spike was so solid, though she thought he hardly knew it.

“Spike?” Buffy let go reluctantly, watching as he greeted her mom and sister, pulling both of them into a quick hug. He fit, she realized, not for the first time. It was like Spike filled the space that no one had realized was empty until he showed up. People said you didn’t know what you were missing until it was gone. Buffy wondered if it wasn’t equally true that you didn’t know what was gone until you had it.

“I’ll pick you two up after patrol, okay?” Spike asked. “You need me before then, give me a call on the mobile.”

“Will do,” Buffy replied, grabbing a quick hug before he left. “Be careful.”

“Always.”

Buffy wasn’t the only one who needed to work on homework, and so both she and Dawn sat down to try and do some of it. She supposed that it shouldn’t have surprised her that Joyce got agitated after a short while. Her mom had gotten disoriented that afternoon while Willow had been there, and it was only natural that it would happen again.

The Slayer wasn’t certain that it was such a good idea to take Joyce home, although she could certainly understand why her mom might want to go. It wasn’t like she was a big fan of hospitals herself. On the other hand, if Joyce needed a lot of looking after, Buffy was apprehensive about her ability to really pull it off.

Dr. Kriegel didn’t seem fond of the idea either, but Joyce was insistent, and Buffy would do just about anything to make her happy and comfortable. So, she did the only thing she could think of doing: she called Spike.

“You sure that’s a good idea, luv?” he asked. “If something happens…”

“I know,” Buffy said quickly, “but Mom really wants to go home. I just wanted to know if you’d stay. I’d feel better if—”

“I’ll be there soon as I can, Buffy, an’ I’ll stay as long as you need me,” Spike assured her. “’s not like I don’t have some experience with this kind of thing.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. “How’s patrol going?”

“We got a few vamps, nothin’ real excitin’,” Spike said, sounding almost disappointed. “They didn’t even put up much of a fight.”
 

She sighed. “It’ll have to be,” Buffy replied regretfully. “I wish—”

“After,” he said. “After we get your mum taken care of.”

Buffy sighed again. It would have to be after a lot of things—after her mom’s surgery, after Glory, after she caught up with her studies. “Sure. So, you’re coming?”

“On my way, luv.”

Spike hung up the cell phone and looked over at the gang. “Gotta go. Buffy said Joyce wants to go home.”

Giles frowned. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

“No,” Spike said frankly. “But Joyce wants to go home, so that’s where we’re goin’. I’ll stay with Buffy tonight to help out, but over the next couple of days…”

Willow was the first to speak up. “You’ve got it, Spike. We’ll all take shifts.”

“Sure,” Xander said. “No big deal. You can count on us.”

“Anya can watch the Magic Box tomorrow, and I’ll stay with Joyce,” Giles promised.

Tara gave him a smile and a nod, and Anya looked overjoyed to have the shop to herself. “I can watch the Magic Box,” she agreed. “I can contribute too.”

“That would be great,” Spike smiled at the ex-demon, knowing that she really did want to help and didn’t quite know what else she could do. “I’m off. I’ll see you lot later.”

He took off at a jog back towards his apartment where he’d left the Desoto. Spike needed to get some clean clothes for the next day. If Giles was going to stay with Buffy and Joyce, he could go into the gallery. It seemed important that he keep things as normal as possible, and it was up to him to keep the place open while Joyce was sick.

Grabbing what he needed on hangers from the closet, and throwing a few things into an overnight bag, Spike hurried out to his car. He threw everything into the trunk, feeling an inexplicable need to hurry. Buffy had sounded slightly desperate on the phone and she’d said she needed him.

Yeah. She needed him. Even with circumstances as they were, it felt good to have her call on him.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, Dr. Kriegel was finishing up his instructions. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked again. “It’s going to mean some work for you.”

“She’s got help,” Spike said, from behind her, causing Buffy to turn and give him a grateful smile. “’m sure she’ll fill me in.”

The relief on the doctor’s face was obvious as he realized that Buffy wouldn’t be doing this by herself. “Good. There’s every possibility that Joyce’s dementia could get worse over the next couple days. You’ll need to watch her fairly closely.”

“Right,” Spike agreed, turning to the Slayer. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Let’s get Mom and get out of here.”

Spike thought he heard something as he was leaving the hospital, catching a glimpse of a scuttling, gray object. But when he turned his head, there was nothing.

~~~~~

“Shouldn’t we call Buffy?” Xander was not happy to not have anyone with superstrength or specialized fighting skills. “Or Spike?”

“We can’t call Buffy,” Willow said.

Giles nodded, staring at the meteorite that had cracked open, leaving a hollow center. “Spike’s helping Buffy with Joyce tonight. I don’t think we should bother either of them.”

“They need to be with Mrs. Summers right now,” Tara said firmly, surprising the group with her atypical forthrightness. “Both of them.”

Xander looked chagrined. “Right. Absolutely.”

There was a small pause and then Willow said in a little voice, “I really wish we could call Buffy.”

“Well, we can’t,” Giles said. “So we’d better just figure out what crawled out.”

“And slithered away,” Xander muttered, not looking thrilled with the idea.

Giles made a face. “In all fairness, we don’t know that it slithered.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure it frisked about like a fluffy lamb,” Anya said, a definite note of sarcasm in her voice.

Giles gave her a dirty look. Tara lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe we should look around and try to figure out where it went.”

It didn’t take them long before Willow stumbled over the body of the crazy security guard she and Buffy had seen at the hospital earlier that day—the same one who had reacted so strangely to Dawn. “I think it went here.”

They gathered around, staring at the dead body, Giles having checked for the pulse. “Perhaps we should search the woods,” he suggested doubtfully.

All eyes went back to the woods, which were looking very uninviting. “I vote research,” Xander commented.

“I like research,” Anya said hopefully.

“Research is good,” Willow said, as they all started leaving. Then, in a low voice, she said to Giles, “I really don’t want to be the one finding bodies anymore.”

No one noticed the dark figure separating itself from the shadows.

~~~~~

Buffy had never been so grateful for Spike’s presence. As they were leaving, Joyce looked over at her, nearly snarling, “You look just like your father when you cry.”

Spike could immediately see the effect on the Slayer, and he quickly came over to Joyce, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t we get out of here, Joyce? ‘bout time we blew this joint.”

“Can I have a cigarette?” she asked as Spike led her out the door, throwing a wink towards Buffy as he did so.

He looked regretful. “Sorry, don’t smoke anymore.”

Buffy took the medications from the doctor with a pained smile. “Thank you. She’s been—but, you know, Spike is so good…with people. I should—”

“I’ll see you in a couple days,” Dr. Kriegel said with a kind smile.

They made the trip home with no trouble. Joyce seemed a little off, but she wasn’t as noticeably out of it as she had been earlier. The lights inside the house, when they’d been turned on, set her off again though. “Why don’t we go upstairs, Mom?” Buffy suggested gently. “We’ll make sure all the lights are off.”

When she’d gotten Joyce settled, she came back down to find Dawn and Spike watching TV, her sister curled up next to him. Buffy plopped down on his other side and breathed a sigh of relief when he put an arm around her. They watched TV in blissful silence, enjoying the respite offered.

A commotion from the kitchen alerted them to trouble, and all three of them stood to investigate the noise. Buffy and Spike both rushed into action when they saw what was going on: Buffy quickly turning off the stove and Spike grabbing the smoking pan.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Buffy asked.

“I’m cooking breakfast,” Joyce snapped. “And you shouldn’t eat any more. You’re disgustingly fat.” She glanced over at Spike. “And what are you doing here, you monster?”

Buffy took a step backward, knowing her mother didn’t mean what she had said, yet still feeling as though she’d been slapped, knowing that Spike probably had the same expression on his face as she did. “Oh, I’m sorry, guys,” Joyce said immediately. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“’s all right, luv,” Spike said, having put the pan in the sink, and giving her a gentle push towards the door. “Why don’t you go upstairs? You can get settled in, maybe get some rest. You’re just tired.”

It was more than being tired, and they all knew it, but it was a convenient fiction. Buffy shot him a grateful smile as she and Dawn started herding Joyce up the stairs. Spike began to clean up the kitchen, thinking that it was unlikely the girls had eaten, and hearing his own stomach growling. With a frown, he started rummaging around in the fridge, looking for something quick to make.

The house was fairly quiet, except for the muted sounds of the television from the living room and soft noises from upstairs. Spike had just finished pulling out the necessary ingredients for omelets when he heard raised voices and then footsteps thundering down the stairs.

Spike put the eggs down on the countertop and went to see what was wrong, just in time to run into Dawn. “Niblet? What’s the matter?”

The girl said nothing, burying her face in Spike’s chest and holding on for dear life. “Bit?”

Buffy came down the stairs, the look on her face one of distress. “Mom—said some things.”

“She called me a thing,” Dawn muttered, her voice muffled by Spike’s shirt. “She hates me.”

“Shh,” Spike soothed. “Joyce doesn’t hate you, Dawn. She’s just not herself right now.”

“No, it’s not just Mom,” Dawn insisted. “It’s other people too. They keep saying weird things to me. What’s wrong with me?”

Spike and Buffy exchanged a look over Dawn’s head, worried. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” Buffy assured her sister, running a soothing hand over her hair. “It’s just—”

“People’s brains sometimes are a bit wrong, luv, an’ then they see things that aren’t real.” Or that are real, Spike thought. They needed to make certain they kept Dawn away from crazy people, from people like Drusilla who saw things that others were blind to. “’sides, it doesn’t matter. Buffy an’ I love you. An’ your mum loves you too. She’s just sick right now.”

“I hate this,” Dawn said rebelliously. “I mean, I really, really hate this.”

“So do I, Li’l Bit,” he replied. “So do I.”

Dawn hadn’t wanted to be tucked in since she was very small, but now she wanted Spike to sit with her for a while that night. Buffy watched them climb the stairs, then went back into the kitchen, noting the ingredients that Spike had left on the counter. With a small sigh, she started putting them back into the fridge.

She turned the water on at the sink, and then turned on the radio for good measure, pressing a wet hand to her mouth as she finally let the tears fall. Buffy didn’t even hear the sound of footsteps behind her. “Buffy?”

Buffy wiped hastily at wet cheeks with a soapy hand, trying not to be too obvious about it. “Is Dawn okay?”

“I think she will be,” Spike replied quietly. “Right now, it’s you ‘m worried about.”

Forcing a smile, she turned to face him. “I’m fine.”

“Buffy—” At the gentle, chiding tone, she shook her head.

“I can’t, Spike. I can’t—”

And then he was there, with his arms around her, whispering promises into her ear, promises that it was going to be okay, that they would make it through this, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

They were promises that were beyond his ability to fulfill, and yet she loved him for it. Under his tender onslaught, she couldn’t fight the tears that had seemed to threaten all day anymore, and she finally broke down.

By the time she’d finally gotten herself under control, the front of his shirt was soaked. When she looked up, Buffy could see that his own cheeks were wet with tears, and she suddenly didn’t feel so bad. Spike was right; they were in this together. It was better than having to face this alone.

“I was goin’ to make us somethin’ to eat,” he said softly, not wanting to address either of their tears.

She shrugged in reply. “I’m really not that hungry.”

“You’re too thin,” Spike murmured. “You should eat more.”

“So should you,” Buffy replied with a smile. “Like any of us have been getting regular meals lately.”

“’s hard,” he agreed. Then he smiled. It was only a small twist of the lips, but it made him look boyish and young and so startlingly beautiful. “You want to make out?”

“Make out?” Buffy asked, hardly able to believe her ears.

Spike leaned in close, so he could murmur in her ear. “Want to be close to you, to touch you. An’ it’ll take our minds off things.”

Buffy was well aware that she shouldn’t even be thinking about this, but— “Mom…”

“Just makin’ out, promise,” he said. “All clothes will remain on, in case of emergency.”

Suddenly, Buffy thought that it sounded like the best idea she’d heard in weeks. “Okay.”

As it had always seemed to do, the world faded as they touched, reminding one another of their love through tangibles. In fact, they were just getting really into it when a shriek came from upstairs. “Buffy!”

They broke apart, each attuned to the sounds of disaster. “Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, as he followed the Slayer up the stairs. “We were havin’ a soddin’ moment.”

“Later, sweetie,” Buffy said over her shoulder, having every intention of making good on that promise.

The second floor was chaos as Dawn tried to explain what had happened. She was trying to wipe slime off Joyce’s face at the same time, so her explanation wasn’t the clearest. “It was some gray demon-thing, and it tried to get Mom.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look, somehow not surprised at this new development. Why would anything in their lives even remotely resemble normalcy? “Stay in this room,” Buffy ordered them. “Both of you.”

She ducked out, closely followed by Spike, and let out a surprised squeak when something dropped on her back. Spike gave a roar that was worthy of the master vampire he’d been before ripping it off of her. The Slayer whirled, looking around for it, but the demon seemed to have disappeared in the dim house.

“Where did it go?” she demanded.

“Scuttled down the soddin’ stairs,” Spike replied, looking rather freaked out. Buffy was feeling a little chilled herself; the small glimpse she’d gotten of it suggested that it resembled nothing so much as a very big bug.

Buffy didn’t like bugs, as a general rule.

Shaking off the heebie-jeebies, she ran down the stairs, Spike on her heels. It was way too quiet. Buffy looked around, desperate for any indication of where it might be. “Are you sure it’s down here?”

“Think so,” Spike said doubtfully. “Blasted thing blends right in.” There was a slight noise that sent both their heads up as one. “Kitchen?”

“Maybe.”

It turned out to be an accurate guess. The cockroach-demon dropped down on Spike this time, startling a yell out of him. Buffy rushed to grab a kitchen knife, and there was a brief, confused struggle as he tried to shake it off, and the Slayer tried to stab the demon without hurting Spike.

When it finally lay on the floor, dead, they looked up, relieved. Just as Riley burst into the kitchen through the backdoor. “Buffy, the demon—” He stopped. “Is dead.”

Buffy looked up, and in her exhaustion, couldn’t find the strength to be surprised. “Riley. How nice to see you again.” She glanced past him at the four other men in black combat gear. “And you brought friends.”
 

Next