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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 13: New Day
 

"Before I loved you, Love, nothing was my own:/I wavered through the streets, among objects:/nothing mattered or had a name:/the world was made of air, which waited...it all/ belonged to someone else—to no one:/till your beauty and your poverty/filled the autumn plentiful with gifts." Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XXV
 

"So, not to sound rude or anything, Riley, but what are you doing here?" Buffy asked. Spike had excused himself to head upstairs and check on Dawn and Joyce, leaving her with her ex. Not that she blamed Spike exactly, since she was well aware of how uncomfortable he was around Army personnel of any ilk, but she still felt a slight resentment towards the ex-vampire for deserting her like that.

Riley shrugged. He'd sent his men ahead, telling them that he would catch up later, wanting to make certain that the Slayer was well. They might not be together anymore, but he still cared. "The meteorite that landed earlier registered as incoming on our radar about 36 hours ago. When the brass figured out that the trajectory would carry it here, I got selected for the mission since I know the area."

Buffy sighed. "Makes sense. So the big bug was not from around here, huh?"

"Not hardly," he agreed. "Mostly it preys on the mentally disturbed. We tracked it to the hospital, where it killed five people, and then to your house. I was hoping we would arrive before it got a chance to attack."

"It's not that big a deal," she insisted. "Compared to some of the other stuff that's been going on here lately, it was hardly anything to worry about."

Riley frowned. "So you're not doing that great?"

"That would be one way to put it," Buffy admitted, not really wanting to spill her guts to the guy she used to date, and feeling a weird need to do so anyway.

Riley frowned. "And Spike? Is he okay?"

"Spike's fine," Buffy said quickly. "Spike's the one thing that makes sense right now."

"Well, thanks for that, luv," the man in question said, coming back into the room.

She smiled at her boyfriend. "It's the truth. How are Mom and Dawn?"

"Good," Spike replied, leaning next to her on the kitchen island. "Your mum seems fairly lucid right now, an' the Bit's shaken up, but she'll be fine." He looked over at Riley. "Your timing could have been better."

"Sorry about that," Riley replied, not sounding particularly apologetic. "Looks like you two had it under control though."

"We've got everything under control," Spike said, a clear challenge in his tone.

Riley nodded, understanding the challenge for what it was, and not wanting to make a big deal over it. He had long since recovered from the heartbreak of losing the Slayer, and had accepted that he wasn't the right man for her. Riley Finn was a rather practical guy: if it ended, you moved on. He had. "I can see that. Buffy was just telling me that things are kind of crazy around here right now."

"Mom's sick," Buffy said softly. "Brain tumor. She's having surgery day after tomorrow." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "And there's this really nasty chick out to kill me and get her Key back, possibly so she can take over the world. Pretty much business as usual."

Riley gave a half laugh and shook his head. "That's Sunnydale." Then, more seriously, he said, "I'm sorry about your mom, Buffy. That's rough."

"It is," she acknowledged.

Riley frowned as a thought hit him. "How's Dawn doing with this? Your younger sister, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy said slowly, sending a meaningful look at Spike, who had been quiet through this exchange. They had speculated on how far away the false-memories had been implanted. Did it affect only those who were around her at the time of Dawn's arrival, or was it was connected to all the people she'd known? It seemed more likely to be the latter at this point, which answered the question of whether or not people like Angel would know who Dawn was. "She's dealing. Spike's really good with her."

"She's a good kid," Spike commented. "You stickin' around for a while, Finn?"

It was a friendly question, actually, as the ex-vampire realized that Riley wasn't there to try and take over his girl or anything else. Spike was generally pretty nice when he wasn't feeling threatened.

Riley shook his head. "Probably not. There's always a fire or two to be put out, and we're a mobile unit. We don't stay anywhere for very long."

"It's not the Initiative," Buffy said quietly, concerned.

"No, it's not." Riley sighed. "We mostly do what the Slayer does, only with more men and a lot bigger weapons. Try and kill things that would try and kill us. That's pretty much it."

Spike nodded. "That's not a bad mission."

Riley suddenly smiled at him. "We're better than what we were." He hesitated slightly. "I really should go."

"I'll walk you out," Spike offered.

Buffy took the hint. "I'll just go check on Mom, let her know things are good."

Spike led Riley to the front door this time, and they shared a brief, hard handshake. "I'm sorry for what happened," Riley said quietly. "I've thought about it a lot, and it wasn't good."

The smaller man nodded, appreciating the sentiment. "'f it makes you feel any better, I'm not. Wouldn't trade what 've got now for anythin'."

"I'm glad," Riley replied. "Take care of her?"

"I always do."

It was closure, and it felt good.

~~~~~

Somehow it didn't matter that the risk involved in the surgery was small. It seemed huge to both Buffy and Spike. Joyce had sent Dawn out of the room to go get a soda, and she was watching the two of them with cautious eyes. "I needed to talk to you both about something."

Buffy was already perched by her bedside, but Spike came over from his post in the doorway to stand next to his girlfriend. "What's that, Mom?"

"I—I don't know what it was, or how, but when I was—this knowledge just came to me." Joyce looked from one to the other, certain that what Buffy knew, Spike would be aware of as well. "I realized that, that Dawn isn't really mine, is she?"

Buffy looked up at Spike, watching as a sad smile played over his lips. "No, Joyce, she's not," he said gently.

"But she is mine," Joyce insisted. "She's mine in every way that matters, because she feels like my daughter."

"Yeah, she is," Buffy agreed quietly.

The woman nodded. "Then whatever happens, if I don't come out of this, you have to promise me you'll take care of her. You have to promise—"

"It's done," Spike said firmly. "She's mine too, Joyce."

"I promise," Buffy echoed. "We'll both take care of her." She wanted to argue with her mother, to protest that nothing would happen, that she would be fine. Buffy couldn't find the words, and it was only Spike's hand on her shoulder that made her feel anchored, that caused her to feel real in a world that hurt too badly to breathe.

Joyce managed a smile. "I know you will." They shared a brief, desperate hug, and then it was Spike's turn.

"You'll come out of this just fine, mum," he whispered. "You're a fighter." Spike straightened, and then glanced over his shoulder to see Giles standing in the doorway. "Buffy—"

Giles waited until they were alone before coming over to her bedside. "When—"

"A few minutes," she said, reading the numbers on the clock. "Not long."

"Not long enough," he agreed. "I've been arguing with myself for the last two days, trying to decide if I should tell you this before or wait until after. I thought if I sprung this on you now it would feel too much like a goodbye, as if we weren't going to see one another again. And yet, if I don't say it—"

"We don't have that much time to waste."

"No, I don't suppose we do. We're not so young anymore." Giles reached out and touched her cheek with a gentle hand. "I do love you, you know."

Joyce smiled. "I know. I love you." There was a pause, and then they both let out a slightly nervous chuckle. "That wasn't so hard."

"No," Giles agreed.

She smiled. "And we're not that old, either. At least, I'm not on my deathbed."

The fire in her eyes was so reminiscent of the light he'd seen in his Slayer's that Giles realized that much of what made Buffy so successful could be seen in the woman in front of him. He had seen Buffy overcome seemingly unbeatable odds—the Master and the prophecy that the Slayer would be killed came to mind—that it was now obvious to him that Joyce would survive, that she would pull through. "No," he said, breathing a sigh of relief he didn't try to explain. "Summers women are tough."

"Don't you forget it." They shared a gentle kiss, and then they broke reluctantly when one of the doctors cleared his throat behind them. "I'll see you later, Rupert."

"Yes, of course," Giles replied, smoothing down the front of his shirt in a flustered gesture. He felt like a boy who'd been caught stealing a kiss, which was silly. "I will see you soon, my love."

With Giles' term of endearment ringing in her ears, Joyce went to face her fate with a peaceful heart.

~~~~~

The waiting seemed interminable—but then that was the nature of hospital lounges. You waited with friends and loved ones, if you were lucky, and you watched the door for signs of the doctor. You played cards, if anyone remembered to bring a pack, drank coffee that could be compared unfavorably to sludge, and ate candy bars from the vending machine. If you were really lucky, you managed an hour or two of sleep in uncomfortable chairs that left you with a knot in your neck and some time where you weren't constantly thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

Spike had been here before. Oh, it wasn't exactly the same, of course, but when his sister had been ill so long ago, there had been the waiting. Waiting for her to live, waiting for her to die—just waiting to know one way or the other. In those days, you waited at home, but the feelings were the same, the worried expressions were nearly identical.

It had been said that there was nothing new under the sun. Spike was beginning to believe it.

He watched in silence as the others shifted positions, moved around, tried to talk about different things to take their minds off what was going on not fifty yards away. "It's taking forever," Dawn said quietly, and he could hear the fear in her voice.

"I know," Buffy replied. The two of them were separated by Dawn's body. The girl rested her head on Spike's shoulder while Buffy held her sister's hand. The Slayer would have preferred sitting on Spike's other side, gaining comfort from his physical proximity, but Dawn needed both of them. The younger girl needed the maximum amount of emotional and physical support.

Spike gave Dawn's shoulders a little squeeze. "The docs are prob'ly just makin' sure they got every bit of it. That takes time."

It took hours, apparently, as Tara and Willow talked softly and Giles stared off into space, a faraway look in his eyes. Spike couldn't imagine how he might feel if it were Buffy back there, being operated on. More than anyone else in the gang, he'd watched their relationship grow over the past six months or so. If the worst were to happen, and they lost Joyce, Giles would be devastated.

So would he, for that matter. So would all of them. Joyce was beloved by many.

When the surgeon finally came out, a collective stillness seized the group. Spike couldn't read the expression on Dr. Kriegel's face well enough to know what the verdict was. As was appropriate, it was Buffy who asked. "How did it go?"

Dr. Krigel finally cracked a small smile. "We were able to see all the tumor, which means we were able to get all of it. Barring complications in recovery, I think your mother will be alright."

"So she's going to be okay? Completely?" Buffy asked, needing more assurances.

The doctor nodded. "Again, barring any complications. We'll need to watch her carefully, of course, and there's always the possibility that the tumor could return, but—"

The rest of his words were lost amid the general sighs of relief. Tomorrow could take care of itself. Today, Joyce would be fine. That was all that mattered.

Buffy turned and gave Spike a tight hug, before doing the same for Dawn and Giles. Everyone was hugging, touching, shaking hands. The burden of worry was much lighter than it had been before.

Dr. Kriegel narrowly missed having his ribs cracked by the Slayer when she hugged him in gratitude. He assured them that it would be quite some time before Joyce came out of the anesthetic, and encouraged them all to go home and get some rest.

"Maybe you and Anya could take Dawn?" Buffy asked Xander hopefully, pulling him to the side and looking over at her boyfriend. "It would be much appreciated."

Xander smiled. "Yeah, you guys both need some downtime. We'll plan on seeing you tomorrow."

As Buffy filled Dawn in on who she'd be staying with, Spike wandered over to Giles. "Alright there, Rupert?"

"Yes, quite," Giles replied with a shaky smile. "It's good news." He paused. "I think I'm going to stay here though."

Spike frowned, concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course." Giles pulled off his glasses and started to polish the lenses. "I just don't think that Joyce should wake up alone."

Spike nodded, not bothering to refute the statement. Personally, he thought it might have more to do with Giles wanting to reassure himself that Joyce was fine. That she would be fine. If it had been Buffy, Spike would have wanted to stay just to watch her sleep.

"I'll see you later then, mate," Spike said.

~~~~~

"So what do you want to do tonight, Dawnster?" Xander asked. "We could go to the movies. Or, there's always ice cream."

Dawn shrugged, a bit put out at having to stay at Xander and Anya's when what she'd really wanted was to hang out with Spike and Buffy. She'd hoped they would celebrate as a family, not go off and leave her to be babysat. It was yet another example of how unfair her life truly was.

"I don't care," Dawn finally said when she realized Xander was waiting for an answer. "I mean, Buffy made me stay with you guys just so she and Spike could shag."

Xander's eyes widened, and he suddenly wondered if Dawn hadn't been spending a little too much time with Spike. "I'm sure they just needed some time to—talk." He winced, knowing how lame that sounded.

Dawn's highly skeptical expression told him she thought it was lame too. "Yeah, right, Xander." She shrugged. "It's not like I wouldn't want to boink Spike if he was my boyfriend, though."

This was too much information for Xander, who proceeded to choke on the soda he'd been drinking. Anya, on the other hand, gave Dawn an appraising look. "Yes, Spike is quite appealing, isn't he?" she commented. "I'm sure he gives Buffy many pleasant orgasms."

"Okay," Xander announced quickly, pulling out the paper with the movie titles and showings. "Let's go to a movie."

Dawn might have been squicked by Anya's comments if she hadn't been so amused by Xander's bright red face. Grinning wickedly, she thought of half a dozen other ways to freak Xander out, and then realized that she was still supposed to be traumatized.

Traumatized people always got to pick the movie.

She gave Xander her best doe-eyed stare, the one that always worked on Spike. "Could I pick the movie?" Dawn asked, making sure to sound as pathetic as possible without giving the game away.

"Of course, Dawn," Xander said. "You decide."

Dawn looked over the movie offerings and wondered what else her puppy-dog-eyes would get her, and how long she could make it last.

~~~~~

Spike and Buffy were not shagging. Not that it wasn't high on their list of priorities, but Spike had announced his strong desire to go out. "Don't care where," he said. "We could go patrol, but I need—"

"To move," Buffy finished for him. She'd rather hoped that moving consisted of getting horizontal—or vertical, she didn't much care—with her boyfriend, but she supposed it didn't matter. In fact, it might be better to go out and hone their appetites, so to speak. "We could go to the Bronze," she suggested. "Dance, check the place for members of the undead."

"Make out in dark corners," Spike added with a smirk.

"That might be nice," Buffy said blandly. She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. "I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."

"You'd have been fine."

"I don't think so," Buffy said. "Spike—"

"I'm not that special, luv," Spike insisted. "You would have—"

"Probably gone insane." Buffy cut him off. "You've put up with me being bitchy for the last couple weeks, and ignoring you..."

"We've both been busy," Spike replied. "You had your mum, an' Glory, an' I had the gallery to look after. 's part of bein' alive, luv, takin' care of that sort of thing."

"Maybe so," Buffy acknowledged. "But tonight I'm all yours."

~~~~~

Giles had made a brief trip back to his apartment to shower and change, as well as grabbing a few tomes he thought might be helpful in the search for information about Glory. Joyce had already been moved to a semi private room, as she didn't need to be in the ICU. There was another bed in the room, but it was empty, and the room was silent except for the rustle of pages and the scratching of his pen on paper.

It would have been just as easy to read at his apartment, he knew, but Giles had wanted to reassure himself of Joyce's well-being. Every couple pages or so he would look up, watching as her chest rose and fell.

Giles was amazed that he had a chance with this woman, the chance he'd lost with Jenny. He was more amazed that he'd managed to fall in love again, after all his bad luck.

Unable to resist, Giles reached out and folded her hand in his. He'd never been a religious man, nor one who believed in prayer, but he wished now that he was. He wished there was something or someone he could make a deal with to keep this woman safe.

Giles would give his very soul to see her safe.

~~~~~

It was early when Buffy woke, carefully extricating herself from Spike's arms to use the bathroom. The night before had been great, reminding her of all the things they had let go by the wayside when her mom had gotten sick. They had gone to the Bronze and danced, stopping briefly to kill a couple vampires they'd spotted.

Then they had come back to his place and made love, which had been an intense experience. The desire had been growing between them all evening, between the dancing and the fighting, and coming together again had been like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It was desire and relief and joy all at once; every time Buffy thought the sex couldn't get better, another night would come along like the last one and prove her wrong.

Well, not better, but different. With Spike, it was always different, new—beautiful.

She was about to head back into the bedroom when something on the small table caught her eye. It was one of those solid wooden jobs that looked as though it would last the next hundred years, something that Spike had picked up at a garage sale and her mom had helped him to refinish. The memory of watching a shirtless Spike sand down the table while laughing with her mom had her smiling reflectively.

Spike's laptop was sitting with the top closed next to a stack of paper. Curious, Buffy glanced at the top page, which looked like a title page of a book. The title read Drowning in Love, and the author's name was William Giles.

Buffy frowned. Spike hadn't mentioned that he was writing anything, let alone writing a book, and the stack of paper was definitely thick enough to be a book. Feeling slightly guilty for prying, and not a little disturbed that Spike hadn't told her about his project, Buffy set the title page aside and began to read.

She'd gotten about three pages in when Spike's voice interrupted her. "What are you doin'?"

"I'm reading," Buffy replied, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was a mixture of anger, fear and guilt.

"That was private," he said quietly, but fiercely.

Buffy stood. "I'm sorry, Spike. I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to read what you wrote. Of course, I wouldn't know that since I didn't know you were writing to begin with."

He looked away from her, torn. Spike wasn't actually all that angry at her; it was more fear that Buffy would think it stupid, or horrible. It didn't matter that Tara thought it a decent story; he was more vulnerable to Buffy's opinion than anyone's. Spike had shared a great deal about his past with the Slayer, but there were still some things of which she was unaware.

Mostly, she had no idea about how big of a wanker he had actually been.

"You were still readin' it without my permission, Buffy. That was mine."

"Anything else you've kept secret?" Buffy asked, a touch of sarcasm in her tone.

Spike's face flushed with anger. "I haven't kept anythin' from you, Slayer. My whole life is yours, but that was somethin' that was mine alone."

Buffy stared at him. "What's the big deal, Spike? It's not like you don't know everything there is to know about me."

He turned away from her slightly, his fists clenching convulsively. The big deal was that Buffy could very easily crush him without even knowing she was doing it. One hint that she thought it not worth his time, one indication that she thought it sucked, and he would be more deeply wounded than he had been the night he'd been turned. Not that Spike hadn't said things to regret, but this was different. "Forget it, pet. 's nothin'."

"It's not nothing," Buffy contradicted. "If it was nothing, you wouldn't be so upset right now."

Spike turned to go back into the bedroom, his back straight and stiff, but she caught his arm. "Spike, don't walk away from me."

"Just forget it!"

"Why?" she demanded. "Why should I forget it?" The world that seemed so safe just moments before was now tilting. "Spike, talk to me."

He shrugged out from under her hand, and Buffy couldn't help but feel that he was slipping away. She had no idea why. "'s just—" Spike started and stopped. "I didn't know what you'd think of it. Maybe you would think it was—bad."

Gently, Buffy turned him to face her. "Spike, I didn't think what I read was bad. What little I did get to read."

He still wasn't looking her in the eyes. "Thanks, luv."

Buffy had to admit she could be pretty obtuse at times. There had been plenty of occasions in the past where she had completely missed all the signals Spike had sent her. She'd misread the emotion in those blue eyes of his and had said something stupid as a result.

Of course, sometimes she could be fairly astute. "You were worried that I was going to hate it, right?" Buffy asked quietly. "And it's really important to you that I like it."

"'m probably just bein' a git, luv. Doesn't matter."

"It matters." Buffy took his face between her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry I got into it without your permission. Would you let me read it?"

When he still hesitated, Buffy sighed. "Look, if I promise to be very gentle and honest, will you let me read it?"

"Yeah, sure, if you want," Spike replied, going for nonchalant and failing miserably. "It's just—haven't had the best of luck with my writing before."

Buffy smiled gently. "You've been a lot of places since then, sweetheart. You've lived a long time. It would make sense that you just got better."

He finally nodded. "'m just gonna shower, then. 's not quite finished. Told Glinda I'd print a copy for her to edit while I finish it up."

Buffy was somehow not surprised that Tara knew about his writing. It stung, a little, that he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her, but it didn't surprise her. Her Spike was as vulnerable as she was in some areas. "You go do that."

Spike couldn't just sit while Buffy read. He showered, and then stripped the sheets off the bed to do some laundry. He called Xander and asked if they would keep Dawn until lunchtime when they would pick her up to go to the hospital. He fixed a little something for them both to eat for breakfast.

"We should go," he said, interrupting after a while. It was past time for them to leave, and Buffy was only halfway through. "Buffy?"

"Just a sec," she murmured absently. "I'm almost done with this chapter." Another few minutes went by, and Buffy looked up. "Spike, this is really good work." At the look on his face, she insisted, "No, it really is. I don't know anything about publishing, but I love it."

A pleased flush spread across his face. "Thank you, pet."

"This is about us, isn't it?" Buffy asked, having recognized some of the players in his story. "I mean, this is about you and—"

"Loving you," he finished quietly. "Yeah. They say write what you know, and that's what I know."

It was about more than that; it was about a man who loved so well he lost himself. Buffy recognized Spike in every word, and she wondered if his writing didn't give her some glimpse into his heart, knowing the emotions behind his story. He hadn't given her everything, and Buffy was beginning to see why. They both held back small pieces of themselves, just in case. They had both had their hearts smashed to pieces way too many times.

Buffy was still absurdly disappointed, though. She'd thought she knew everything about this man. "Spike, even if it sucked—which it doesn't—I'd still love it, because you wrote it. And I love you."

The tips of his ears turned pink. "I know, Buffy. It's just—you know the night Dru turned me, someone read my—stuff out loud at a party, in front of the girl I loved. It wasn't pleasant."

"That's because she wasn't the Slayer," Buffy said with a smile. "Anybody tells you this isn't good, have them see me, because I will kick their asses."

He laughed and then grinned at her. "Might take you up on that."

"I expect you to," she said. "Come on, we'd better get out of here. Dawn's probably going crazy with the waiting, and we need to see Mom."

~~~~~

After Joyce returned from the hospital, things were somehow easier. Joyce was healing and doing quite well. Both Dawn and Buffy tried to finish out the semester without failing anything, and with Spike's help they both managed. It was hectic and crazy, but it was good too.

Glory was still somewhere in the background, of course, waiting. No one tried to delude themselves that the threat was gone, but the Christmas tree went up without a fuss, and everyone helped to cook Christmas dinner. Giles and Spike spent Christmas Eve and Day at the Summers' residence, and it felt right. Tara, Willow, Anya and Xander came over during the day, and laughter flowed constantly.

They had been granted a reprieve for a time. It was a new day, a new year, and it was good.

Of course, no one had reckoned on trolls, Watcher invasions, or crazy vampires...