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 18: Miracles

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,/or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off./I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,/in secret, between the shadow and the soul...I love you without knowing how, or when or from where./I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;/so I love you because I know no other way/than this: where I does not exist, nor you,/so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,/so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep." ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII
 

That was not the first time Buffy had had that particular dream. She had found that in 48 hours it was possible to dream and to imagine a myriad of possibilities, both good and bad. The Slayer couldn't help but wonder if the dream wasn't more a glimpse at a possible future than her own fears, particularly because the doctors kept murmuring words like "miracle" and "impossible." The first they had used to her face, the second had been in muttered whispers when they thought she wasn't listening.

There had been those first few seconds in Spike's apartment when she had scrambled to find a pulse, and for one brief, impossible moment thought there was none. And there, under her fingers, was a thready beat that frightened her even more for its weakness.

It seemed entirely possible that Spike would die in her arms in the long wait for the ambulance.

The paramedics had arrived and stabilized him, however, and that was when they started exchanging glances they didn't think Buffy caught. She understood all too well, though. Spike should have been dead or turned, and he wasn't.

Of course, the why-question came to mind, but Buffy didn't care to explore it in depth. Gift horse, mouth much?

The thought of having to live without him ran through her mind like a constant mantra. That, and all the things she'd done to Spike, said to him, over the course of their relationship. Regrets that she would carry to her dying day.

There was the objective part of Buffy that knew she could live without Spike. Not well, perhaps, and it wouldn't be fun, but it was doable. The other part of her heart, the part that remembered so well what it had been like to lose Angel, and recognized this love as the deeper, more mature one, knew that losing Spike could kill her.

Or make her more careless with her own life. Which, as the Slayer, was about the same thing.

Buffy remembered asking Spike how he had killed those two Slayers, and his take on what made her different. He had not included himself on the list of people who tied her to life, and yet he was her anchor. Losing him would set her adrift.

It was, in short, a reminder. A reminder that Spike was right, that life was short, that people are lost all too easily, and you can't squander what time you do have.

It was also a reminder that she loved him as much as life.

Buffy hitched her chair just a little closer to Spike's bed and took his hand, trying to rub some warmth back into it. The doctors had been whispering "miracle," but Buffy had seen the looks on their faces as more time passed and he didn't wake.

"Come on, Spike," she whispered. "You've got to wake up for me. You really think I can do this without you? You got this far—"

She might have gone on talking to him until she fell back asleep or he woke up, but a cautious knock on the door interrupted her. "Come in," she called, her hand automatically reaching for the stake she had at her back.

An older man, older than Giles, poked his head in, and then entered. Buffy was a little surprised to see him wearing a clerical collar, and she suddenly wondered if he knew something she didn't know. Did random clergy come to give last rites to just anyone?

"You must be Buffy," the man said, smiling warmly. "I'm Father Michael. I don't know if William told you about me or not."

He was wearing a cross, so he was obviously not a vampire. Buffy shook the hand he offered her. "I don't think so. Did—I mean, do you—"

"I heard about the attack, and I wanted to come see your fiancé," Michael explained, glancing at the ring on her left hand. "I promise, I don't know any more than you do, and probably less."

"Oh, okay," Buffy said, moving slightly away from the bed so that the minister could approach. The man laid a hand on Spike's forehead, as though checking for a temperature.

Conversationally, he said, "You know, I've grown quite fond of William over the past couple months. He has a good heart and a sharp mind." Michael smiled. "But I'm sure you know that by now."

"I'm finding more out every day," Buffy replied. "How—how did you meet?"

"William came into my church and asked me to pray for your mother, I believe it was. We began talking, and have continued our discussions. I find myself fascinated by him, and by his past."

"You know?"

Michael smiled at her startled tone. "It came out. I heard he'd been injured, and I was honestly thankful to hear he was in the hospital, rather than having him come to my door in the middle of the night."

"Yeah," Buffy said softly. "That would be bad."

"Do you mind if I pray for him?" he asked.

She hesitated. "I—if you want. I mean, I don't know that I believe—"

"That's the beauty of praying for someone else," Michael replied, giving her a calm smile. "It does not rely upon the other person's participation."

Buffy finally nodded. "Sure. I mean, it can't hurt, right?" She paused at the door, having no idea what one did while another prayed, and finding it easier to be out of the room. "The doctors keep saying that it's even a miracle he's alive."

Michael smiled. "Then I will choose to believe that William will make a full recovery, as I have never seen half a miracle."

Buffy nodded, and then ducked outside, leaning heavily against the wall. The clock indicated that her mom and Giles would be there in just a few hours to relieve her. She hadn't left since they'd brought Spike in, and while Joyce had urged her to go home and rest for a while, Buffy hadn't wanted to leave him. She had, however, promised that she would allow them to relieve her later in the day.

Father Michael emerged from the room in less time than she'd thought it would take. "I'll be keeping William in my prayers, Buffy."

The only possible reply to that was "Thank you," although she had no idea of its efficacy. Then, she went back in to wait.

~~~~~

Spike woke slowly, becoming aware of a voice speaking to him. For a moment he considered retreating back into darkness, but something in her words caught at him. "Spike? You gonna wake up for me?"

When he finally managed to open his eyes, Buffy's face was hovering at his side, a bit fuzzy. "Hey there. How are you feeling?"

Spike had the sense that it was a loaded question. "Bit thirsty," he managed.

"Oh, right," Buffy's face disappeared and then reappeared in moments, holding a glass with a straw to his mouth. Spike sucked greedily. "Easy," she warned him after he'd consumed half the glass, pulling it away. "Do you remember what happened?"

Spike frowned. He was obviously in the hospital. They had been there enough in the past months with Joyce for him to recognize the décor (or lack thereof) right off. Had he been ill? Perhaps, but he'd taken all his medicine as per the doctor's instructions. No, that didn't feel right. The last thing he remembered was coming back to his apartment. He and Buffy were supposed to go out on patrol together. There had been a knock on the door—

"Dru," he said, finally remembering. "What happened?"

Buffy gave him a serious look. "That's what I was going to ask you," she replied. "I got there, Drusilla was draining you, and I staked her. I was hoping you could fill in the backstory."

Spike hesitated, trying to recall. It was all a bit hazy, really. "Uh, was waiting for you for patrol. Somebody knocked on the door—" Now it was coming back to him, and Spike found himself flushing at his own stupidity. "An' I told 'em to come in. Thought it was you."

Buffy frowned at him. "That was stupid. You nearly got yourself killed."

Spike winced. "'m sorry, pet. I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," Buffy replied sharply. "You're just lucky I got there when I did. From what the doctors said, I should be calling you Miracle-Boy."

"Buffy, I'm sorry." Spike could see the ravages of worry on her face, and he felt a pang of guilt. The Slayer had enough to worry about without him doing something stupid, like accidentally allowing Drusilla into his apartment. He watched as anger warred with relief in her eyes, and she finally allowed relief to win.

"If you ever do something that stupid again, I will kill you myself," Buffy warned him. "I almost lost you."

"I'm sorry, luv," Spike repeated helplessly. He felt like a stupid git. How many times had they warned Dawn about inviting people in without knowing who was at the door? It was an elementary mistake, one he should not have made.

"Oh, God, Spike, I almost lost you," Buffy said, laying her head on his chest.

Spike brought his arm around to embrace her as best he could with the IV line in the back of his hand. "Buffy, luv, it's okay. Made it, didn't I?"

She sat up, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "Yeah. You did. I love you," Buffy said fiercely. "Have I told you enough?"

"Don't mind hearin' it again," Spike replied softly. "I love you, too."

They clung to each other until the nurse came in and medical personnel began to swarm around the now-conscious patient.

Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him.

~~~~~

"Hey, Mom?" Dawn called. "Can I get a soda?"

"Sure, sweetie," Joyce replied. She began digging in her purse for her change wallet, but Giles beat her to the punch, pulling a few quarters out of his pocket.

Dawn gave him a bright smile in thanks and went to the soda machine that had proven so distracting. "Come right to Spike's room, Dawn," Giles warned. "You remember which number?"

The girl rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, I remember. And I'll be careful," she called, knowing that would be the next command. Seriously. It was like everybody thought she was two.

It was a relief, though—knowing that Spike would be okay. When Buffy had called from the hospital to tell them he was awake, she had thought that her mom was going to start crying from sheer joy. Giles had broken out in relieved laughter, and Dawn had finally felt like she could smile.

For a while there, Dawn had wondered if she would ever want to smile again.

Spike was going to be okay, though, and the entire world seemed like a better place suddenly. Like it was somewhere Dawn actually cared to live.

Dawn fumbled one of the quarters, and she bent to pick it up from where she'd dropped it. As she stood up again, she found herself face to face with a tall, thin man in a hospital gown. He was jabbering at her, repeating "I've found it. Thank you. Thank you. I found it. I found it."

She found herself backed right up against the soda machine, the crazy guy continuing to advance on her. "Okay, it's time to go back." Dawn recognized the intern who came to her rescue immediately as Ben, the guy that had been around when her mom had been sick. He gave her a look of surprised recognition. "Dawn, right? What are you doing here?"

Dawn watched as he pulled the patient back, staring in fascination at the tattoo on his forehead. "Uh, Spike got hurt. I was just getting a soda before I went to see him."

"That's your sister's fiance, right?" Ben asked. "Is he okay?"

Dawn nodded quickly, scooting out from under the watchful eyes of the crazy, hoping that he didn't start screaming about the Key in the middle of the hallway. Soda seemed like a very bad idea all of a sudden. "Yeah, he's okay now."

Ben frowned, the repetition finally catching his attention. "I found it. Thank you. I found it." Dawn backed away from the recognition she saw in the intern's eyes.

"I gotta go."

Ben nodded. "Yeah. Look, stick close to your sister, okay?" he called.

"Sure."

Dawn took to her heels, walking quickly down the hall, finding herself really wigged. She nearly ran into Giles and Buffy where they were standing in the hallway, talking. Buffy looked happy. Really happy. Which faded as soon as she caught sight of her little sister.

"Dawn? Are you okay?"

Dawn figured she probably looked as freaked out as she felt. "I'm fine. I just ran into this crazy guy, and—" She stopped, seeing the look on Buffy's face, and feeling like a jerk for ruining Buffy's happy moment.

Buffy could see Dawn deflate, and she quickly reached out to give her sister a hug. "It's not your fault, Dawnie. Was anyone else there?"

"Ben, the intern," Dawn said. "I think it's okay. I mean, I don't think anybody knows. The crazy guy just kept saying, 'I found it' over and over."

Buffy didn't feel reassured. "Did you notice anything else, Dawn?" Giles asked. "Did anything stand out to you?" The Watcher was thinking of possible responses they might make, clues they might get to Glory.

"He had a tattoo on his forehead," Dawn said helpfully.

The information was helpful, but not comforting. "He has to be one of those knight-guys, Giles," Buffy said. "What if they find out?"

"If he's here in the hospital, he can hardly pass along that information to anyone," Giles replied. "Still, I think it best we get Dawn home."

Dawn looked from one to the other. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Buffy took one look at her sister's face and knew that explanation would never work. "Fine, the guy that saw you belongs to some organization that isn't real happy about the Key. It doesn't matter because he's crazy, and no one is going to find out what he knows." She sighed. "Still, I think it's a good idea if we get you home. There's no sense in you hanging around here where someone else might recognize how special you are."

The last comment was said with a patented big-sister smile that indicated "special" was not something you should aspire to. And yet, Dawn couldn't take offense, since Buffy was hugging her in the next minute. "I needed to get some sleep anyway."

"Can I still see him?" Dawn asked.

"Sure." Buffy glanced over at Giles. "Do you mind giving us a ride home?"

Her Watcher shook his head. "Not at all. I'm sure Joyce doesn't mind staying with Spike."

Dawn took that as her cue to go in to see Spike. He was sleeping, but there weren't a lot of machines attached. Besides being in a hospital bed—and looking a lot paler than normal—he looked like his usual self. She heard Buffy call her mom from the doorway, and Dawn sidled closer to the bed, wondering if she could touch him.

She found that she needed Spike's reassurance—both that he was okay, and that he would take care of her.

As she took his hand, Spike's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her. "Hey, Bit. What are you doin' here?"

"I came to see you," she replied. Now Buffy was calling her from the doorway. "Just a minute," Dawn called over her shoulder, turning back to Spike. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"Right as rain in no time, luv," Spike promised her, sensing that Dawn was scared, and not for him. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Dawn replied. Buffy was calling her more insistently now, and she bent to give him a peck on the cheek. "I gotta go."

Spike watched her dash out of the room, and he rummaged for the controls to the bed. The doctor had been pleased at his progress, but they still wanted to keep him overnight for more observation. The worry in Dawn's voice told him that he didn't want to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary, and leaving suddenly seemed a necessity.

"What do you think you're doing?" Joyce asked as she came back into the room.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "'m leavin'. Something's up."

"Something that you really won't be able to anything about," Joyce replied, settling in next to his bedside. "Buffy told me the doctors wanted to keep you another night." Spike regarded the IV in his hand, thinking about pulling it out. "Don't even think about it," Joyce warned him.

"I'm not stayin' here," Spike said adamantly. With his touseled hair and pale skin, he didn't look very imposing, but there was a glint in his eyes that told Joyce it was fruitless to argue.

Joyce sighed. "We'll talk to the doctor. If he agrees, we'll get Rupert to come back and pick us up."

Somehow it didn't surprise her when Spike was released, although he ended up going home with her. His pleased expression seemed to indicate that's what he'd been after all along.

~~~~~

Amid the doctor's parting instructions had been a firm injunction against strenuous activity and the order to drink plenty of fluids. Even if the doctors weren't entirely happy to see him go, Spike was feeling pretty good. A little light-headed maybe, and his neck stung if he moved too quickly, but he felt good.

In fact, Spike had the feeling that the doctors didn't want to see him go just because they didn't like their little miracle walking away. They wanted to know what had kept him alive, what made him different.

Spike didn't particularly care; he was just happy to be breathing.

Joyce sent him upstairs as soon as they got back to the Summers' residence, and Spike curled up next to Buffy on her bed. She squirmed once, moaning a little in her sleep, but she soon stilled and lay quiet next to him.

Though he hadn't thought himself tired, not after sleeping for two days, Spike quickly drifted off.

When he woke again, they had shifted positions so that Buffy's head was on his shoulder, her arm thrown across his waist. "Hey."

"Hey there," he greeted her, letting out a contented sigh as she cuddled up next to him. "Missed you."

"Missed you more," Buffy replied. "I kept having this dream while I waited for you to wake up, you know." Spike was quiet, waiting for her to continue. "It was like the Slayer-dream I had before Drusilla showed up. You had gotten turned, and then you dusted yourself because you thought I didn't love you anymore."

Spike's arms tightened around her. "'m so sorry, luv," he murmured. "I never wanted to worry you like that. You've got enough on your plate—"

"That's not the scary part of the dream, actually," Buffy said, as though he hadn't said anything. "The scary thing was that you loved me even as a vampire, and I didn't believe it until it was too late."

Spike let out a breath. "Wouldn't have blamed you, Buffy. Not with Peaches, an' all. But you're right. I would love you even if I were dead."

"I get that now."

They lay silently for a while, until Spike said tentatively, "You killed Dru?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

He swallowed. From Buffy's tone, Spike sensed that she really was. That in spite of everything she had some understanding of what it meant to him that Drusilla was dead. The crazy vampiress had, after all, been his dark princess for over a hundred years. "'s okay. Last tie, I s'pose."

"What about Angel?"

"Angel doesn't count," Spike replied, though there was humor in his tone.

Buffy smacked him gently on the chest. "Be nice." She sat up suddenly. "Oh! I have something for you. I almost forgot." She sprung up from the bed, and Spike missed her presence immediately. "Here you go."

He recognized the sheet of paper immediately, even though he'd forgotten its existence in the midst of all the trauma. "Did you read it?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "I'm really sorry, Spike. I found it while the paramedics were loading you up, and I just grabbed it without even thinking. And then, later, I glanced at it."

Spike pushed himself into a sitting position, taking the paper from her with a shaky hand. "Then you know what it says."

"And I just want you to know that no matter what, I love you, and I think it's beautiful."

Spike thought he'd prepared himself for disappointment, but he had to choke back the lump in his throat. It was fine—it didn't matter if he'd gotten a rejection notice. After all, he'd just nearly been turned, and he was alive, Buffy had agreed to marry him—it really didn't matter.

He unfolded the sheet and read silently, casting a betrayed look at the Slayer once he'd gotten past the first sentence. "You made me think—"

Buffy was grinning at him. "Fooled you. You should have seen your face, Spike."

"You—" Spike was staring at the words, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. There, in plain English, was the notice that his manuscript had been accepted for publication, and wouldn't he please have his agent call to set up a meeting?

"I'm sorry, Spike," Buffy said, realizing how freaked he'd become. "I just—you really should have seen your face."

"They're takin' it," he whispered.

"Well, they should," Buffy said with a wide smile. "It's good."

"They're goin' to pay me for it."

"And again with the duh."

"Buffy, I—"

She wasn't certain that it was the best technique for getting Spike's brain jump-started, but she met his lips with hers anyway. Spike getting published seemed like something worthy of being celebrated with a kiss. When Buffy finally pulled back, they were both breathless, and Spike suddenly let out a whoop of joy.

They both discovered that Spike was perfectly capable of strenuous exercise, nevermind the doctor's orders.

~~~~~

Joyce heard the commotion upstairs, although she was unperturbed. They sounded happy enough, and after the stress of the past few days, she wasn't going to complain about a little noise—even if she had a very good idea about what was causing it.

Dawn dashed into the kitchen moments later, frowning. "Mom! Buffy and Spike—"

"Why don't you try this sauce, sweetie?" Joyce asked complacently, holding out a spoon.

Dawn looked outraged. "They're going to scar me for life!"

"I doubt it," Joyce replied. "Besides, if I know Spike, he'll be down in about fifteen minutes once he smells dinner. Works like a charm every time."

"Less than that," Spike said from the doorway. "Sorry if we disturbed you, Bit."

Buffy bit her tongue, wanting to point out that it was Dawn who had disturbed them, by banging on the door. "Spike has news."

"So I gathered," Joyce said, watching in amusement as Spike blushed slightly. She took the letter he held out and broke into a bright smile. "William! This is wonderful! This definitely calls for celebration."

It was a bit of luck that Joyce had decided to do spaghetti, which was easily altered in order to feed a crowd. Buffy called the rest of the gang, letting them know that her mom was making dinner and that Spike was feeling up to visitors after all. When Giles arrived with the champagne Joyce had sent him off for, the party was complete.

The sense of relief was nearly tangible.

~~~~~

"I knew you'd get an offer," Tara said later, resting her hand on Spike's arm. Willow and Buffy were talking animatedly, and Anya was obviously trying to convince Xander that it was past time for her nightly orgasm. Dawn sat next to Spike on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. The girl could hardly be persuaded to leave his side.

"'s nice to know you have faith in me, ducks, but I wasn't nearly so sure." Spike chuckled, the grin he'd been sporting all evening not dimming one whit. "A bit unbelievable, innit? Me, a published author."

"You gonna autograph a copy for me, Spike?" Dawn asked, looking up at him. "It would be really cool to show everybody at school."

Spike gave her shoulders a squeeze. "For you? Anything. Still not goin' to quit my day job, though. One book does not an author make."

"I thought you said they wanted to negotiate for another manuscript," Tara replied, smiling at his blush and stammer. "And that you'd already started one."

Spike had, but that wasn't something he'd shared with anyone, even Tara. "How—"

"Woman's intuition," Tara replied mysteriously. "I know how much you love writing, Spike. It only makes sense that you'd have started something else right away."

Dawn tugged on his arm. "Can I read your book, Spike? You let Tara and Buffy read it."

Spike frowned, trying to remember if there was anything in there unsuitable for young readers. "Uh..."

"I'm sure Dawn's mature enough," Tara said.

"Of course I am!" Dawn insisted. "I'm mature."

"Which is why you ruined my favorite shirt by spilling ketchup on it," Buffy said, drifting over close enough to hear their conversation.

Dawn's eyes widened. "I so did not."

"The lavendar one I haven't worn for two weeks?"

Dawn hid her face in Spike's shoulder. "Protect me?"

"You can't hide behind Spike forever," Buffy warned her. "And you have to sleep some time."

Spike pushed Dawn toward her sister, saying, "Better to face up to your misdeeds, Bit." Buffy immediately went on the offensive, tickling Dawn unmercifully. Spike and Tara watched with big grins on their faces, and Spike caught sight of Giles and Joyce standing in the doorway.

Spike's smile turned speculative, watching Giles place a gentle kiss on Joyce's neck while no one was looking—or so they thought. Wouldn't be long now before the two of them started sneaking around like a couple of teenagers. Which would be quite entertaining.

The grin that graced Spike's face then could only be described as evil.

~~~~~

When the next big excitement hit, Buffy and Spike weren't around to see it. Spike had made the sly suggestion that Giles take Joyce out for a night on the town, since she was back to her old self. He'd also deliberately mentioned that they needn't return that night.

Spike's teasing had been rewarded by pained looks from both of them, but neither had tried to chastise him for it. After all, it hadn't been so long ago that they'd thought they might lose him, and Spike was taking full advantage of their indulgence.

Of course, with Joyce and Giles out, that left he and Buffy to stay with Dawn while the others went to the Spring Break party at the college. Both girls had school work to catch up on, however, and Spike alternated between answering Dawn's questions and writing. It was a cozy, normal evening. Just what the doctor had ordered.

Once Dawn had gone up to bed, Spike and Buffy moved the party out to the living room couch, where they began another kind of normal activity. Things were rapidly getting more heated—buttons had been lost—when someone knocked on the front door.

"Ignore them and they'll go away," Buffy muttered between kisses. She could tell that Spike was finally back to full form and had no desire for the smoochies to end.

"What if it's an emergency?" Spike asked, gasping as one of Buffy's hands moved below the belt.

"Don't care," was her rebellious reply. "As long as the world's not ending, I have the night off."

"Buffy!" Xander's voice came through the door. "Buffy! There's something really weird going on."

Buffy and Spike tried to get up and untangle themselves at the same time, landing them both on the floor in an ungainly heap. "Bugger," Spike hissed. "Just a minute!

"You okay?" Buffy asked, extricating herself from the tangle of limbs and reaching down to give him a hand up.

Spike huffed. "Fine. Bloody hell."

Given the fact that this was the first time they'd been able to have a chance at intimacy since before Drusilla's arrival in town, both the Slayer and her fiancé could be forgiven for being irritated at the interruption. "What?" Buffy demanded, seeing Xander, Anya, Tara and Willow lined up on her front porch.

The four of them took in Buffy and Spike's disheveled states and had the grace to blush. "Sorry, Buffy," Xander said sheepishly. "For, uh, you know—"

"We're sorry we interrupted your orgasms, but we have a problem," Anya said bluntly. "A robot problem."

Spike's eyebrows went straight up. "A robot?"

"Like the one Sophomore year of high school?" Buffy asked.

Willow flushed. "No, a little different, actually. It—she was female. She kept saying she was looking for Warren, her boyfriend."

Buffy sighed. "Okay, as far as threats go, I'm not seeing this one as serious. Certainly not serious to—interrupt."

"Well, she did toss a guy through a window," Tara said apologetically.

"Even if she said she was sorry," Xander added.

Spike gave an exasperated little laugh. "Well, it's a sight better than rampagin' vampires, I s'pose."

Buffy leaned back against him. "Tons better," she agreed. "I don't think there's really anything we can do tonight."

"I can start looking into Warren's tomorrow," Willow volunteered.

"That would be great," Buffy replied, obviously waiting for the others to leave. "So we'll see you in the morning."

Anya tugged on Xander's arm. "We should let them get back to having sex. We haven't had any tonight."

"Thanks for sharing, An," Xander said with a pained smile, giving Buffy and Spike a little wave. "We'll get out of your hair."

"Much appreciated," Spike said wryly.

When they had all trooped out, Buffy hid her face in Spike's shoulder. "Now what?"

"We go right back to what we were doing."

"Mom's going to be home any minute!" Buffy objected.

Spike's face said it all. "Wouldn't expect Joyce till morning, luv. Chances are she'll try to sneak in early an' pretend she got home late."

"Then we've got plenty of time."

There wasn't much talking after that.

~~~~~

"I still think you should be resting today," Joyce said, glancing over at Spike as she unlocked the gallery. "If you're not feeling—"

"'m feelin' fine," Spike insisted. "An' if I stay at home for one more day, I'm goin' to go stir-crazy."

Joyce laughed. "Fine. By the way, thanks for watching Dawn last night."

"Did you an' Giles have fun, luv?" Spike asked with a sly grin.

Joyce returned his look with a coy one of his own. "I could ask you the same thing."

Spike laughed. "You could, but a gentleman doesn't kiss an' tell."

"Neither does a lady," Joyce replied. "And besides, it's not nearly as fun to tease you since you don't seem to be disturbed."

"What's disturbin'?" Spike asked with a charming smile. "I just like to see the two of you happy."

Joyce's smile turned thoughtful. "I am, Spike. I don't think I've been this happy since—well, since long before the divorce. It's new."

"Sometimes new is good," he acknowledged.

They worked together in contented silence for the next few hours, Joyce working on the displays up front and Spike taking care of the books in the back. "I wonder if Buffy got that robot taken care of," she commented after a while.

"Dunno," Spike replied. "Figure she'll call an' let me know when she figures it all out."

"Didn't you contact an agent the other day?" Joyce asked.

Spike came out of the office to lean against the doorframe casually. "Yeah, an' he says he wants to meet soon, in L.A. Told him it would be a couple weeks before I could get free. Did say if the book does well, I'll need to think about publicity an' such."

"And what do you think about publicity?"

"Not much," Spike said. "Don't like anythin' that takes me away from Buffy."

"I think you would probably survive," Joyce replied, and then put a hand to her forehead.

Spike stepped forward, concerned. "You alright, luv?"

"I'm fine—it's just—"

Spike caught her as she tripped. "I'm takin' you to the hospital."

"I don't think that's necessary," she protested.

Spike smiled grimly. "I think I'll let the doctor tell me that. You'll recall what happened last time you didn't listen to me 'bout goin' in?"

Joyce sighed, sick to death of hospitals. "If you insist."

"I think this time I have to."

It's the little decisions that can save someone's life—and the little moments in which lives are lost.
 
 

Chapter 19: A Simple Twist of Fate
 

"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond/any experience, your eyes have their silence:/in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,/or which i cannot touch because they are too near/your slightest look will easily unclose me/though i have closed myself as fingers,/you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens/(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose/or if your wish be to close me,i and/my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,/as when the heart of this flower imagines/the snow carefully everywhere descending..." ~e.e. cummings, "somewhere i have never travelled"
 

Buffy felt as though she was always rushing into hospitals these days. As the Slayer, it was to be expected in some ways, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Spike caught her as she came through the doors, and the sense of free-falling she'd had since the call stopped.

Despite his vulnerability, Spike was the one who made her feel safe.

"Mom—"

"Docs think she's goin' to be okay," Spike reassured her. "Just got done talkin' to one of the surgeons. It was an aneurysm, possible side effect of the surgery, he said. We caught it early enough so that there wasn't much damage done, maybe not any."

Buffy drew in a deep breath, the first in what seemed like forever. "You mean you caught it in time. God, Spike, if you hadn't gone in today—"

"Got lucky, I s'pose," Spike said soothingly.

"How long is our luck going to hold out?" Buffy asked softly. "First you, and now Mom—"

"We're both fine." Spike's tone was fierce. "An' we're goin' to continue to be fine. 's all gonna work out, luv."

Buffy wasn't so sure, but she didn't want to argue, not about this, not when Spike seemed to be right. He was okay, her Mom would be fine, things would somehow work out with Glory and Dawn. Speaking of Dawn—"Someone's going to have to pick Dawn up from school."

"I'll go," Spike said quietly. "Rupert should be here any minute now."

As though his words had summoned the Watcher, Giles came through the doors. "How is she?"

"Doctors caught it in time," Spike said briefly, watching as the other man's shoulders slumped in relief. Continuing, he added, "They're still in there, but it shouldn't be too much longer."

Spike gave Buffy one more quick kiss, and then pulled away. "Better get Dawn now. You want me to bring her back here?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, I don't think it's safe. If you could—I don't know."

"We'll go back to the house," Spike said. "Give us a call when you know somethin' more, yeah?"

After he'd left, Buffy turned to give Giles a hug. They said nothing for a long time, and then Buffy whispered, "If anything had happened to Spike—"

"We must be thankful that nothing did happen," Giles said, cutting her off, knowing what she was going to say. "You are right. If something had happened—well, it doesn't do us any good to talk about what-ifs."

"No," Buffy agreed, thinking about ripple effects. How many more lives would Spike end up saving, just because he hadn't been killed himself?

~~~~~

Spike sat in the school parking lot. He still had a few minutes before Dawn would be done with classes, time enough to compose himself. It had been too close. He'd assured Buffy that everything was alright, but his roiling stomach said otherwise.

The doctor had been quite frank with him, perhaps because he'd thought Spike was objective enough to handle the information. If Spike had done anything other than drive her straight to the hospital, she wouldn't have survived. Given the aneurysm's location, if it had burst, Joyce would have died instantly.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Spike willed his hands to stop shaking. He supposed it was better to lose it now, after the emergency was over and before he had to see Dawn. It was better than freezing when decisions had to be made, as he might have done once upon a time.

Spike took several deep breaths, reminding himself that he needed to be strong for Dawn. It wouldn't do for the girl to see him all shaky.

By the time he got through the doors of the building, he was back to looking like his old in-control self. "Can I help you?"

Spike paused in front of the two ladies standing outside the school office, chatting. Both were wearing smart business suits, and both were looking him over appreciatively. "I'm lookin' for Dawn Summers." At their expressions, Spike hastened to clarify. "I'm William Giles, her sister's fiancé. Something's come up with her mum."

"I see." The first lady smiled. She had dark skin and a pleasant smile. "I'm Alicia Stevens. This is Rhoda Andrews, the vice principal of the high school."

"Pleasure to meet both of you," Spike replied shaking hands.

Ms. Stevens leaned in a little closer. "Is Dawn's mother alright? If we need to pull her out of class—"

Spike shook his head. "It's a bit of an emergency, but it looks as though it'll turn out. 's been a tough year, though."

"Yes, I can see that," Ms. Stevens replied. "Quite frankly, I'm amazed Dawn's doing as well as she is. Many times when our students have difficulty at home, it shows up in their work. From what I understand, she has you to thank for that."

Spike's eyes went wide. "Me?"

Both women smiled, and Ms. Andrews nodded. "Principal Drake, at the high school, and I have both talked to Father Michael at St. Anthony's. He's recommended you quite highly for the position as English teacher."

Ms. Stevens smiled. "We've had to talk to Dawn about her frequent absences, and she's spoken to the school counselor as well. There was a misunderstanding about one of her English papers earlier this year. It was so well done, you see, we thought she might have cheated. Your name came up. Your talent for drawing out Dawn's natural ability is really quite remarkable."

Spike was a bright red at this point. "Yeah, well, hope Dawn didn't get in too much trouble. Never meant—"

"Oh, no!" Ms. Stevens hastened to assure him. "Dawn explained, and her quality of work, especially in her writing, has gone up quite a bit this year. It wasn't just the one essay, that much has been apparent."

"In short," Ms. Andrews added, "we would like you to consider the job as the high school English teacher. We often have difficulty attracting good teachers to Sunnydale, and so to have someone capable already in residence would be ideal."

The upshot of the conversation was that Spike ended up giving the vice principal of the high school his cell phone number so they could arrange an interview. Ms. Stevens also managed to rope him into at least thinking about giving after school help to the junior high students on their writing assignments. While he wasn't quite sure how it had happened, Spike found himself flattered by the women's obvious respect. Apparently, he was better known than he had imagined.

"Spike?" Dawn saw him as she came down the hallway. "What are you doing here? Mom was going to—Is she—"

"She's fine, Bit," Spike quickly assured her. "Had to go in to hospital for a quick repair job, but she'll be right as rain in no time." He nodded to the two women, and then pulled Dawn away with him, keeping one arm around her shoulders. "Didn't want to make a fuss, luv, but I wanted someone to be here when you got out of class."

Dawn wasn't quite ready to believe him; there had been too many close calls lately. "Spike, if it's bad, I want to know."

"When we get out to the car," he said quietly. "Joyce is goin' to be fine, but it'll be more private in the car."

The girl would have trusted Spike with her life. She trusted that he was telling her the truth now. When they had reached the old DeSoto, and the heavy doors had been shut behind them, Spike turned to face her. "Your mum started feelin' bad at the gallery today, an' I took her to the hospital. Soon's we got there, they rushed her in for scans, and then they rushed her in for surgery. Doc was tellin' me before I left that she'd most likely be fine."

"'Most likely?'" Dawn repeated.

"There might be some side effects, just like there would be if your mum had a stroke, but they were thinkin' they caught it before damage was done."

Spike watched as Dawn tried to assimilate the information. It was a lot, he knew. Not that long ago, they'd been worried for Joyce, then he'd almost bought it. Close. Too close.

As the reality of it all began to sink in, tears started running down Dawn's cheeks. She couldn't have said whether it was in relief or fear or at the unfairness of it all. Spike's strong arms came around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a very long time.

~~~~~

"Spike? Are you alright?" Tara came into the back office of the gallery. It was nearly closing time, but she'd had the feeling she would find him here still. Joyce might be on the mend, and faster than the doctors had expected, but it would be at least another couple of weeks before the older woman would be ready to return to work.

Until then, Spike was the one taking care of the gallery again, looking after the Summers ladies, and appearing exhausted again. "'m fine, luv," he assured her, turning to meet the witch's eyes. "Really."

"I don't need to send you home again, do I?" she asked, referring to the night before his birthday party.

Spike shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "No, and it's 'bout time to close up anyway. Should head back to the house an' get dinner started. Niblet'll be starvin'."

"Giles is taking care of it," she said gently. "I'm not sure what he's making, but he's staying with Dawn and Joyce tonight. He also told Buffy she has the night off. You're both worn out."

Spike started to shake his head and then gave a funny little laugh. "One thing after another, yeah? Least this one turned out for the best, an' Joyce'll be fine, but I wonder just how long our luck's gonna run for. With Glory—"

"We'll take care of Glory," Tara replied. "You guys took care of Adam, didn't you?"

Spike sighed. "We did, ducks, but he was a jumped-up monster. Not much different than your average demon in the end."

"But you had to find his weakness," Tara argued persuasively. "And you did. You'll do the same with Glory, and Joyce will be fine."

Spike gave her a measuring look. "You're good for a bloke, you know that, Glinda? Always lookin' at the positive."

"I wouldn't have been able to do that without you," she said.

Spike watched her, thinking that he would have liked to have known this girl while he was still human the first time. He had the feeling that she would have seen William for all his worth. "Wish I'd known you once upon a time, luv," Spike thought out loud. "I think I'd have been a happier man."

Tara flushed slightly. "Well, I'm glad I know you now. And the others are waiting for us. I told them I would get you and we would all go to the Bronze." Her flush deepened, but she gave him a sly smile. "And then you can take Buffy back to your place."

"Girl after my own heart," Spike said with an answering smirk. He stood, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

"Of course."

~~~~~

The gathering at the Bronze was more subdued than was typical. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the club itself was rather empty for a Tuesday evening. More than likely, however, it had to do with Joyce's recent near-miss, and the ever-present threat of Glory.

"Whatever happened to that robot, pet?" Spike asked. They were all seated, letting the tension of the past weeks slide away under the influence of alcoholic beverages and the company of friends.

"Robot?" Buffy asked blankly, and then recognition hit. "Oh, you mean April."

"It had a name?" Spike asked.

Xander broke in. "Oh, it was definitely a girl-robot." At Anya's glare, he flushed. "Well, it was."

Spike smirked, amused, and then turned to look at the Slayer. "You were goin' after her the day—" he stopped, and Buffy reached over to grasp his hand.

"Yeah, her batteries ran down," Buffy said. Spike raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated. "She just wanted to find her boyfriend, Warren, and eventually her batteries ran down. It was kind of sad, actually."

"What, Warren?" Willow asked, having thought the whole thing was rather creepy herself.

Buffy shook her head. "No, Warren was pathetic. I mean, what kind of guy would want a robot for a girlfriend?" Spike and Xander exchanged looks but wisely kept silent as Buffy continued. "No, I mean the robot, April. She was just doing what she was created to do. It wasn't her fault that Warren didn't want her anymore. All she wanted was to make him happy."

Spike watched as Buffy fiddled with her engagement ring, and wondered what she was thinking about. He waited until the others had gotten up to dance to ask, though. "What are you thinkin' about, pet?"

"You," Buffy replied quietly. "It's just—Are you happy with me, Spike?"

Spike wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to answer that question. He felt as though it was out of his depth. "Yeah, luv. Wouldn't have asked you to marry me otherwise."

"But what about all of this?" Buffy asked, waving her hand. "I mean, here you are: smart, gorgeous, about to have a book published, and you could have anyone at all. You wouldn't have to stay here in Sunnydale, worrying about whether you were going to be next week's snack. You could—"

"Have a normal life?" he finished for her. Spike watched her from beneath half-closed lids, not quite certain where she was going with this. He felt as though they were both on thin ice, as though anything could happen. "Do you not want me here, Buffy?"

"I love you," she replied softly. "But I want you to be happy more than anything else." The Slayer took a deep breath. "I don't want you to stay with me out of some sense of obligation, or because you've made a promise and you're going to stick by it. I want you to stay because this is what you want."

Spike opened his mouth, ready to swear his love and his eternal devotion, but Buffy stilled him with one finger laid across his lips. "I've been thinking about this a lot," she said softly. "And there's a really good chance that I won't make it out of this fight with Glory alive. It's going to take a lot to beat her—maybe everything I have."

He understood then. The line between life and death was always tenuous at best; for the Slayer, it was more obvious than for most people. Buffy went through her days with her head high, completely focused on her own little world, because it was too painful to admit that life was short. His recent brush with death and Joyce's illness had stripped away that illusion, however. Buffy was facing her mortality—and his—head-on, and she was willing to let him go so he might live. It was a noble sacrifice.

It was also one Spike wasn't about to allow her to make.

"Then we'll just have to make sure you have some reserves, luv," Spike replied. The Slayer looked away, obviously disappointed that he wasn't going to be serious. "Look, Buffy, I know you're the Slayer. I know what that means. Doesn't mean you won't live forever, though. Just means it's a little less likely than it is for the next person. I won't leave you, though. Can't, luv, it's just not in me."

Buffy closed her eyes, and then opened them again, her gaze weighted with a heavy kind of knowledge. "What if I asked you to? To keep you safe?"

"Then you'd have to send everyone else away as well," Spike growled. "Have to be for a soddin' good reason. 'm not like those other guys, Buffy. I don't leave. I don't run when the goin' gets rough."

"No," she agreed. "No running. But, Spike, I just want you to be happy."

He stared at her in bewilderment. "An' what the bloody hell gave you the idea that I'd be happy without you, you daft bint?"

It was a most uncomplimentary way to put things, but Buffy was not insulted. Quite the opposite, in fact. Spike's vehemence was enough to convince her that he was serious. And, while Buffy had been quite ready to play the martyr's role and let him go, she was relieved that she didn't have to go through with it.

As tears started to well up in her eyes, Spike's face softened. "Buffy, luv, 'm sorry. It's just that I'd rather take my chances with you than be anywhere else. Won't tell you I'm not scared, but I've never let that stop me before."

She didn't reply. Buffy pretty much sucked with words; she could admit it. What she did do was to kiss him—long, slow, deep, so that the entire world faded away. In that one kiss were all the promises of forever that they could make, all the reassurances she couldn't bring herself to say.

When they finally broke off the embrace, it was Spike who was the breathless one for once. "I love you so much," Buffy murmured. "More than I ever thought possible. And I trust you with my life."

~~~~~

"Can I get you anything?" Giles asked. "Another cup of tea, perhaps? Or something to eat?"

"You could sit down and tell me what's eating at you," Joyce suggested calmly.

Giles stilled. He had been in constant motion all evening, fiddling with his glasses, moving around abruptly, cooking dinner. While Joyce most certainly appreciated all his efforts, and the way Dawn had seemed to perk up under his gentle attention, she knew that all was not right. "Joyce—"

"Is it really so bad?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious. "Do I look—bad?"

Giles stared at her. "No! Of course not! I—" He passed one hand over his face, refusing to look at the woman he'd come to love. It seemed that he always fell in love with women who were taken from him one way or another. Although Giles wasn't anxious to admit to it, he'd been on the edge of a breakdown the last few days.

It was the relief, you see. He held up perfectly well under pressure.

"No," Giles repeated, more calmly. "You're as beautiful as ever." He put a tender hand to the left side of Joyce's face, the side that drooped a bit now. There was some weakness in her left hand and leg as well, but nothing terribly noticeable, nothing that wouldn't improve with time. To a man who had memorized his beloved's face, however, the change was a startling reminder. "It's just—"

When he paused, Joyce took his hand in her own, pulling him to sit beside her on the bed. "Rupert, you've been jumpy for the last few days. What's wrong?"

"Do you remember Miss Calendar?" Giles asked, trying to disguise the tremor in his voice. "She was one of Buffy's teachers."

"She was killed," Joyce replied, remembering that terrible year. Understanding dawned. "You and she—"

"Were in love," Giles said quietly. "The night she was killed—well, I found her. We never—that is, I'm not sure she ever knew how I felt. Getting Spike's call that there was an emergency—I remembered, and I didn't know if you knew—"

Joyce interrupted. "I think I got the message that night we went out. It really was a perfect evening." Giles shook his head, and Joyce knew. He had been scared to death of losing her. "Do you—not want to be with me? If this has made you rethink—"

He shook his head emphatically. "No." Giles couldn't say anything else. The words seemed to have become stuck in his throat, forming a lump that choked him. He couldn't bear to lose her; he couldn't stand to leave her.

Joyce stood. The house was silent; Dawn was asleep, and Buffy would not be back, of that she was certain. It was safe—and she loved this man. Life was too short not to take a few risks.

Limping slightly, she crossed to the door and gently closed it, then turned back to face Rupert. He was still refusing to look at her, his glasses in one hand, rubbing his eyes with impatient fingers. She knew that the Watcher would find tears a weakness, but even the strongest need to cry sometimes.

She made her slow, faltering way back to him. Joyce couldn't manage anything but the shortest distances without assistance, but she could manage this. She could give him comfort. It was one of her greatest talents.

Feathering his face with kisses, both light and lingering, Joyce demonstrated her love. After only a few moments, he began to respond—desperate, hungry, but careful of her infirmity.

There is a certain kind of passion that comes from age, tempered by wisdom, though no less fierce in its fires. They had known young passion one night years ago, unrestrained, oblivious to the possible consequences. Tonight they made love, and both shed silent tears of joy, of sadness, knowing that time was short and precious. Thankful that they both had a second chance.

And when Joyce fell asleep that night, her head on Giles' chest, she was thinking that he was still a stevedore in bed.

~~~~~

Spike was whistling as he entered the gallery the next morning. An uninterrupted night with Buffy, with plenty of good sex and lots of cuddling, made him one happy camper. His good mood held all that day, even in the midst of cranky customers and short-tempered vendors.

The phone rang just before he closed up, and he answered with a well-hidden sigh. Spike had plans for that evening that did not include work. "William speaking. May I help you?"

"Probably," Buffy's voice said through the line. "It's a special request, though."

"I specialize in that area," Spike purred. "What's up, pet?"

He could hear the smile in her voice. Buffy had had just as good a time as her fiancé. "Just thought I'd stop by the gallery before you left and then I could walk you home."

"I've got the car with me, luv. Thought we were going to meet at your house."

"We were," Buffy replied, a note of defensiveness in her tone. She knew Spike hated to be coddled or thought weak, but she didn't really want to take any chances with his safety either. "I can't wait till then."

Spike knew she was lying, but he thought he would let her get away with it this time. "Fine, luv. I'm just closin' up now if you want to meet me here."

"I'm at the Magic Box," Buffy replied. "I'll be there in five."

Five minutes later it was Tara, not Buffy, that walked through the front door. "Mr. Giles found a text he thought would be helpful," she explained. "Buffy thought we could meet back there instead."

Spike shrugged. "Sure. Won't take but a mo in the car."

They walked out of the gallery together, chatting idly about small matters, and Spike turned to lock up. Beside him, he heard a gasp, and he turned to see what had upset Tara.

Glory grinned at him. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Slayer's boyfriend. I wonder what kind of information you've got in that pretty head of yours. Let's find out, shall we?"

~~~~~

Buffy glanced up at the clock in the Magic Box. "When did Tara leave?"

Willow's eyes followed her friend's gaze and she frowned. "About ten minutes ago. Why?"

"They should have been back by now," the Slayer said. "Spike said he was driving today."

Willow shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "I'm sure they're probably just talking or something."

Buffy wasn't so sure, but she went back to her reading. Giles had been right in the middle of an explanation about Glory's possible aims when it had been time for her to leave. Tara had volunteered to go meet him instead. There were times when Buffy wondered if she shouldn't be jealous of the blonde witch, nevermind that she was definitely gay and that her relationship with Spike was much like his with Dawn. They just seemed to connect on a level she couldn't quite reach, which she found odd.

Five minutes later, Buffy was looking at the clock again. She stood abruptly. "I'm going to go down to the gallery," she announced.

Willow frowned and then put her book down as well. "I'll go with you. I could probably use the chance to stretch my legs anyway."

"You want us to go too, Buf?" Xander asked.

The Slayer shook her head. "No, that's okay, Xan. You stay here. I'm sure it's nothing."

Willow linked her arm through Buffy's as they exited the Magic Box. "We could stop by the Espresso Pump on the way back," she suggested. "With a night of research ahead of us, mochas might be a good thing."

"Good idea, Will," Buffy said. "And that's exactly what I'm going to tell Spike when he asks. He hates it when he thinks I'm being protective."

Willow shrugged. "It's not like there isn't anything that goes bump in the night," she pointed out. "And besides, Spike knows you get protective because you love him. It's not like he can really argue with that."

~~~~~

Tara wasn't sure what she should do. Willow was the one with the power; her strengths were quieter, more controlled, softer. There was no way she could take Glory on, and Spike had put himself in front of her anyway.

If he hadn't already locked the door of the gallery, Tara would have dashed inside and tried to call Buffy. As it was, they weren't expecting them back at the shop for another few minutes, and the Hellgod could do a lot of damage in a very short period of time.

Glory was speaking now, and Tara listened to her threats. "You're going to tell me where to find my Key. The Slayer has what's mine, and I want it back."

"Way I understand it, wasn't yours to begin with," Spike said, his tone so cocky Tara could hardly believe it. It was like he had no fear. In the next second, she understood why.

"Don't mess with me," Glory warned him, grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming him up against the building so hard Tara winced at the sound. "You won't live to regret it."

All of Glory's attention was focused on Spike now, and there seemed to be nothing standing between Tara and freedom. If only she could find Buffy or Willow. The Magic Box was close, if she could just slip away—

"Where do you think you're going?" Glory demanded, grabbing the witch by the arm and tossing her back against the building next to Spike. "You know, that's what's wrong with people today. They're so rude! Running away before I'm done! Don't you know how rude that is?"

Since a reply seemed to be called for, Tara stammered out, "S-s-sorry."

"You should be!" Glory replied angrily. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. My Key. See, I think at least one of you knows where it is, and I think it might be you." Her eyes fixed on Spike. "You and Slutty the Vampire Slayer seem so very close."

"Sorry, ducks," Spike replied smoothly, hoping to draw Glory's attention back onto himself. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell a sorry lookin' bint like yourself."

"I'm not sorry looking!" Glory protested. "I'm beautiful."

Spike's eyes raked her up and down in a heated glance even a Hellgod was no match for. After a long, drawn-out pause, he shook his head, almost apologetically. "Your arse is lopsided," he observed. "An' one of your tits is bigger than the other. Plus, your hair is frizzy, an' you don't have the fashion sense God gave a goose."

After that litany of insults, Glory gave an outraged shriek and descended on Spike, fists flying. Tara wasted no time. While she hated to leave Spike, she also understood exactly what he was doing, and that it would be a useless sacrifice if she didn't take advantage of Glory's distraction.

Again, however, Tara just wasn't quite quick enough. Spike's form went flying past her, deeper into the alley that ran between the gallery and the shop next door, and Glory was in front of her, blocking her escape. "Hey, loverboy!" Glory called, her tone gleeful. "See what you get when you don't cooperate?"

Tara didn't even have time to scream before the Hellgod's hands plunged into her head. It didn't occur to her that the scream she heard wasn't her own.

~~~~~

Willow stiffened in shock when she heard the cry. "Buffy, that's—"

"Oh, God," Buffy muttered, taking off at a run and offering up a brief to prayer to any Power that might take pity. It had seemed to work for Spike recently.

The flying kick at least took Glory by surprise and got her away from Tara. Willow took it from there; one moment the Hellgod was standing there, and the next she wasn't.

Distracted for a moment, Buffy asked, "Willow, what did you just do?"

"Teleported her," Willow said, focusing on Tara and swaying slightly. "Probably not very far, but hopefully far enough."

Buffy nodded, staring at Tara, who was gibbering about spiders. "Willow—"

"We have to get her to the hospital." When the red-headed witch looked up she had her resolve face on, but there was a silent plea in her eyes for Buffy not to break down.

The Slayer nodded. "I'll get Spike."

Spike was barely conscious. He'd been aware of flying through the air, of coming to sudden halt courtesy of a brick wall, and of Glory screaming something at him, but that was about it. He was dimly aware of Buffy saying something to him, urging him to rise, and he struggled to comply. "Tara—"

"Willow's got her," Buffy assured him, keeping her tone low and even. "We need to get both of you to the hospital."

Spike wasn't so groggy that the meaning of those words didn't penetrate. "Tara—where is she? Is she—"

"We need to get to the hospital Spike," Buffy interrupted. "Do you have your keys?"

"By the door, I think," Spike muttered. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. His face felt like it was on fire, and he was thinking that dying looked like a tempting alternative at this point.

"Right," Buffy said. "Keys, car, hospital. And then I think we need to talk about getting out of town."
 

"How like a winter hath my absence been/From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!/ What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!/What old December's bareness everywhere!...For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,/And, thou away, the very birds are mute;/Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer/That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near." ~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 97
 

Spike was released after only a few hours, time enough for x-rays to ensure there was no internal bleeding and to prescribe pain meds for the broken ribs. What it boiled down to, once again, was that he'd been very lucky. Any one of the four ribs Glory had broken could have easily pierced a lung. Instead, he was bruised, limping, and an eye was swollen shut, but he was alive and mobile.

Tara was in worse shape.

The doctors were willing to discharge her almost immediately as well, once Willow assured them she would be cared for. There was no more room in the psych ward, and they were sending as many patients home with family as they could. The doctors weren't even trying to explain the rash of insanity anymore. They simply handed out sedatives and anti-psychotics like candy, hoping that the right medications would do what they couldn't.

Willow had held it together admirably, mostly by focusing completely on Tara's well-being. There was a part of Buffy that wondered when the explosion would come, when Willow would start screaming for blood vengeance, but the Slayer was concentrating on Spike.

Spike—who was staring at Tara in utter dismay. "Oh, Glinda."

Tara seemed caught by his voice as she hadn't been by anyone else's. "Blood doesn't matter," she announced.

In spite of his injuries, Spike was across the room in moments. "That's right, luv. Blood doesn't matter." His hand on her cheek seemed to calm her for a few moments, but then Tara was chattering on about being lost again, amidst spiders and darkness.

Buffy could see his jaw tense, and she knew he felt guilty about it. Heck, she felt guilty about it. She was the Slayer, and the job description entailed preventing just such events as this.

"Are we all ready?" Buffy asked, trying for cheerfulness, and almost managing it.

Willow, equally determined to keep a positive outlook, nodded. "Yeah. Why don't we get out of here?"

"Spike?" Buffy called when he didn't move.

He glanced up, startled out of his thoughts. "What—oh. Yeah, whenever...we're ready."

Buffy could see the raw pain in his eyes and felt renewed guilt. Spike had enough guilt to deal with as it was; he didn't need any more added on. It simply renewed her determination. The Slayer knew something had to happen. Glory had come after Spike; there was no indication that she wouldn't try it again.

And next time, Buffy was certain that Spike wouldn't be so lucky.

~~~~~

The gathering at Revello Drive was a grim one. Willow sat next to Tara on the couch, hanging onto her girlfriend's hand. Tara was sleepy and sedated by the medications the doctor had given her, and her head kept drooping.

Spike was seated on the other end of the couch, pain in every line of his body. He'd refused anything stronger than aspirin, and he was watching Giles pace in front of the fireplace. Buffy was perched next to him, and Joyce, Anya and Xander were scattered around the room. It was a council of war, and Buffy had moved into general-mode.

Normally, Spike would have been very turned on. Under the circumstances, he was was just trying to focus on what the Slayer was saying. "You can't stay in town."

"I bloody well can," Spike retorted. "'m not leavin' you."

Buffy shook her head. "It's not safe. Now that Glory's started coming after my friends and family, we can't stay here. If we all left—"

"We can't!" Willow protested immediately. "Buffy, I'm not sure if I can fix Tara, but I know that if we leave she doesn't have a chance. At least if we stay, I might be able to reverse it, maybe even hurt Glory."

It was this last that was Willow's main goal, Spike knew. The red-headed witch wanted vengeance, and he didn't blame her. He wanted revenge too, but Willow was no match for the Hellgod, not in a long, drawn-out battle. Spike wasn't sure that any of them were.

"Okay," Buffy said, sighing. She'd actually been wondering if there was a chance that Willow could help Tara, and if they should stick around to chance it. "Fine, but Spike still needs to get out of town." Turning to her fiancé, she added, "Glory's targeted you now, Spike. If she comes after you again, you won't even be able to run away."

"Wasn't able to run away this time," he grumbled, refusing to look at either Buffy or Tara. "An' I'm not leavin' you to face her alone."

"She won't be alone, Spike," Giles broke in. "And I believe Buffy's right. If Glory has focused on you as having the location to her Key, she will most likely come after you again. You might not be able to avoid telling her its location next time."

All eyes drifted to the stairs. Dawn was supposed to be sleeping, but Spike wondered, knowing that the girl had a nasty habit of listening at doors. "I don't know what you think the rest of us can do," Anya said. "You saw what Glory did to Tara."

"We'll just have to be more careful," Buffy said. "Besides, Spike's the one I've been spending the most time with. It makes sense that Glory would think he would know about the Key."

Xander nodded bravely. "Sure, Buf. You know we're behind you on this one."

Buffy turned to look at Spike. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you," she said in a low voice. "It would destroy me, and then how would I deal with Glory? I need to know you're safe." When he opened his mouth to argue again, the Slayer shook her head. "You're not in any shape to help with anything, and it's going to take weeks for you to heal. Please don't argue with me."

Spike sighed. "Fine. But if 'm goin', 'm still goin' to help." He looked past Buffy at Giles. "Think it's time we go to plan B, mate."

At Giles' nod, Buffy frowned. "There's a plan B? I didn't think we even had a plan A," she objected.

Giles appeared uncomfortable. "Yes, well, Spike came to me soon after the hospital patient recognized Dawn. At that point we both realized that extreme measures might have to be taken in order to ensure her safety."

"Extreme measures?" Buffy demanded. "You were talking about extreme measures without me?"

"They didn't have anything to do with you, luv," Spike said gently. "It was—just in case."

A silence fell around the room as they all realized what "just in case" meant—in event of the Slayer's death. "Okay." Buffy took a deep breath. "What was the plan?"

"I take Dawn and get out of town, just the two of us," Spike explained slowly. "The idea was for Red and—an' Glinda to do a glamour, make it seem like the Bit never left. Figured it would be easiest to explain me goin'."

"And you agreed?" Buffy asked Giles.

Her Watcher nodded. "I wasn't sure it would come to that, but now I think it might have. Willow is right, we cannot leave, not with any hope of restoringTara. But it isn't safe for either Spike or Dawn to stay here."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. "And how is Spike supposed to protect Dawn when he's hurt? Or ever? I'm the Slayer. It's my job!"

"Yeah, Buffy, but if Dawn's not here for Glory to get her hands on, maybe that'll be enough to stop her from ending the world or whatever," Xander said. "If she doesn't know Dawn's the Key, then Dawn's absence won't matter."

Buffy shook her head. "We don't know how long they would have to be gone," she objected. "It could be—"

"A long time," Joyce said, speaking for the first time. "Buffy, Rupert and William have already spoken to me about this. As they said, it was supposed to be a last resort, but I believe it's the best protection Dawn might have."

Quietly, Giles added, "Glory would not expect you to let the Key out of your sight, Buffy. Not being here with you might be Dawn's best chance for survival."

"How long?" Buffy asked. "Do you even know?"

"Seems Glory's getting pretty impatient," Spike said. "Don't think it'll be terribly long, luv." And then, in a whisper, he added, "Don't you trust me, Buffy?"

She did; Buffy trusted him with her life, but she was the Slayer. It was her job to take care of Dawn, to make sure Glory didn't get her hands on the girl. She was unused to delegating responsibility as there had never been anyone she could truly give that responsibility to.

And yet, in her gut Buffy knew Spike was correct. Away from the Slayer, Dawn would be safer. Glory would never suspect that she might send the Key away.

"I could do an illusion," Willow said. "That kind of thing doesn't take a lot of power, as long as it's simple."

"We were thinking of telling everyone that Dawn was sick with mono," Giles said. "It would be plausible, and then she would be sleeping most of the time, for a potentially long period of time."

"I believe this is the right thing to do, Buffy," Joyce added. "And Dawn is my daughter. I know you're the Slayer, but it's my decision to make."

Buffy took a deep breath and looked around the room. She could see fear in all their faces, but there was determination as well. They would stand by her until Glory was taken care of.

Spike's bruised countenance carried a mixture of resignation, determination and sadness. He didn't think she would let him do this, Buffy realized, and it was important to him. It was important that he be allowed to help, rather than just slinking away, and he thought it was the best way to keep Dawn safe.

He also knew—she could tell—that it might be a long time before it was safe enough for him to return.

"Where are you going to go?" she asked, hearing the sighs around the room after her decision was made. Dawn would go with Spike; he would keep her safe.

"L.A.," he replied. "To Angel. For a while, at least. If we have to, we'll move on from there."

Buffy nodded. "When?"

"Tomorrow night," Giles said, looking at Willow in question. "If  Willow can have the illusion ready?"

"I can get it done."

Xander tried to lighten the moment. "Great! Spike gets a vacation and the rest of us are stuck in good, old Sunnydale."

His joke fell flat, and Buffy refused to look away from Spike, knowing he felt the same way she did. There was no such thing as a vacation if they were so far from one another.

On the stairs, Dawn hugged herself tightly, half frightened, half excited. It terrified her to think that Glory could be coming for her, that the Hellgod had hurt Tara so badly, and yet it was thrilling to think of leaving with Spike. It would be an adventure of sorts.

At least, that's what she was going to keep telling herself until she believed it.

~~~~~

"Let me get that for you," Buffy said softly as Spike started to unbutton his shirt. He was grateful he hadn't worn something that had to be pulled over his head, because he would never have gotten it back on, injured as he was.

His hands fell away, and she slowly undid his shirt, her fingers gently brushing his skin. "I hate this," she confessed. "I hate that you're leaving."

"You're the one who wanted me to go," Spike reminded her, and Buffy could hear the slightly sour note in his voice.

Buffy stopped unbuttoning abruptly. "I didn't want you to go," she corrected him. "I just don't want to have to go through this again."

"Go through what?"

"Thinking I'm going to lose you."

There was a long silence, and then Spike let out a sigh. "You're right, luv, 'm sorry. I know you're just tryin' to protect me, but—"

"You can take care of yourself," she finished. "And if Glory wasn't a god, I wouldn't argue with that, but I've taken a beating from her before. I'm amazed you're still standing."

"I'm not, actually," Spike replied with a bit of a smile, as he was seated on the bed. She chuckled a little as he meant for her to do. "I'll take care of her, luv. Till the end of the world."

Buffy leaned her forehead against his. "I know you will. Dawn couldn't be in better hands." When he opened his mouth, she stilled his words with her fingers. "Even my hands, Spike. You were right, Dawn's safest if we send her away. Maybe we should have done that at the very beginning."

"Might have been too obvious then," he reassured her. "This way, Glory won't ever have expected it."

"I wish I knew how long..." Buffy ran a gentle hand through his hair.

"Me too."

It was impossible to make love that night, even though it would be their last opportunity for a while. Spike's broken ribs were too sore to do much but cuddle, and even that was a bit painful as Buffy kept bumping him in her sleep.

Spike really didn't want to leave; he wanted the chance to stay by his Slayer's side and face the danger with her, as he had done with Adam. He'd proved then that he was perfectly capable of stopping an apocalypse, even with only his human strength.

At the same time, however, Buffy had given him an incredible gift by deciding to send Dawn with him. Spike had never thought to see the day when she trusted him enough to put someone else's life in his hands, when she trusted that he could really help her in an integral fashion. It would be up to him to protect the Key now.

For however long it took—till the end of the world.

Spike finally drifted off to sleep around dawn, waking when Buffy shook him in the late afternoon. "What time is it?"

"It's around 3," she replied. "I thought you might want to get cleaned up and packed before you went rushing out of here."

"'s prob'ly a good idea," he agreed, sleep slurring his words.

Buffy stroked his sleep-mussed hair. "I called Angel, but there wasn't any answer. I left a message, though. Hopefully he'll get it before you arrive."

"Doesn't matter," Spike said, grunting in pain as he pushed himself up. "If Peaches isn't there, we'll hole up at his place. No one'll expect us to stay then."

"Sounds like a plan," Buffy agreed, running a lingering hand down his face. She couldn't seem to stop touching him. "I'll get something for you to eat while you get cleaned up. The clothes you left here last time are in the bathroom."

Spike caught her hand in his. "We'll sort this out, luv."

She smiled, unable to reply, unable to quite believe him.

~~~~~

Dawn fiddled with her glass as she listened to Joyce explain how she was going away with Spike for a while. To keep her safe, she said. Dawn didn't have the heart to tell her mother that she'd already heard the whole thing, not least because she wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping anyway. The last time she'd done it, there had been a long lecture coupled with Joyce's disappointed-face; not something Dawn wanted to face again right now.

"How long?" Dawn finally asked quietly.

Joyce sighed. It was the best decision, of that she was certain, but that didn't mean she was comfortable sending her baby away. Like Buffy, Joyce tended to believe in her own ability to keep her girls safe, never mind that it just wasn't possible in this case.

She felt like she was a bad mother, not keeping Dawn with her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "If it looks like it's going to be for too long, we'll work something out." Joyce reached across the kitchen island and took her daughter's hand. "You know I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't have to, right?"

Dawn looked up at her mother, her blue eyes serious, showing a maturity no one would have guessed she possessed. "It's okay, Mom, really. I mean, Spike'll take good care of me, and this way Buffy can concentrate on getting Tara better."

Joyce squeezed her hand. "You're growing up so quickly."

"Kinda have to," Dawn said, smiling bravely. "Besides, I get out of school, so that's cool."

The older woman came around to give Dawn a hug, holding her tightly. It was the not-knowing that was the hardest; if Joyce could be certain that Dawn would be back in a week or even two, it would be more like sending the girl off to summer camp. As things stood, however, she didn't know if it would be a week, or two, or even a month.

Or longer. It could be for longer.

Joyce reminded herself that she should be grateful that she could trust Dawn to Spike's capable hands.

It should be enough to keep Dawn safe. It had to be.

~~~~~

"You got what you need, Bit?" Spike asked that night as they got ready to leave. "Not comin' back for anything."

She shook her head. "I'm all packed."

"That's good." He touched her hair with a wistful smile. "Just you an' me, luv. Should be fun."

Fun wasn't the word for it, but Dawn wasn't going to argue. "Yep. Road trip time."

Willow had come by earlier in the day to set up the glamour and say her goodbyes. Tara had been with her, of course, and she'd made comments about "pretty green swirls" that had Spike and Buffy exchanging glances. It definitely wasn't safe for Dawn to stick around while one of their own could identify her as the Key, not even knowing what she was doing.

Xander had shaken Spike's hand before he left the previous night, not saying a word, and Anya had cheerfully told them, "Good luck. I hope you don't get killed." Coming from Anya, Spike found that touching.

Buffy's touch was gentle as she wrapped her arms around him. "I miss you already."

"Same here." Spike held her, his chin resting on the top of her head. Next to them, Joyce was giving Dawn a hug and telling her to listen to Spike and stay out of trouble while Giles looked on.

"I know you'll take care of her," Buffy said, pulling back so that she could see his face. One side was swollen and purple, the eye almost shut. "But take care of yourself too, okay?"

"Why wouldn't I when I've got you to come back to?" he asked, rhetorically. Then they were kissing, gently because of Spike's bruised face, desperate because it was goodbye and there was a Hellgod on the loose.

Their kiss might have gone on forever if both of them hadn't needed to breathe. When they finally came up for air, Spike's hand was fisted in the Slayer's hair, and she had a fistful of his shirt. Neither wanted to let go.

Spike rested his forehead against Buffy's for a moment before kissing her again. "Soon."

Buffy wanted to ask him to define "soon," wanted to scream at him for making promises. She wanted to grab him and Dawn and just make a run for it. Not since the prophecy about her death at the hands of the Master did she want to run so badly.

"Absolutely," was her only reply.

The moment was gone. Everything had seemed to be moving in slow motion up to that point, and suddenly it was on fast forward. Spike hugged Joyce and shook Giles hand. Giles hugged Dawn, much to his own surprise, as well as everyone else's. Buffy hugged Dawn.

And then everybody had been hugged, or had their hands shaken, and there was no more reason to stall. Spike was taking Joyce's car because it was in better condition than the DeSoto, as well as not being quite so noticeable. The bags were loaded. Everything was all set.

There was one last flurry of goodbyes and hugs and handshakes, and then Spike and Dawn climbed in and were gone.

Buffy felt as though she was watching her whole life drive away.

~~~~~

The drive was made mostly in silence. Spike was in quite a bit of pain, as he hadn't taken any of the pills the doctor had prescribed for his broken ribs. Not a good idea to be driving while under the influence of narcotics.

So he was keeping his teeth clenched and his eyes on the road, concentrating on staying in the lines rather than on the worry he felt.

It was Dawn who finally broke the silence. "Am I bad?"

"What?" His tone was sharp, and Spike glanced over to look at the girl incredulously.

"Am I bad?" Dawn asked again. "I mean, you and—and Tara, you guys were hurt because of me. And we have to leave Sunnydale because of me. If I'm not evil—"

"You can be a brat sometimes, Dawn, but you're not evil," Spike said in as even a tone as he could manage. Damn those monks for doing this to a child. "I've seen evil, an' you're not it."

"But, Glory keeps doing these things," she protested. Dawn didn't understand how so much pain could come about because of a person, and yet that person not have something fundamentally wrong with them.

Spike sighed. "Is a knife evil, Bit? Or one of those axes your sis uses sometimes?"

Dawn frowned. "No. I mean, Buffy uses that sort of stuff to help people."

"But somebody could use her knife to hurt someone, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Does that make the knife or the ax good or bad?"

Dawn thought she was beginning to see where this was going. "No. It's just a weapon or a tool."

"That's right, luv," Spike said gently. "It's just a tool that can be used for good or ill. What matters is the hand of the person holdin' it. Way I understand it, you were energy, an' that's not good or bad. It just is. An' now you're a special person, an' that's definitely a good thing in my book."

Dawn blinked back tears. "But you and Tara were hurt because of me."

"No, we were hurt because Glory is an evil bitch," Spike replied easily. "And there are always goin' to be those out in the world."

Dawn thought about that for a minute. She wasn't sure she completely agreed with Spike, since it didn't seem to quite fit the feeling in her gut. "Is Buffy going to be okay?"

"'course. She's the Slayer."

Dawn stared at Spike. "Don't lie to me."

"Then I don't know," he replied, his tone heavy. "Buffy's job is to help Willow put Tara back together, an' to throw Glory off our tail, make sure she doesn't come after us. We run, she fights, an' fighting is always dangerous."

Dawn thought maybe she didn't want the truth after all.

~~~~~

Giles wasn't quite sure what to do. Like Spike, he believed that sending Dawn away was the best option of a bad lot. There was a part of him that whispered it should have been done from the beginning. At the same time, as he watched Joyce in the kitchen, obviously struggling with a maelstrom of emotion, Giles wished something else could have been done.

Times like this, he felt that there were two competing personalities: the man and the Watcher.

Tonight, at least, the man was in charge.

"Are you alright?"

Joyce looked at him over her shoulder from where she was putting together a couple sandwiches, more because she wanted something to do than because anyone was hungry. "I'm fine." She paused. "You know, I remember when Dawn was nine, we sent her off to a summer camp. Both her and Buffy, actually. Hank and I had been fighting non-stop, and we both thought a little time to ourselves might help the marriage. She made it two days before we got a frantic phone call saying that she wanted to come home."

Managing a weak smile, Joyce put a sandwich in front of Giles. "We argued about whether to get her, of course. Hank thought it would be good for her to stay, and I wasn't about to let my baby suffer. So I went to get her."

"She's fifteen now, Joyce," Giles reminded her gently. "I imagine she'll be able to handle a few nights away from home at this point. Who knows? She might even enjoy it, and Spike will be with her, so she's not alone."

"I know that," Joyce replied. "If anyone will take care of Dawn, it's William. I trust him completely. But she's my baby, and we don't know when this is going to be finished."

Giles didn't try to give her false comfort. Everything she'd said was the truth. So, he did the only thing he could think to do under the circumstances. He held her while she clung to him. And then he kissed her, tasting the bittersweetness of worry mixed with love.

Buffy watched the little tableau from the doorway of the kitchen, finally turning to head back upstairs. She had to admit that she was jealous of her mom. Jealous that she had someone to glean strength from. Buffy wanted Spike. Wanted him with an intensity only felt by those whose loved ones were far from them.

When this was all over, the Slayer promised herself, she was going to take some time for just the two of them. She would make sure that Spike knew how much she needed him, how much she relied upon him.

That it would be impossible to do this without him.

~~~~~

The hotel was dark when they arrived. Willow and Cordelia had kept in touch, at least enough to know that Angel had gotten a new base of operations not long after Spike had dropped in.

Somehow, the Hyperion didn't much surprise Spike, who had always known Angel had a bit of the dramatic in him. The faded décor seemed to be the perfect counterpoint to the Great Brooder's persona.

"No one's home," Dawn said, her voice echoing through the empty lobby.

Spike shrugged. "Then we'll wait till they get back. No one'll be lookin' for us here, anyway."

Dawn wasn't quite sure what to think about that plan. "It seems kind of spooky."

"Bet it was a bit different when it was an actual hotel," Spike replied. "Probably full of people. Would have been an interesting place."

That got the girl thinking along different lines, looking around, imagining what it would have been like blazing with lights and activity. "I guess it would have been cool."

"Why don't we go see what the room accomodations look like," Spike suggested. "We can catch some sleep an' then go explorin' some other time."

There was electricity and running water, at least, which told Spike that Angel hadn't been gone so long that he hadn't paid the bills or that he'd had utilities turned off. With some searching, they found two rooms next to each other that were clean enough for use. One of the rooms they'd opened was Angel's, and Spike briefly thought about sleeping there, just to piss him off.

After making sure Dawn was settled in, Spike went back downstairs, however. Even though it was unlikely anyone knew where they were, he didn't want to sleep upstairs, where he couldn't hear someone come in. It seemed too much like tempting fate.

Spike began to methodically search the office area, looking for clues as to where Angel and his gang might have gone. The papers and case files didn't give him many clues, though, and while he recognized his grandsire's handwriting on a few things, there were many more notes in an an unfamiliar scribble.

Finally, Spike checked the message machine. One of the messages was Buffy's, letting Angel know that he and Dawn were on their way and that they would explain once they got to L.A. The other message was Angel's own.

Spike frowned as he listened. "So, as soon as Wes solves our scattering problem, we'll be leaving. Don't know if we're coming back. It's 11:16. Cordy's been gone for almost 24 hours now. I think I covered everything. Oh, the mortgage for the hotel is under the company name. The lease is up in six months, or that's what they tell me, so...I guess that's it. Take care of yourself."

"Well, isn't that a kicker," Spike murmured. Angel was gone, and didn't know if he or anyone else would return. Or when. Which meant that he and Dawn were alone in the hotel for the duration. Without any backup, Spike was seriously reconsidering the defensive capabilities of the hotel.

If they stayed, he would have to see about rigging some booby traps, looking for escape routes, setting up a plan for Dawn if they were overrun. If something happened to him, she would need a place to go.

Spike replayed the message, grabbing a pen and pad of paper, starting to make notes. He had plans to make, things to do, traps to set.

If it wasn't such a serious situation, he'd have been as excited as a kid on Christmas.
 

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