Avocation2

Avocation

Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play. Really.

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.

Summary: The gypsies curse the wrong vampire, and by the time they rectify their mistake, Spike has been fundamentally altered. Nearly a century later, the Slayer needs help, and there's only one person qualified for the job. Of course, he's not real interested in taking it.

A/N: I have a secret (or not-so-secret) weakness for early canon Spuffy fics. The only problem is that Spike is evil. No, really, he is. Which means that actually writing Spuffy pre-chip requires more suspension of disbelief than I can manage. Reading it is a different matter altogether. So, this is how I write early canon Spuffy. By altering events entirely. By the way, the title comes from a Robert Frost poem, "Two Tramps in Mud Time." Pay special attention to the last stanza.

Chapter 6

"Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;/Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were here!/But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!/Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!..." ~Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Ashes of Life"

It had been nearly a week since Buffy had seen Spike, and she desperately wished that she didn't care. Of course, wondering where Spike was did take her mind off of missing Angel. It was really a no-win situation.

Buffy really didn't care where the vampire was, or why he hadn't shown his face. It was just that he'd repeated over and over how he was sticking around, and that he was getting paid to protect her. His absence seemed to indicate that he'd been all talk and no action, despite his help with Angelus.

She was still dreaming about Angel, nearly every night. They were always in the sunlight, and Angel was never Angelus, and he always swore his undying love. Buffy wasn't sure what to make of that.

At seventeen, she could hardly comprehend loving someone else as much as she had loved him. Buffy felt as though her life was over. Hadn't she done everything now? She had died, she'd loved a man, and she'd had to kill him. What could possibly top that?

Everyone was being so careful around her. There had been a dozen instances where Willow or Xander, or even Giles, had stopped what they were saying mid-sentence in order to avoid any reference to Angel or Angelus. Cordelia was the only one who didn't guard her tongue, and Buffy sometimes found herself absurdly grateful for that.

She also knew that she was being extremely bitchy, and she couldn't seem to help herself, so Buffy avoided everyone. It was easier that way, and it was easier not to see the others acting all couple-y while she was alone.

The Slayer was always alone. She'd learned that lesson pretty well this last year.

"What are we fighting tonight? Vampires or just inner demons?"

Buffy paused, recognizing the mocking voice immediately. "What do you want, Spike?"

"Told you, I'm here to make sure you stay alive." He emerged from the shadows, right at her elbow, and Buffy wondered how he'd disguised his presence from her.

Buffy gave him a sour look. "Then where have you been for the last week?"

"Miss me, pet?"

"Don't call me that, and no, I didn't miss you," she snapped irritably. "How are you going to help me if you're not around, though?"

"Who said I wasn't around?" Spike asked, smiling.

Her eyes narrowed. "You've been spying on me?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I told you I'd be around, Slayer. It's your own fault for not realizing I was there."

Buffy didn't particularly like that idea. She didn't much like taking the blame for anything these days. Even the slightest hint of reproach was enough to bring her defenses up. "You were stalking me."

He smirked. "Just call me your own personal bodyguard. Not every girl has one."

"Stay out of my way, Spike!"

"Not in your way."

"Fine." Buffy marched off, knowing full well that Spike was ambling along behind her, keeping up but appearing to move at his own speed. It was really annoying her. She whirled to face him, her anger boiling over. "I hate you!"

Spike lifted an eyebrow. "Okay," he agreed pleasantly.

"Why do you have to do that?" Buffy demanded. "Why do you have to be so—so—"

"Tolerant?" he asked.

"Insufferable!"

"That's an awfully big word, luv," Spike said. He was infuriatingly calm, and Buffy suddenly couldn't take it any longer. Her fist flew out, catching him by surprise. The Slayer wasn't prepared to have him hit back, his punch catching her on the cheek, her head snapping back. "Don't do that unless you're ready for the consequences," he warned, his voice low.

Somehow his warning just fueled her rage, and Buffy flew at him. Her anger hampered her slightly, but after the first few minutes she realized that Spike wasn't going for the kill, or even a disabling blow. Instead, he seemed intent on keeping the fight going for as long as possible.

She wasn't striking to hurt, and neither was he; they were almost sparring, even as Buffy found herself growing tired.

The Slayer wasn't sure who disengaged first. One minute the punches and kicks were still flying, still being blocked, and the next minute they had stopped, a few feet away from each other. Spike was wearing his usual mocking smile, and he raised an eyebrow. "Ready for another round, or shall we call a truce?"

"You could have killed me," Buffy pointed out.

"Several times, in fact," Spike agreed. "That would defeat the purpose of making sure you stay alive."

She watched him for another moment before relaxing her guard just slightly. "Yeah, I guess so."

Spike watched her, amusement warring with interest in his eyes. The fight had been exhilarating. He'd never fought a Slayer before, although he'd wanted to. Even sparring with one would have been pleasurable, but he'd never been certain that he could trust the Watchers' Council to let him be afterwards. The last thing he'd wanted was to be pressed to answer questions he had no intention of answering.

"You going to stop being such a bitch?" Spike asked conversationally. From his tone, he might as well have been asking about the weather.

Buffy glared at him again. "I'm not—" She stopped, knowing full well he was right. She turned on her heel and walked off, unsurprised when Spike fell into step next to her. "Did you find a place?"

Spike glanced over at her in surprise. It looked like they were starting their conversation over again, this time politely. "I did."

The short answer left little room for reply or question. Buffy finally said, "I think I'm going to head home."

"Would you like me to walk you?"

Buffy very nearly snarled at him, telling him she didn't need his protection. Then she bit her tongue. While every one of her other friends had been dancing around her grief, treating it like the elephant in the room, Spike seemed to be facing it head on. At least he wasn't treating her as though she was made of glass. It was a nice change.

"I guess. If you want." It was a rather noncommittal answer, but it must have satisfied Spike since he kept walking with her.

They were both silent on the walk home. Buffy had to admit that she felt better. Some of the anger she'd felt had been released during her impromptu battle with Spike. The grief was quiet for the moment, if only because she was tired.

Spike walked her all the way up to the door, and then stood there, watching her. "Do you want to come in?" Buffy finally asked.

He shrugged. "I could."

The Slayer didn't know how to deal with him, how to take his short answers and long silences. "Mom knows, by the way."

"Knows what?" he asked with a frown.

"About you lying to her," Buffy replied, smiling when he looked slightly embarrassed. "She wasn't mad, though. I explained what was going on, and I guess she went to talk with Giles."

Buffy had no idea why she was telling him all this, why it would matter that he knew. Spike was an anomaly. Even more than Angel was, she thought.

"It's good that she knows the truth," Spike finally said. "I'm glad she wasn't mad at me."

The last statement was almost a question, and Buffy shook her head in response. "She wasn't."

They might have stood there, watching each other, all night. Something about their furious sparring—or was it a real fight?—had fundamentally changed how they viewed each other. For Buffy, at least, it was because Spike was the only one who hadn't taken any shit from her. He was the first to hit back when she had struck out in anger.

Angel had never done that.

Spike, for his part, found the girl fascinating. She was so full of fire, he had no idea how she'd managed to fall in love with Angelus. It wasn't that Spike had kept an eye on his grandsire, or even that he'd cared to know what the bastard was doing—but he'd known. They had both drifted through the world like shadows. Spike liked to think that Angelus had heard about some of his exploits, just as Spike had known that Angelus was still brooding over his past sins.

He didn't really like the girl, but he felt sorry for her. Spike had to keep reminding himself that she was young—barely more than a child, and she had just lost her first love. He'd been there and done that. He remembered what those first awful days had been like.

Spike remembered how long it had taken him to not feel a hot rush of anger every time Drusilla had crossed his mind. It was no wonder the Slayer was acting like such a bitch—he'd probably been a right bastard himself.

The door opened, startling both of them out of their thoughts. "Are you two going to stand out there all night?" Joyce asked, sounding amused. She glanced over at Spike. "Do you want to come inside, William?"

He did and he didn't. Spike was suddenly afraid of getting too close. "No, thanks." Turning abruptly, he called out a goodbye over his shoulder before Buffy could stop him.

Not that he thought she would.

"Spike!"

He hesitated, and then turned slightly. "Yeah?"

"I owe you a drink."

Spike nodded slowly. "Suppose you do."

"Tomorrow night?" Buffy asked. "Around ten, at the Bronze?"

"Sure," he replied, and then, shoving his hands into his pockets, he disappeared into the night.

Spike had been a shadow for so long, he wasn't sure what it meant that he'd started feeling solid again.

~~~~~

"Why didn't you invite him inside, Buffy?" Joyce asked reproachfully.

Buffy couldn't believe she was taking the blame for Spike's reluctance to come into the house. "I did ask him," she replied. "He just didn't want to, that's all."

Joyce frowned. "Does he have a place to stay? Because if he doesn't—"

Buffy cut her mom off. "He said he found a place, Mom. Oz was helping him."

"That's good." Joyce still appeared to be thinking about Spike and his abrupt departure.

Buffy bit back a sigh, wondering why Joyce seemed to like Spike. "Don't worry about him, Mom. Spike can take care of himself."

Joyce shook her head ruefully. "I'm sure he can, sweetheart, but—" She didn't finish her thought. "Maybe you should invite him over for dinner sometime."

"Vampires don't eat," Buffy replied as patiently as she was able.

Joyce frowned. "That doesn't mean he couldn't join us," she replied. "I'm sure there's probably something that he likes."

"He likes blood," Buffy said, hoping that would end the conversation. At the same time, she had to wonder what Spike did like. Angel had given no indication of eating any sort of human food, but if there was one thing that Buffy knew for certain about Spike it was that he was nothing like Angel.

Maybe that's why it was easier to be around him in some ways—even though he was connected to Angel, thinking about one didn't connect her to memories of the other in her mind. These days, thinking about anyone or anything reminded her of Angel—how he'd killed Willow's fish, Xander's constant I-told-you-so's, Cordelia's insistance on uninviting him from her car, Giles and his burning baseball bat, her mother's face when he told her—

The list went on and on, but with Spike there was none of that. No memories, just the weird knowledge that he was there to watch her back.

And she still knew next to nothing about him.

"Maybe we could have him over," Buffy said. "I'll ask him what he likes tomorrow night."

Joyce smiled at her. "Good. I'm sure he must be lonely, being new in town. I remember how difficult it was for me to settle in."

Buffy opened her mouth to tell her mother that it wasn't the same for vampires, and then she stopped. She didn't know that for certain either.

These days, the Slayer wasn't sure of anything.

~~~~~

Spike had promised to drop by, and he figured it was time to keep his promise. The Watcher opened his door slowly, then stepped aside to allow him to enter. "Spike."

"Watcher." Spike stood just inside, waiting for an invitation to take a seat.

Giles was still watching him. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Spike shrugged. "You could offer me a drink."

In spite of himself, Giles found a smile forming. "Of course. Please, sit down." He peered a little more closely at the vampire. "You look like you've been busy," Giles commented, referring to the bruise lining his jaw.

Taking the drink Giles had prepared, Spike took a seat on his couch. "Just a little sparring session with your Slayer. The girl has quite a punch."

"You fought with her?" Giles asked, anger coloring his tone.

"She started it," Spike said evenly, his lips quirking with quick humor. "It was just a sparring session, Watcher. She wasn't hurt, and I walked her home after."

Giles' curiosity got the better of him. "What did you think?"

"She's good," Spike replied. "There's room for improvement, of course, but she's got a lot of power."

"Can I ask why you were fighting?"

Spike grinned. "She said I was being 'insufferable,' and then she hit me." He was suddenly completely serious. "I'll take a lot, Watcher, but I'm no doormat."

"No," Giles agreed. "I wouldn't think so." He sighed. "She's taking Angel's death hard."

"First love," Spike said, and sympathy laced his voice. "We all mourn in our own fashion, Watcher."

"I take it you found a place," Giles said, not knowing how to respond to Spike's assessment of Buffy's mood. Not that he disagreed with the vampire, but he had his own grief that he had no desire to dip into.

Spike shrugged. "It's not bad. A townhouse not too far from here, and it's got a garage. I needed somewhere to put my girl."

Somehow Giles knew that Spike was referring to his car. "So you're really staying?"

"I am," Spike replied easily. "It's been a long time since I've had a chance to stay in one place for a bit. Might be a nice change."

"How long have you been traveling?"

"Since I was turned," Spike replied, throwing back the rest of his drink and getting to his feet. He felt the sudden need to leave, knowing that the Watcher was going to start probing in areas Spike preferred to let be. "I should be going."

"Wait, Spike," Giles said. "You've really given me very little information about what's to come."

"You know as much as I do," Spike responded gruffly. "Told you, there was supposed to be a souled vampire on hand. Angelus didn't work out, so I got called up."

Giles had no idea why he did it, but his voice was soft as he said, "Or maybe you were the one who was needed now, and not Angel."

"We'll never know, will we?" Spike asked. "Look, Rupert, I'm here. That's all that really matters."

The vampire was gone in the next moment, leaving Giles to his own thoughts. He'd been doing his own research into William the Bloody over the last week and had made some interesting discoveries. Although the Council had often dismissed the stories about the mercenary vampire with a penchant for rescuing innocents as a figment of the imagination, Giles was now certain that some of the stories were true.

Perhaps all of them were, which would indicate that Spike was even more of an enigma than he'd thought. After all, both souled vampires had seemed to disappear into history, but in very different ways. There was no word about Angelus, but William the Bloody had become larger than life.

If Spike was telling the truth, and he had been recruited as a substitute for Angel, Giles had to wonder why Angel would have been called upon first. Especially since Spike's soul was apparently anchored.

Giles turned back to his books thoughtfully. He would need to go through the Watchers' diaries again. Surely there would be some mention of Spike. Giles was insanely curious as to why two vampires, both cursed, would react in such different ways.

It was a mystery, and it promised to occupy his time admirably.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,/And sorry I could not travel both/And be one traveler, long I stood/And looked down one as far as I could/To where it bent in the undergrowth...I shall be telling this with a sigh/Somewhere ages and ages hence:/Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—/I took the one less traveled by,/And that has made all the difference." ~Robert Frost, "The Road Less Traveled"

Willow had been spending the bulk of her time with Oz over the last week. Although she'd have loved to sit down with Buffy and indulge in some girl-talk, the Slayer hadn't been around much. Even when Buffy was there, she'd been quiet, uncommunicative, and often bitchy.

Willow was trying to be understanding, but the end result was that Oz was becoming more of her best friend than Buffy. Oz was sweet and understanding and solid.

They were out walking one evening, without giving a lot of thought to what might be lurking in the shadows when they found themselves faced with a couple of vampires. Oz put himself in front of her immediately, and they both pulled out stakes, but Willow was more than a little nervous.

She fumbled in her purse for a cross, hoping that the vampires would realize that they weren't going to be an easy meal and leave. Before she could find it, however, one of the vampires disintegrated. Oz stepped forward to stake the second, taking advantage of its momentary surprise. Willow heaved a sigh of relief as she recognized their rescuer. "Oh, hey, Spike."

She saw a flash of surprise cross his face. Willow wondered what it was about kindness that he found so shocking. "What are you two doing out after dark?" he asked. "It's not very safe."

Spike almost looked like he was going to argue with that, and then he closed his mouth with a snap. "Might be wise to stay in after dark for a while," he advised. "We still haven't tracked down all Angelus' minions."

"We're used to dealing with vampires," Willow replied. "It's not like you can really avoid them in Sunnydale."

Spike shrugged and turned to leave, apparently feeling that his work was done. "Hey, Spike! Did you find a place to stay?"

The vampire turned back, still with that same expression of surprise. "Yeah, actually. Meant to thank you for the reference."

"Where is it?" Willow asked. She asked the question because it seemed polite and because Spike pricked her curiosity. "I mean, I was just wondering if you found something that worked for you."

"Suits me fine, ducks," Spike replied. Giving them an almost hesitant smile, he asked, "Do you want to see it?"

"He was having trouble unloading it," Oz replied. "People don't seem to be moving to Sunnydale all that often these days."

Willow frowned. "I don't see why not." She stopped. "Except for the whole death-rate thing. That's pretty bad."

"There was a death in that house," Oz explained. "Bad enough to move to Sunnydale, but no one wants to buy a house where there's been a murder."

Willow was thinking that over. "Wow, so you really bought a house? You must be planning on staying for a while."

"The apocalypse could happen tomorrow, though," Willow argued. "I mean, not like I want it to, or like I want you to leave, because I don't. You seem really nice, so I'm glad you're staying, and you probably saved our lives, so—"

"Will," Oz said softly, breaking into her nervous rambling. Spike's lips twitched in amusement as he watched the girl blush.

Now Spike did laugh. "No harm done, pet. To answer your question, though, I'm a bit tired of moving around. It'll be right nice to have a place to settle for a while."

"That's good," Willow said, meaning it. It wasn't just that Spike was helpful, but she'd enjoyed his company when he'd gone with them to the Bronze. Not that Willow was attracted—Oz was quite enough for her—but he was nice, even if he didn't seem to know what to do with them sometimes.

They were standing outside in front of his townhouse, and Spike hesitated. It had been a long time since he'd had a place to call his own, longer still since there had been anyone to show it off to.

Spike had been very careful about his acquaintances over the last century. They were mostly business contacts, with the occasional one-night stand. There had been a few people he might have called friends, if he hadn't been constantly on the move.

"Come in," he finally said, unlocking the door and allowing them to enter first.

Willow wasn't sure what she had expected, but it was all very oridinary. Lots of leather, maybe, but that wasn't surprising. The furnishings were all in darker colors, but it wasn't oppressive. "This is nice, Spike."

"And a study," Spike said. "I don't need that much space, but it could come in handy. The garage was a big plus."

Oz looked about as interested as he ever did. "I heard about that car, man. You mind?"

In two seconds, both men had pretty much devolved to the same level as far as Willow could tell. She never could understand what it was with men and cars. Seriously, what was the big deal?

Willow wandered after them, watching as Spike excitedly related engine details. He might as well have been speaking a foreign language, but it made him seem more real at the same time.

She perked up when Spike said, "Yeah, I'm meeting her at the Bronze tomorrow night. Hopefully she'll accept a truce."

"Who? Buffy?" Willow asked. "When did you see her? She hasn't been around all week."

Spike glanced up, shrugging. "Ran into her while she was patrolling. We got into it, and then we called a draw."

"I wasn't trying to do her any harm," Spike was quick to assure her. "It was sparring, really, although I was relieved she didn't have a stake in hand."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, but I'm not going to stand there and take her punching me in the nose, am I?"

"Well, with Angel and having to kill him and everything she wouldn't be," Willow said, quick to defend her friend. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Buffy just needs time and understanding. Not fighting," she added, glaring at Spike as sternly as she could manage.

"And sometimes a person needs to work off a little steam," Spike shot back. "Probably won't happen again, though. Slayer was downright friendly when I left tonight."

Willow nodded. "See that it doesn't. Buffy has to fight enough people. She doesn't need to be fighting her friends too."

Willow thought about arguing with him and then decided to back off. She got the feeling that Spike would insist very loudly that he didn't have friends, even if he did. The vampire acted like a tough guy, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was pretty much like everybody else under the surface.

Spike arrived at the Bronze early, more out of force of habit than from any real desire not to keep the Slayer waiting. The visit to the Watcher and then the run-in with the Slayer's friends had proven interesting. He still wasn't quite sure how to take their kindness. What did a bloke do with people like that?

It had been years since Spike had cared how others saw him, but he was beginning too. Not much, mind. Not really. Just enough to return kindness with kindness. That wasn't so much, nor was it difficult.

He took a seat at a table with a good view of the door, tapping a staccato rhythm with thumb and fingers. Spike was, if he had to be quite honest, just a little nervous.

It wasn't that he had any feelings for the Slayer. If he cared at all it was because he'd been paid to do so. Granted, there was some slight sympathy towards her because she'd had Angelus to deal with and she'd lost her first love. He understood that sort of pain, and he could empathize.

No, what Spike was nervous about was the fact that she was going to ask questions that reconnected him to memories he'd longed to forget. Spike had no desire to bare his soul for her, but he'd recognized a stubbornness in the bint that would make evasion difficult.

Spike had also recognized a kind of heartlessness in her. If he pissed Buffy off enough, she'd use whatever emotional ammunition he gave her to flay him verbally. It would be a careful line to walk to give her enough information to make her understand, and yet not so much that she could use it against him.

He looked up to see her standing in front of him. Her face was closed off again, and Spike knew that this evening was probably going to be less than pleasant. "Slayer."

"Not the way it works, pet," Spike said evenly. "You don't get my entire life story. What you get are answers to your questions if I feel like giving them."

"What, like you're worried what I think about you?" Buffy scoffed. "Please, Spike, you're a vampire. The news couldn't get much worse."

"Not everything's about you, Summers," Spike spat back at her. "Sometimes it's about me not caring to share. Ever think of my tender feelings?"

His tone was mocking, but the words were real enough, and Buffy could see their echo in his eyes. Spike was keeping her at arm's length, which was fine. It wasn't like she wanted to get all that close to him herself. "Fine. What was between you and Angel? Why would you even agree to come here? And what was all that stuff about him torturing you?"

Spike managed to shrug nonchalantly. "Angelus was my sire's sire," he replied. "Meaning he made Dru, and then Dru made me."

"And I was his worst," Spike murmured. "The gypsies made a mistake, Slayer. They wanted revenge for the death of one of their own, and they got the wrong guy for the crime. If I'd been thinking straight, I'd have run as fast as I could for the other side of the world. As it was, once they'd cursed me, I went straight back to Dru."

"Angelus knew what had happened, knew I'd basically taken his place, and instead of sending me on my merry way, he got out the chains. I won't go into details, but it wasn't pretty."

Buffy was still trying to figure out what he meant. "That's what you meant by torture."

"That's right. Three bloody years of it. And I think that answers just about all your questions." His voice was tight, and Buffy realized that she was probing old wounds that were probably still raw.

"I still don't see why he wouldn't have at least mentioned the fact that there was another vampire with a soul," Buffy objected. "How do we even know for sure that you have one?"

Spike smirked. "The fact that your throat is still intact is probably a pretty good indication," he replied. "What? Did you expect Angel to confess his sins to you one by one? Let me guess, you found out about Dru after she showed up, and then you had to force it out of him." The expression on the Slayer's face was confirmation enough. "There you go. Why would he tell the girl he loved that he'd done unspeakable things to a person in his same shoes?"

"Was he ever?" Spike asked. "Look, Slayer, I get that you were in love with him, but you won't catch me singing his praises. I'm sorry for you, but I'm not sorry he's dead, and now you know why. I've wished him dust for a hundred years. It's a little hard to change old habits now."

Buffy wanted to strike out at him, but she couldn't. Angel had hurt him. It would be like getting mad at Giles for hating Angelus. Even though she wanted to, she couldn't.

"Mom wants to invite you for dinner some night," Buffy said, changing the subject.

"She wants to invite you for dinner," she repeated. "She said it was because you were new in town, and she knew how hard that could be. You really don't have to come, though."

Spike shook his head wonderingly. "Your mum is really something, you know?" He laughed. "Tell her I'd be happy to accept her invitation." He grabbed one of the cocktail napkins on the table and scribbled down a number. "Give me a call and let me know when. Or if you need a hand. I'll be around, but you can reach me there if you like."

Wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, Spike moved away from the table, losing himself in the crowd and exiting out the back. He thought he'd done fairly well, had avoided handing her more ammunition to use against him. The Slayer didn't trust him yet, and probably never would. Angel was still a paragon of virtue in her eyes, and would probably only become more so as the days and weeks passed by.

It was always like that with the dead. It became easier to hold an idealized view of them, even though it wasn't accurate.

Buffy was young. It would be easier still to place Angel on a pedestal reserved for first loves who suffer tragic fates.

Still, his job wasn't to like her, it was to keep her safe. He'd proven a number of times that he could do just that, no matter what his personal feelings on the matter might be.

Even though she'd tried very hard to discourage it, Joyce had insisted on having Spike over for dinner, and had actually gone to the trouble to procure blood. Buffy had expected him to be just as annoying with her mom as he was with everyone else. With dinner out of the way, Joyce would never have him over again, and that would be that.

She couldn't deny that Spike was really nice to her mom, going so far as to pull her chair out for her at dinner. Not that he did anything of the sort for her. Spike even ate her mom's food and complimented her on her cooking.

Spike told stories about being in Africa, after Joyce mentioned that she was thinking about displaying tribal art in the next showing. He even, if Buffy wasn't reading the signals wrong, flirted with her mother, and Joyce preened under the attention.

In the end, Buffy finally decided that she'd had enough. Announcing that she needed to patrol, she got up from the table.

Spike gave her a sharp look, his head slightly tilted. Buffy was certain that he was looking right down into her soul. "Alright," he said finally. "I don't mind staying. I'm sure you can handle yourself."

Buffy knew that was probably meant to be a subtle dig, so she just gave them both a tight smile and walked out of the house.

She really, really didn't like Spike, Buffy decided. Actually, she resented the hell out of him. What gave the Powers the right to take Angel and replace him with Spike? If they could do that, then why the hell couldn't they have made Angel's soul secure or something?

It wasn't fair. She had to kill the man she loved, and Spike got everything he wanted. Spike wanted revenge, and he got it, at the price of her happiness.

Buffy, of course, was conveniently forgetting that she was the one who had staked Angel.

Her eyes narrowing, Buffy made a resolution. Spike might be there to help her. Her Watcher, her mom, even her friends might like him, but she didn't want him around. The less she had to see him, the better.

In fact, if she could get Spike to leave town altogether, that might just be best. After all, when hadn't she been able to handle an apocalypse on her own?

"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,/Tears from the depth of some devine despair/Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,/In looking on the happy autumn-fields,/ And thinking of the days that are no more...Dear as remembered kisses after death,/And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned/On lips that are for others; deepest love,/Deep as first love and wild with all regret;/O Death in Life, the days that are no more!" ~Alfred Lord Tennyson, "Tears, Idle Tears"

Joyce was a little surprised when she opened the back door to find Spike on the other side. The soft tapping that had alerted her to his presence seemed—out of character. She'd thought he was more of a front door kind of man, the kind who would ring the doorbell.

Then again, what did she know? Until Giles had filled her in, she hadn't even been aware that Spike was a vampire.

Joyce shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. You've just missed her. I think she was planning on going to the Bronze with the others. You could probably catch her there if you wanted to."

"No, that's alright," Spike replied. The tentative truce he and Buffy had reached was holding, but only because she was doing her best to avoid him. The Slayer seemed intent on demonstrating that she could get by quite well without his presence.

His feelings weren't all that hurt. Spike was getting paid to keep her safe, not to be her friend. And his word was gold. No matter how many temper tantrums Buffy threw, he wasn't going anywhere.

Still, he thought it was only polite to let her know he'd taken care of the demons Giles had warned them about at their last meeting. Otherwise, she'd be spending the bulk of her evening wandering around and accomplishing nothing.

"Do you want to come in?" Joyce asked. "I could make us a drink. Tea? Or hot chocolate?"

Spike hesitated. He liked Joyce. She was a sight more pleasant to be around than most of the people he'd encountered over the years. "You have any of those little marshmallows?"

"I can check." She opened the door wide in a silent invitation. Spike ducked inside, going to sit at the counter. "What are you up to tonight?"

Spike shrugged. "The usual. Wandering about, killing demons, that sort of thing."

"What about you? How are you coping with finding out about Buffy and everything?"

Joyce moved her shoulders, as though trying to adjust some great burden. "It hasn't been easy," she admitted in a low voice. "I'm always wondering when she leaves—" She stopped, unwilling to give voice to her concerns.

"Buffy's good, you know," Spike said, his tone conversational. "And she's got me, for what it's worth."

"Why?" Joyce asked bluntly. "I mean, I know that Buffy and Mr. Giles said that you have a soul, but I don't understand." In an undertone, she added, "No one ever explains anything to me."

Spike chuckled slightly. "You're getting left out of the loop, I take it." He watched her for a moment, not realizing that he'd completely let his guard down. Joyce met his eyes, a blue so clear she thought she could see the soul everyone had talked about.

Perhaps that was what drew her to this vampire. Angel's eyes had been secretive, closed. Joyce hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of the man underneath, and that had ignited danger signals her maternal instinct could not ignore. There was nothing fake about Spike, on the other hand. Nothing unreal.

"I am," Joyce replied. "I know Buffy thinks she's doing it for my own good, but it doesn't prevent me from worrying about her."

Spike sighed, considering how to answer her question. "I don't rightly know, to be honest. I guess the soul is a little like a leash. It doesn't completely keep a person under control, but most of the time it does. A vampire's a creature that's slipped its leash. If you put it back on—well, the shock does something to the system."

No one had ever asked that question. Spike wondered if Joyce knew what those words did for him, what they loosed inside. "Yeah. It was bad."

Joyce was a mother, first and foremost, and she knew a closed subject when she found one. Spike's eyes had gone blank with old memories, and she thought she knew the look he had on his face. It was one she'd seen in the mirror on occasion when she'd been thinking about the divorce, or about some other event better left in the past.

There were truths you didn't tell strangers, and so she asked no more questions.

"You know," she began, wondering if she wasn't just a little crazy for making the suggestion, "I was thinking about watching a movie tonight. Do you want to join me?"

Spike opened his mouth to say no, and then he closed it again. For the first time in a while, he felt safe—relaxed. He was in the company of a beautiful, gracious woman. There was no reason to hurry off. "That sounds right nice, Mrs. Summers. Thanks."

"Call me Joyce," she replied, relishing the idea of having company for the evening. Even if it was the company of a vampire.

Buffy thought she was doing pretty good, overall. Maybe she hadn't been all fun and games the last few weeks, but she was trying to get back in the swing of things. She'd slayed, she'd gone to the Bronze with her friends, and she had avoided social activities with the undead. It was just what she needed to get her life back on track.

After all, it was summer. She was supposed to be relaxing; it was her job. It was about time she got to it.

"It's too bad Spike couldn't make it tonight," Willow commented idly. She would have been dancing, except that Oz's band was playing, and Buffy didn't seem inclined to grace the dance floor. There was no way she was going to do her impression of a third wheel with Xander and Cordelia.

Buffy's head shot up at the mention of Spike's name. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her tone sharp.

"No, I'm sorry, Wills," Buffy said, making an effort to soften her tone. "It's just—I wasn't sure what you meant. Did you invite him tonight?"

Willow shook her head. "Not exactly. I just told him at the Scooby meeting that we'd be here. I thought maybe he would come."

That was the one blot on an otherwise decent summer. Spike had begun inviting himself to their meetings, insinuating himself into the group. Buffy was trying to forget about his existence and he kept spoiling her plans by showing up. It really wasn't fair.

Willow shrugged. "Why not? He saved our lives, and he's pretty nice. You should give him a chance, Buffy."

"He's a vampire, Willow," Buffy reminded her. "The last time I gave a vampire a chance, badness ensued."

"I'm not saying sleep with him." Willow made a face. "It's just that it wouldn't hurt you to be polite. Spike doesn't have any other friends."

"Spike is a card-carrying member of the undead." Buffy was trying to be patient, but it was getting hard. "Undead people don't have friends. They have drinking buddies."

"If you say so," Willow replied, knowing a losing battle when she was right in the middle of one. Even Xander wasn't all that rabidly anti-Spike. Giles, after a lot of prodding, had told them a couple of the stories he'd heard as a Watcher, and Xander had later asked Spike point-blank if they were true.

Spike had shrugged. "Wasn't a big deal at the time," he'd insisted. "I was leaving the country anyway, and I knew a few of the back routes."

"But then you went back!" Xander had protested, finding the flaw in that argument.

Spike had just smiled slightly. "Sure, but they were paying me, weren't they? It's not hard to be a hero when folks are lining up to give you money."

Of course, he'd been paid in Riechsmarks, which weren't worth the paper they were printed on outside of Nazi Germany. That's what Giles had said. That's what made the Council think that they were just tall tales.

A mercenary vampire was one thing, but one who took worthless money in exchange for saving lives? It wasn't to be believed.

Willow wished Spike was just a little more forthcoming. He'd seen and done so much, she wanted to ask him all about it.

"I don't get why everybody likes him so much," Buffy muttered. "You guys weren't that impressed with Angel."

"Angel was different," Willow responded, knowing that it wasn't much of an answer. She could understand why Buffy had such a difficult time liking Spike. The vampire had a tendecy to poke fun at her anytime he was in her vicinity. Buffy, of course, jibed back with an intensity that startled Willow at times.

Willow wondered briefly if Spike or Buffy realized that the tension running between them could easily turn into something else. Not that Willow was in a hurry to encourage any sort of romantic liasons. She had done that with Buffy and Angel, and look how that had turned out.

Still, it was an interesting thought, even if she'd never mention the prospect out loud.

"I'm going to patrol," Buffy announced abruptly, pushing back from the table. "I'll see you later."

Willow watched her go, wondering if things would ever be the same again. It felt as though Angel's ghost was a constant presence.

The dreams weren't helping matters any. They wouldn't leave her alone, and she was as terrified of them stopping as she was of them continuing. Seeing Angel every night kept the pain fresh, but she didn't want to forget him.

There was no grave she could visit, so she went to the mansion. Its monolithic bulk seemed out of place in a town like Sunnydale—too big, too modern, and too archaic. Perhaps in a few months or a few years people would talk about it being haunted. Teenagers would dare one another to come after dark.

There was no trace of Angel's ashes. She hadn't been thinking clearly enough to gather them up herself. Idly, she wondered if Spike had done it for some reason known only to himself.

The Slayer lowered herself to the floor and went over the fight again in her mind. No matter how many times she thought about it, no matter how many times she went over the details again, Buffy couldn't make herself believe that she could have acted any differently.

She hated herself as much for that as for not saving Angel. Buffy wanted to blame herself; she wanted to point out a specific moment in time and say, "There. That's what I might have done differently."

She was too good a warrior for that, however. Buffy had done her best, and it hadn't been good enough.

Swiping a hand across her cheeks to get rid of any tear tracks, Buffy stood to go. There was no use in coming here anymore. Her time would be better served in hunting down the remaining demons and vampires in Sunnydale.

If Buffy was very lucky, she would run into Spike and manage to goad him into a fight. Sparring with him would be just what she needed to clear her head.

Spike whistled softly, the tune so soft as to be nearly indecipherable. An astute listener, had they been close enough, might have recognized the Ramones' "Do You Wanna Dance?"

There was no one nearby, though. Really, Spike preferred it that way. At least, that's what he usually tried to convince himself of. Once, a long time ago, he had thought differently.

Spike had learned the hard way that even the bonds of blood did not prevent betrayal.

Occasionally, over the years, there had been chances at friendships, but they didn't last. He was immortal, and he had no desire to consort with others of his kind. Demons, as a rule, didn't like vampires. They regarded them as second-class citizens, and his soul put him on the lowest rung of the ladder.

Spike was neither fish nor fowl—unwelcome among demons, regarded with distaste by other vampires, looked upon with fear and awe by humans.

And yet, for the first time since he'd been cursed, Spike didn't feel that tension.

The sour tone jolted him out of his pleasant thoughts, and he glanced over to see the Slayer glaring at him. "It's a beautiful evening, Slayer. Why shouldn't I be happy?" He could, on closer inspection, see the faint traces of tears on her cheeks. Spike could understand why she'd be so put out on seeing another person's happiness.

Apparently, Buffy's frame of mind was such that she wasn't going to let him go. "So where have you been? Painting the town red?"

"Matter of fact, I was with your mum," Spike replied cheerfully enough. The Slayer seemed to want a fight tonight. Spike was feeling good enough to oblige her.

"Went to see you, and you weren't there," Spike said, looking off to the side, pretending to be distracted. "I thought I'd let you know I took care of those demons your Watcher was going on about."

Spike raised an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. "You put your name on them then?"

"Giles told me about the demons, Spike. It was my job to take them out." Buffy was seriously pissed off at this point, although she couldn't have pinpointed the exact reason. It wasn't like she didn't appreciate the help. It wasn't even that Spike had taken the matter out of her hands.

"I thought I'd save you the trouble," Spike said, knowing that his insolent tone would just serve to anger her further. "Give you a chance to find a bloke to ease off some of that tension."

He didn't get a chance to finish that thought because Buffy was after him immediately. From the expression on her face—half fury, half exultation—Spike figured he'd managed to give her exactly what she needed.

Spike, in turn, got to spar with the Slayer again. He would have to make sure they made this a regular tradition.

Of course, if Buffy actually carried out her threat to stake him, he'd never get that chance.

The Slayer managed to get past his guard somehow and they both hit the ground. She wound up straddling his waist, a stake poised above his heart. "You gonna do it, then?"

Spike waited, watching her carefully, wondering if she'd carry out her unspoken threat. If he had to dust, he thought he'd rather it be at her hands. She was a worthy opponent, even if they were supposed to be on the same side.

"No." Buffy wasn't sure why she didn't stake him. She could have and then just pretended to be surprised at his disappearance.

"You don't get to practice on a real vampire, right?" Spike replied. "Why not spar with me? It would help both of us."

"Well, of course not tonight." Spike's tone told her he thought she was being stupid again. He sounded like that a lot. "I just meant for the future."

Buffy rounded on him. "Why won't you just go?" she demanded. "Just leave me the hell alone! You know I don't want you here. Why should making sure I survive matter so much to you?"

It was impossible to mistake the compassion in his eyes for anything else. Buffy didn't understand it, and that angered her. Angel, even when he was playing cryptic-guy, hadn't looked at her like that.

"You think you're the only one that's ever loved and lost," Spike said quietly. "I know you'll probably hate me for saying this, but you're young, Buffy. You don't think you'll get past this because you never have before."

"Don't I?" Spike asked. "In a hundred-odd years I've loved exactly three women. All three of them are dead now. I think that gives me some knowledge on the subject."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. She didn't want to believe him. She didn't want to let his words penetrate to the heart of things. "What three women? Drusilla?"

"That's one." Spike regarded her from a long moment, his eyes suddenly opaque. Buffy couldn't read the expression on his face. "My mum and a girl named Cecily make three."

Buffy had the brief urge to tease him for including his mother on a list with his lovers, but something held her back. "What happened to them?"

"It doesn't matter," Spike said brusquely. He had no intentions of ever telling the Slayer about his mother, or Cecily.

She considered arguing, and then shook her head, as though ridding herself of the questions. "How long did it take you?"

Spike was startled by the question, although he supposed he probably shouldn't have been. "I don't know. She...by the time she was done with me, I couldn't love her anymore."

It was the most open thing he'd said to her, and Buffy could suddenly understand why the others might like him. Moments like this, it wasn't all that hard.

Something rather amazing began in that moment, although neither one of them was quite aware of it. All they knew was that it felt right.

"The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness/Ready and poised to wax or wane;/A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,/Tending to pleasure or to pain:—/Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness/To perfect loss or perfect gain./Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;/This world is all on wax, on wane:/When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,/Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?—/Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness/ To finished loss or finished gain." ~Christina Rossetti, "The Half Moon"

The rest of the summer passed in much the same way, Spike and Buffy fighting each other as often as they dusted vampires and slayed demons. There was no mistaking it for anything other than sparring after that night, however. This time, their truce was unspoken, but it held.

Of course, that didn't stop Spike from winding Buffy up on a regular basis, and vice versa. It took Buffy a little longer to figure out what would get under Spike's skin, but she soon found that the best way to go about it was to insult his car, his intelligence, or—if she was feeling really nasty—his prowess. If she could make the insult into a double entendre, all the better.

In spite of the constant sniping, or maybe because of it, they fought with remarkable accord, their movements almost synchronized.

Giles went out with them one evening, and he was convinced that their verbal sparring threw off their opponents long enough to make them easy targets.

Buffy, of course, responded that they were thrown off by Spike's hair, since it glowed in the dark. Spike suggested that it was her shoes, since no normal person could fight in three-inch heels.

What Buffy didn't know—or chose not to notice—was that Spike was constantly over at her house, even when she wasn't home. Joyce still called him "that polite young man," despite knowing exactly what he was. Giles was even more entranced than ever after spending an evening plying Spike with expensive alcohol. It took a lot to loosen the vampire's tongue, but he'd given the Watcher enough pieces that Giles could start putting together the puzzle.

Buffy could honestly say she didn't care. Spike was nice to spar with, he could be trusted to look after himself on patrol, and he wasn't hard on the eyes. More than that, she didn't need to know.

Nothing much changed when school started. Snyder went around in a perpetually bad mood since he hadn't been able to expell her, and Buffy had to work slaying around homework—well, the other way around, actually—but it wasn't anything she hadn't done before.

Of course, this year Joyce was aware of her extracurricular activities, and Buffy found that rather soothing. Her mom was definitely more understanding.

Still, it was the same thing all over again. Her grief over Angel was easing, there was a new guy on the horizon, and there was trouble heading her way.

Spike had been hearing the rumors for a while now. While he was tempted to do some investigating, he also had no desire to draw attention to himself. Spike wasn't afraid, of course, but there were some kinds of trouble a guy didn't need, especially if he had plans to stick around.

On nights when he went information-hunting, rather than demon-hunting, one name kept coming up over and over again. Mr. Trick was apparently a high-stakes player in Sunnydale, and Spike kept hearing that you didn't get on the man's bad side.

More disturbing than rumors of a master vampire setting up shop, were the faint suggestions that there was a bigger player than that. Someone so dangerous that not even his name was spoken aloud.

Master vampires were a dime a dozen, after all, and Spike had taken out his fair share. This new, mysterious player—that bothered him. He kept his mouth shut about it, though. There was no point in worrying the Slayer when they couldn't do anything about it.

Over the course of the summer, Spike had developed a proprietary interest in Buffy, something that went beyond services rendered for payment. Partly it had to do with the fact that he really liked Joyce, and he would hate to see her hurt—which she would be if something happened to her daughter.

Partly it was the fact that her Watcher treated him like a man—like a colleague. Spike had basically taken over most of the physical duties that went into training a Slayer, and Giles seemed to think that they were in it together. Again, if something happened to Buffy, the Watcher would be devastated.

What it really boiled down to, however, was the fact that Spike was beginning to regard Buffy as his Slayer.

The evening trouble rode into town, they were all at the Bronze. Spike had thought about joining them, but the last few times he'd been around the Slayer and her friends, she and Willow had been nattering on about some guy. He had sensed Buffy's hesitation, and he understood it. Angel had left her badly scarred.

Still, Spike knew that the best way for the Slayer to get over Angel was to figure out that he wasn't the only man in the world. He knew it, but that didn't mean he had to like sitting around listening to them talk about the git.

He thought about finding the Watcher and having a drink, and then he frowned, uneasiness washing over him.

The next night found Spike at Giles' flat. He had wanted to discuss some of his impressions with the Watcher, and was more than a little surprised at the first question out of Giles' mouth. "Have you met the new Slayer?"

"New Slayer?" Spike asked, both eyebrows going up. "What are you talking about?"

"I wasn't around last night," Spike replied. "I was doing some info-hunting. That's why I'm here—to share information."

"Oh," Giles sat, offering Spike a glass. "The new Slayer, Faith, showed up at the Bronze last night while Buffy and the others were there. I hadn't realized you didn't know."

Spike shrugged. "Didn't figure I needed to be there to watch the Slayer and her cronies giggle over the new bloke." At Giles' blank look, Spike added, "Who happens to be perfectly human."

The Watcher shook his head, deciding that piece of information wasn't something he needed. "Yes, apparently Faith was called after Kendra died. I hadn't realized that the line would no longer pass on with Buffy."

"Unless it's split into two lines," Spike argued. "It could be. We don't know that."

Spike's hard tone surprised Giles, but he didn't make a big deal about it. He had seen absolutely no signs of romantic affection between his Slayer and the vampire, which he found reassuring. As much as he liked and admired Spike, he had no desire to see Buffy involved with another vampire.

"That makes two of us then," Giles replied. "Still, you might want to look out for this new Slayer as well. She will be quite a bit of help to Buffy. It will be nice for her to have some of the pressure from slaying taken off."

Spike, who had come to understand Buffy quite well over the last few months, wasn't nearly so sure about that. Besides, he knew all about rivalries. Before he'd been cursed, his relationship with Angel had been complicated—filled with love and hate in equal measure.

Well, a certain kind of love, anyway. Perhaps "grudging affection" would be a better term.

"We'll see," Spike replied. "I'll keep an eye out for her anyway, same as I'm doing for Buffy."

Spike shook his head. "Not as such, no. It's more like I've heard rumors and I've got a feeling. I keep hearing about a Mr. Trick, but I think he might be the least of our worries."

"That's about it," Spike admitted reluctantly. "I've kept my head down, but the demon world knows me, Watcher. It's not like they'll sit down and tell me what I want to know. Whatever is going on, no one's talking about it."

Giles sighed. "Keep your ears open," he instructed. "You still have a better chance at gathering information than any of the rest of us."

"Will do." Spike finished off his drink. "You want me to catch up with the Slayers tonight?"

"In light of what you've just shared, yes," Giles replied. "They're investigating some disappearances in the Sunset Ridge area. You'll probably find them there."

Some unknown emotion flashed in the vampire's eyes, and then the veil fell again. "Yeah."

Buffy wasn't sure if she appreciated the vampires interrupting her spat with Faith or not. On the one hand, it was probably better that they hadn't started going after each other. At the same time, however, she had wanted to have it out.

She was absurdly grateful that Spike hadn't been at the Bronze the previous night. Buffy had the feeling that Spike and Faith would get along marvellously, and she'd be on the outside yet again.

The fact that she understood why everybody liked Faith—she was fun, she was outspoken, she embraced life and Slaying—didn't make it any easier to swallow. Buffy knew she'd been kind of a drag over the summer; her friends didn't have to go rubbing her nose in it.

She'd had to kill her boyfriend. Buffy thought that should entitle her to a little wallowing.

When Faith managed to charm the guy who'd been coming onto her—well, that was just the last straw right there. What Buffy needed was to ditch the other Slayer and find Spike. If she could keep him away from Faith, that would be even better.

Faith was sticking to her like a limpet, however, and so Buffy didn't have a chance to get away. The vampires seemed to come out of nowhere, and there were enough of them that it had her worried.

She was a little more worried when Faith started beating up one of the vampires, leaving Buffy at the mercy of the other two. "Faith! A little help here!"

Faith either ignored her or didn't hear her, and Buffy stretched, trying to reach the two by four. She felt a thrill of fear when she realized it was just beyond her fingertips. Buffy turned her attention to the vampire holding her down, trying to remove herself from its grip.

The next thing she knew, the first vampire holding her down was dust. Buffy quickly broke the hold of the second, rolling six inches over, grabbing the two by four, and staking the last remaining vampire.

She turned just in time to see Faith attack Spike. He'd pulled her off the vampire she'd been beating to a pulp, and the second Slayer was reacting badly. Faith was wild—totally insensible to his attempts to reassure her.

Buffy realized that Faith was going to use the stake she held, and Spike was hampered by his desire not to hurt her. She drove a stake through the heart of the last vampire and then pulled Faith away from Spike by the back of her jacket.

Buffy dropped her stake and grabbed Faith's arm. "He's got a soul. Spike saved my life. You leave him a alone."

Faith stopped moving, staring at Spike with unconcealed suspicion. "He looks undead to me."

"Yeah, well, it's a long story I don't have time to tell," Spike replied, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. Faith had gotten more than one hit through his defenses.

"What is wrong with you?" Buffy demanded, now that it looked as though Spike was safe from the other Slayer.

"You!" Buffy shot back. "Beating that vampire to a bloody pulp while I'm about to die. If Spike hadn't come along—"

"Funny, I thought beating on vamps was part of the job description," Faith replied, shooting Spike a dirty look. "Maybe you're in the wrong line of work."

Spike shrugged. "She's definitely got her issues, pet. Probably a good thing your Watcher sent me after you two tonight."

"Right," Buffy muttered. "Because now I have to share you too." At Spike's raised eyebrow, she exploded. No one else seemed to understand how she felt about Faith, but for some reason, Buffy thought that Spike, at least, wouldn't give her a speech about how she needed to be nice and share. "Everybody likes Faith. My friends think she's the coolest thing since sliced bread, the guy that likes me likes her better, even my mom and my Watcher think she's great. So what if I haven't been fun-Buffy? It's not like the last year has been all that wonderful. And now you and she will probably hit it off, and I'll have to hear how wonderful Faith is from one more person."

Spike listened to her entire rant without interrupting, his face expressionless. When Buffy finally wound down, he smiled. "Not gonna happen."

"You're my first priority, Buffy. I didn't get asked to help Faith, or your friends, or anybody else. I got asked to make sure you stayed alive." Spike shrugged. "You're the reason I'm in this town, and you're the reason I'm not going anywhere."

She blinked. Buffy knew Spike was getting paid for this, or at least that he had been paid. She knew that this was business. At the same time, he was so honest—and so dependable, she couldn't help but relax.

Spike was watching her back. Whatever remaining resentment she felt for him faded completely at that point.

Not that she'd be telling him that, of course. Fighting with him was too much fun.

Buffy gave him a grateful smile. Spike's lip was still bleeding a little, and she figured he'd gotten beaten on enough for the evening. "So what do you think the deal was?"

"What? With Faith?" Spike frowned and then shrugged. "Don't rightly know, pet. I'd say some kind of trauma. Where's her Watcher?"

"Somewhere on England on a retreat," Buffy replied. "Giles said he's never been invited on one. Faith told me she wanted to come out and meet me."

Spike considered that for a moment. "I don't know. She sounds like she's from out east. That's a long way to come just to meet the great Buffy."

He was teasing her, and Buffy punched him on the arm, much as she would have done with Xander. "Shut up." Spike just grinned. "Did you catch what the vampire on top of me was saying?"

She rolled her eyes. This was more like it. "It was a name of some sort. Like Kissing Toast."

It rang a bell, but Spike couldn't quite place it. "Dunno," he replied. "Might be the big player I've heard rumors of." He gave her a sharp look. "You'll be careful?"

"With you as my shadow, why would I need to be?" Buffy asked. He cocked his head. "Yes, I'll be careful."

Spike gave her a satisfied nod. "You do that. I'll meet you at your place tomorrow after sunset. I'd feel better if I patrol with you over the next few days, till we figure out what's going on."

"There's always something going on, Spike," Buffy replied. "We're on the Hellmouth."