It was amazing how much easier it was to get up in the mornings now that he knew that it was the chip’s fault he wasn’t walking yet. Perhaps it was because he’d never been very good at being patient, and waiting to heal required too much of it. Maybe it was because he had finally accepted that he wasn’t going to get any better and had made his peace with it. And maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was now his choice, not some freak accident. He had chosen not to get the chip out in order to stay with Buffy. It was up to him to live with it now.

He’d had a hard time sleeping, and had decided that getting up to see Dawn and Buffy off would be a better use of his time than just lying in bed and wishing he could get to sleep. So he pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a blue collared shirt. “Normal people clothes” was what the Niblet had called them. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress Buffy or anything, but there were days when it was nice to pretend to be something other than the Big Bad. And it didn’t hurt his feelings any when he caught her checking him out.

Spike entered the kitchen to find it empty. He checked the clock, figuring that Tara had already left for class, and the noises from upstairs told him Buffy was awake and probably getting cleaned up. But the Niblet—

“Hey,” she said, breezing into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “Running a bit late, aren’t we?”

She rolled her eyes at him and reached into the fridge for the juice. “I’m okay. I just forgot to set the alarm clock. Tara woke me up.”

“Better eat something,” he said. “Harris’ll be here any minute now.”

“And speak of the devil,” Xander said from the kitchen doorway. “You about ready, Dawnster?”

“I gotta grab my bag,” she replied. Spike stopped her before she could leave, handing her a package of pop tarts. “I’m not eating these, Spike. Do you know how many calories they have?”

“Then next time don’t forget to set the alarm,” he replied, not at all fazed. “You get up early enough, you can eat a healthy breakfast like you should anyway.” Spike shook his head as she flounced out of the kitchen.

“We still on for tonight?” Xander asked, walking out towards the front door with the vampire, while they waited for Dawn to be ready.

Spike pretended to think about it. “Well, I don’t know, Harris, what with my busy social calendar and all.” He smirked. “Yeah, we’re on. After I beat the socks off you, I’ll move on to bigger and better targets.”

Xander looked skeptical. “We’ll see. I’d like to see you win at pool while trying to balance on those things,” he said, pointing at the crutches.

The other man shrugged, levity gone. “Gotta try. Figure I could make some decent cash that way. Help the Slayer out a bit.”

To his credit, Xander had ceased to be surprised at Spike’s willingness to help Buffy, or even to question his motives. Finding out that the vampire had refused to even let her try to get the chip out had silenced him. Not that he was going to say anything nice about Spike, but he wasn’t going out of his way to be mean either. It had actually been his suggestion that they go to the Bronze and play pool, see if Spike could really hold his own before he put any money on it. Besides, Anya was beginning to drive him crazy with her wedding obsessions, and he was feeling the need for a little “guy-time” even if it was with Spike.

Dawn came down the stairs then with her bag, and Xander got ready to open the front door, Spike standing back to avoid getting singed. “You’ll come right home, Bit?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes again, but more because it was expected than because she was truly annoyed. “No, I’m going to go out and rob someone blind. Yes, I’ll be home. I’ve got that essay to work on, and you promised to help me.”

“I did at that.” Spike watched as Xander pulled open the front door to reveal a short, slightly plump, middle-aged woman. “Can I help you?” he asked uncertainly.

She looked from him to Dawn to Xander and back to Dawn. “I take it you’re Dawn Summers.”

“Um, yeah,” Dawn replied.

“I’m Doris Kroeger from Social Services. I was supposed to have a meeting with Buffy Summers?”

Spike shared a quick, panicked look with Xander before sticking his hand out for her to shake, giving thanks to the Powers That Be that she was blocking the sun. “I’m William. Buffy’s upstairs getting ready but I’m sure she’ll be right down.” Turning to Xander, he mouthed, “Call Buffy.” Out loud he said, “See you tonight, Harris. We’ll work on that essay after school today, Dawn.”

As she stepped inside, he pushed the door closed behind her. He needed William to make this work. He needed to not bollocks this up. “Would you like some coffee? There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen.”

She frowned slightly, but nodded. “That would be nice.”

He watched as she looked around the house, and he knew she was taking mental notes. If he didn’t tread very softly, he could end up ruining things for Buffy, and that’s the last thing he wanted. “Can I pour?” he asked, taking down a mug.

As though realizing for the first time that he was crippled, she moved forward quickly. “No, I can get it.” Ms. Kroeger finally smiled at him. “Do you live here?” she asked.

Spike moved over to the kitchen island and pulled himself up on one of the stools. “Actually, I do. While I realize how that must look to you, I assure you Buffy and I are only friends.” He gave her his most sincere look. “If she hadn’t been there for me after the accident, I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t think I would have made it.”

Just then the phone rang, and he was relieved when it stopped after the first ring. “Then you’ve been staying here for a while,” the social worker said, glancing around the kitchen. Spike was grateful that Tara had cleaned up before leaving.

“About six months,” he replied honestly. “I didn’t have a place to stay right after, and the doctors said it wouldn’t be good to be on my own for the first bit. Buffy and I have known each other since she was in high school, and I knew Joyce quite well.”

She looked interested. “You were friends with Mrs. Summers?”

“Yeah,” and he didn’t have to fake the wave of grief that washed over his features. “She was an incredible lady. Treated me like one of her own, really.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Kroeger mumured sympathetically. “I realize it must have been terribly hard.”

“Hardest on Dawn,” he said. “I know her grades and attendance slipped for a while, but I’ve been helpin’ her with her school work, and we’ve all tried to make sure someone’s there for her.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Kroeger still looked a little skeptical, but seemed to be wilting under Spike’s sincerity. He wasn’t a master vampire for nothing, but there were times he wished he could do thrall like Dru. Just look her in the eyes and have her go away without a second thought about the Summers. But he’d never had the patience to learn, and had always relied on his stunning charm. “So it’s only you and Miss Summers, along with Dawn.”

Spike silently prayed that honesty would actually turn out to be the best policy. “Tara’s stayin’ with us as well.”

“There’s another girl living here?” The woman was sounding more and more skeptical by the moment, and Spike was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t ruined the whole thing.

“A friend of Buffy’s from college,” he explained. “She and Dawn are really close, and she’s an incredible cook. Between the three of us, someone’s pretty much always here for Dawn when she gets home from school and to make sure she’s got a good dinner and the like.”

“Oh.” Ms. Kroeger had unbent just the slightest. “It certainly sounds like there are people who care about her.” She hesitated, a look of guilty curiosity crossing her face. “Would you mind telling me what happened to you? The accident, I mean.”

Spike froze. He hadn’t thought she’d ask, couldn’t think of what to say to explain. ‘Well, you see, I fell off this tower in order to save the Bit along with Buffy and the rest of the world.’ Not bloody likely.

“Actually, William got hurt saving Dawn’s life,” Buffy said from the doorway. She stepped into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I’ve been trying to study for finals this week, and our meeting completely slipped my mind.” The Slayer gave silent thanks for Spike’s quick thinking and Xander’s phone call. It had given her time to compose herself and to come in confidently, rather than flustered.

Luckily for her, Ms. Kroeger had been completely caught by the first half of her entrance, disregarding the second bit. “You saved Dawn’s life?” she asked Spike in surprise.

Spike didn’t know what to say. While he had saved her life, he wasn’t sure how to answer that question without sounding like a complete loon. “Oh, he’s just modest,” Buffy said, coming over to stand next to him. “Dawn was crossing the street and there was an on-coming car she didn’t see. William pushed her out of the way. It’s a miracle he’s even alive.”

“Oh, well,” Doris Kroeger said, a little breathlessly. She wasn’t a bad woman at heart, and she had a soft spot for good-looking men. Especially handsome men who were true heroes. And really, Dawn’s absences had been declining this semester, and her grades were definitely improving, quite possibly due to the nice British man who was looking at her with such a charming smile. Really, they were all doing their best, weren’t they? She asked Buffy a few questions, encouraged her to call if she needed anything, and left.

Spike broke out into a large grin once he was sure she was gone. “Bloody hell, I’m glad that’s over with.”

“I’ll second that,” Buffy muttered, leaning against the door as though preventing Doris Kroeger’s re-entrance. She looked over at Spike. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t anythin’,” he replied, looking slightly embarrassed. Then he gave her one of his patented smirks. “Not even a social services dragon is immune to my charm.”

Buffy gave him a mischievous smile. “She’s not the only one.” And she walked back to the kitchen, laughing quietly at the stunned look on his face.

~~~~~

The Slayer knew exactly what kind of near escape she’d had. She hadn’t been lying to the Kroeger woman. She did have a final she was studying for, and she had let the appointment completely slip her mind. But she also knew that Dawn’s rising grades and near-perfect attendance this last semester was due mainly to Tara and Spike’s eagle eyes. Both of them had been more than willing to pick up the slack caused by her trying to be mom and Slayer and student all at the same time.

Buffy looked into the mirror as she brushed her hair, looking at the length of it. It would be nice to go shorter, she realized, something easier to take care of that would fit in with the busyness that was her life. Maybe she should get it cut after class, surprise everyone, be a little different. If she couldn’t change her life, maybe she could change her appearance.

~~~~~

Spike put the cap on his pen and glanced down at the few remaining blank pages. Another block of time and he would fill the notebook completely. He’d have to see about having the Bit or Buffy pick up another one for him. The writing came more easily for him than he’d expected, the words flowing. There was more than a little blood and guts involved, but mostly he’d concentrated on his travels, on what he’d seen and done. The truth behind the Scourge of Europe, and more specifically, the Slayer of Slayers.

He’d thought about letting Buffy see it, but didn’t think he would at this point. It wasn’t as though he felt guilt for his past; there was no regret for being a vampire. It was what he was, and he revelled in the freedom it had given him, the immortality and the strength. But there was a small part of him that did not want Buffy to know some of the things he had done. He wanted her to know what he was now, not what he had been. Giles might be a better candidate. He would know how to put the information to good use, and Spike trusted him. Not that he liked him, but he recognized in the other man a sort of practical honor.

Spike shoved the notebook under his pillow. He only had a few hours until Dawn got home and he was supposed to give her a hand with her homework. Time for a bit to eat and a nap. He’d worry about locking the book up later.

He was in the kitchen, heating up his blood when he heard the front door swing open. Frowning, he swung himself out to the hallway. “Hello? Buffy, is that you?” There was no answer, and the door was closed. He shook his head, puzzled. Buffy had an afternoon class, and she usually didn’t come home between. Dawn was usually the first to show up after school was out. He sniffed the air, but smelled only the normal scents of the occupants, breakfast, and blood.

Going back into the kitchen, he pulled out the mug and started drinking, the hunger in his belly easing. Having learned from experience, he rinsed it out and left it in the sink, going back downstairs for his nap.

Once he reached the basement however, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he knew there was someone down there with him. “I know you’re down here,” he called, trying to quell the tendrils of fear. If there was something down there with him, there wans’t much he could do about it really.

Silence. “Come on,” he taunted. “Not afraid of me are you? Show yourself.” He heard a whisper of sound and felt something brush by him. “A ghost, huh? Go haunt the living. There’s nothing down here.”

“Nothing at all?” Buffy’s voice whispered into his ear. And then her hand was brushing down his face, his arm. And he could smell her right there beside him.

“Buffy?”

“Whatsamatter, Spike? Having a hard time seeing me?” She laughed as astonishment registered on his features. “Well, you’re not the only one. I wanted to change my appearance, but I’m not sure this was the way I wanted to go.”

He reached out a hand to touch her, and found her solid, right in front of him. He just couldn’t see her. “Slayer? What happened?”

She laughed again, sounding positively giddy. “Well, I went to get a haircut, and the next thing I knew—poof! Invisible girl. It’s kind of fun, really.” Her hand found its way to his chest, and he could feel her finger making patterns on the fabric. “Want to play a game?”

Spike watched as the buttons on his shirt seemed to unbutton themselves one by one, and he could suddenly feel her warm hands on his bare chest. “Let’s see exactly where the feeling stops, huh?” He swallowed hard, feeling her hands move lower and lower, until he couldn’t feel the pressure anymore. But from there, he could imagine what she was doing, even if he couldn’t see it, and his imagination was running wild.

“Buffy? What are you doing?” he asked.

“Having a little fun,” she replied. “Aren’t you?”

Oh, he was. He couldn’t believe that she was doing this. And her hands came back up to the part of his body that could feel, and he was getting really turned on, and he had no idea what he was going to do, because his hands were presently occupied keeping him upright—

And then he saw it. The notebook he had shoved completely under his pillow was now laying right on top of it. He pulled back from the Slayer’s questing hands abruptly. “What are you doing, Buffy?” he asked coldly.

“Spike,” she protested, her tone surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone sharp. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “What’s wrong is that you invaded my privacy and now you’re playing games with me.”

“Spike, it’s not a big deal. I just wanted to see what you were so busy with. I didn’t read any of it.” Her tone was both defensive and light, as though she were a guilty child trying to play down her offense.

But his anger was heightened, not lessened. “You went where you weren’t wanted, Slayer,” he replied. “That’s my business, not yours to play about with whenever you choose.” He felt betrayed by her actions, angered by the casualness with which she toyed with him. He felt as though she were flirting with danger; coming onto him not because she wanted him but because she wanted to take a little walk on the wild side. And while he had told the truth, that he had no regret over his sacrifice, and no desire to be repaid, he hated feeling used. Used to protect her sister, used to protect the world, used when she wanted a little excitement.

“Get out, Buffy,” he growled. And she must have sensed that he meant it, because he heard her footsteps on the stairs and then overhead. Angrily, he pulled his shirt off and then sat on his cot to remove the braces. Pulling out the metal box, he locked the notebook inside, something he apparently should have done earlier. And then, sighing, he laid down, closing his eyes, tired to the bone.

~~~~~

Xander came bursting through the front door, calling for Buffy. “Slayer’s not here.” Spike’s voice came from the kitchen, and he followed the sound to its source.

“Have you seen her?” Xander paused. “Well, actually you wouldn’t have seen her—”

“She’s been here,” Dawn said quietly. She and Spike were sitting side by side at the table, working on an assignment for school. Tara sat across from them, a thick text book in front of her and a highlighter in hand.

Xander looked around at the faces. All of them wore serious expressions, and no one was looking particularly satisfied with the situation. “What happened?”

Spike looked even more grim, but he maintained his silence, which was unusual enough that Xander noticed. But Dawn was the one to answer his question. “Buffy was giving me the wiggins. She was just—acting crazy. It’s not like she was even trying to get visible again.”

“Well, she needs to get visible,” Xander replied. “Whatever did this to her is making things mushy.”

“Mushy?” Tara asked, looking puzzled.

“The traffic cone that got hit started, I don’t know, dissolving.” He looked worried. “We need to find Buffy and get this figured out.”

“Good luck findin’ something you can’t see,” Spike muttered. Xander was surprised at his tone. Normally Spike would be the first out the door, but he didn’t seem anxious to go anywhere.

“Oookay,” he said. “Anybody else notice some bitterness?”

Dawn threw him a glare. “Buffy was really freaking Spike out, Xander.”

“Right. Still, we have to find her.” Xander was extremely curious as to how Buffy had managed to piss Spike off so badly, but the vampire wasn’t talking, and it didn’t look like he was going to.

Just then the phone rang, and Spike reached over to pick it up. “Yeah…She’s not here…Dunno where she is, what do you want?” His eyes widened and narrowed. “I’ll get her the message. Just say it.” There was a long pause, and then he barked, “She’ll be there.”

Spike hung up the phone and looked over at Xander. “Whoever they are, they’ve got Red. Wanted me to find Buffy and let her know where they are.”

Xander shook his head. “We don’t have time for that. I don’t—”

The phone rang again, and Spike reached over to pick it up. “Yeah…Buffy?” He listened for a second, and then apparently cut her off. “We don’t have time for that, Slayer. Some wankers just called, said they have Red. Figure it’s the ones what turned you invisible.” He listened for a second and then listed the location for her. He hung up the phone and said calmly, “She’s handling it.”

Xander frowned. “What if she needs help?”

“She’s an invisible Slayer, Harris. She doesn’t need help.”

~~~~~

Buffy entered the house as quietly as possible, feeling more than a little ashamed of herself. Her giddy-fest from earlier in the day was going to have consequences. Making up with Dawn wouldn’t be too hard. It would require some groveling and probably the loan of her new shirt, but her sister was usually fairly forgiving. At least, as long as you begged appropriately and let her yell a little.

No, it was Spike she was concerned about. While the Slayer part of her brain impatiently reminded her that he was a vampire, and therefore it didn’t matter that she’d gotten into his private notebook, the Buffy part reminded her forcefully that it hadn’t been nice. Besides which, every time she tried to convince herself that he was an evil vampire without feelings, she remembered the way his face had looked when he’d realized he’d been paralyzed. His eyes the night he’d stopped her from burning to death. His quiet assurance when he told her he would stay with her rather than get the chip out. He had given up everything, or at least a chance at everything for her, and she hadn’t paid him back very well at all.

He was out on the back porch, of course, smoke wreathing his head. “Hey.”

“Welcome back to the world of the seen, Slayer,” he said, his deep voice resonating in the darkness.

She tried for the light approach. “I was just wondering how long you were going to stay mad, because I figured I could just come back when you were done.” The chilly silence that followed told her that might have been the wrong approach. Buffy bit her lip. “Can I sit down?”

He said nothing, but he did push himself up off the step and over so that there was more room for her to sit beside him. She took his invitation. “I’m sorry, Spike. I don’t even know what got into me.”

“I do.” His flat statement sent off sparks of anger in her. She hated it when he thought he knew better.

“Then why don’t you tell me,” she challenged, gritting her teeth.

He looked over at her, his face half in shadow, making him look sinister. “You were feeling like nothing mattered. All the rules and regulations they throw at you, everything they say you have to do, all that’s gone. Because who’s gonna know you broke some rule if no one can see you? So you had a little fun doin’ all those things you want to do when you can’t get away with it, and you tried it when you knew you bloody well could.”

Some of Buffy’s anger drained away, leaving a faint aftertaste of irritation. How could he know her so well when she didn’t even know? “How’d you work that one out, Spike?”

He caught her agitation and smiled sourly. “You ever wonder what it’s like to be a vampire, luv? Aside from the whole blood lust thing when you first rise, you suddenly feel this power that’s bigger than you could’ve ever dreamed of. But more than that, you figure out you’re free. Free of every demand anybody ever put on you. You can do what you want, go where you want, and say sod all to the rest of the world.”

Buffy’s eyes opened wide in shock even as her face flushed with anger. “You’re saying I was acting like a vampire? How sick is that?”

“Didn’t say that,” he replied, equally irritated. “I’m just saying you were feelin’ pretty free with yourself and stopped thinkin’ about what you should do for a minute. Started thinkin’ on terms of what you wanted. That’s all a vampire ever does, pet.”

“I’m not your pet,” she snapped. “Look, Spike, I’m sorry about looking in your notebook, but don’t try giving me some crap story about how I’m just like you. We’re nothing alike. We have nothing in common. You’re a soulless vampire and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

She regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of her mouth. Spike had done a lot for her recently, and he’d proven himself to be more than what he was. But they were out, and couldn’t be unsaid, and by the tightening of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes, she knew she’d just managed to throw up a wall between them that might never come down. “Well, then, I guess this soulless vampire will just say good-night.”

Buffy watched as he swung himself into the house, a constant reminder that he had given everything for her. Sometimes she hated him for not being able to hate him anymore. And other times she wished she didn’t feel so guilty for liking him as much as she did. There were days that she hated her life.

Buffy was avoiding him, and Spike was letting her. He was well aware that she was uncomfortable in the extreme with his accusations. He was also aware that at least part of her discomfort stemmed from the fact that what he said was at least partially true. Spike knew he’d been more harsh than he’d intended, but her invasion of his privacy had cut him more deeply than even he expected.

Dawn noticed, of course, sensitive as she was to those around her. Of course, most of her sensitivity had to do with the fact that the entire world revolved around her, but she still noticed. Which was why when she came to visit him in the basement, bringing a fresh, new notebook, she felt as though she should probably fill him in on a few details. “Buffy got a job.”

He glanced up, feigning disinterest. “Oh, yeah? Where and doin’ what?”

“At the Double Meat Palace, which answers both questions at once, I guess,” she replied. “We visited her this afternoon.” She eyed him speculatively. “Don’t tell me you seriously didn’t know she was working.”

He shrugged. “I figured she got a different job at the school or something.” A light came on in Spike’s brain, and he frowned at Dawn as she sat next to him on his cot. “Wait a minute. She’s flippin’ burgers? Have you seen the people that work there? They look like zombies.”

Dawn leaned back against the wall comfortably. “Buffy said the school wasn’t giving her enough money or enough hours, and she’s taking fewer classes this semester, so she has more time to work. I think she’s worried about the money thing.”

Spike sighed. He could get her the money, but he wasn’t sure she would take it. Xander had finally taken him to the Bronze, and he’d managed to prove that he still had what it took. In fact, the last night alone he’d netted more than $70, which he’d promptly given to Tara for groceries. Another couple weeks, and he’d have enough to get into that poker game again, which would give Buffy enough to live on for a while. Assuming she actually took it. The way things stood between the two of them, he wasn’t sure. “Wish I had a magic wand to wave to make all the bad things go away, Bit,” he replied.

“Me too.” She looked him in the eye. “I did like you said and took all the stuff back to the Magic Box.” She gave him a half-grin. “Unstealing it was way more fun. Anya kept getting this look on her face like, ‘How could I misplace something that was worth money?’ It was great.”

Spike smirked at her perfect imitation of the ex-demon. “Well, just as long as she doesn’t ever catch on, you might keep all your entrails intact. Thanks for the notebook.”

She hesitated. “Look, Spike, I know Buffy totally invaded your privacy. And if she’d taken a look in my diary I wouldn’t speak to her for the rest of my life, but what are you writing?”

“Things, Bit, that’s all. Stuff that’s happened to me, things I’ve done. It’s not precisely G-rated, so you can just forget about looking.”

“I so know that,” she answered with a roll of the eyes. “Besides, I heard your story about the girl in the coalbin. I know you were evil.”

“Am evil,” he corrected, more out of force of habit than anything else.

“Whatever. Anyway, maybe you could let her off the hook, because she’s been really mopey lately,” Dawn said.

He sighed and looked off into the distance. “Your sister’s been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, pet. Best just to let things be sometimes.”

~~~~~

But Spike never followed anyone’s advice, even his own. And that evening found him standing just outside the doors of the Double Meat Palace. He was on his way to the Bronze to hustle a few more unsuspecting gits at the pool table, but he thought he’d just stop in, say hello, maybe tell her to run for the hills while she still had a chance. It was a thought anyway.

She was talking to one of her co-workers when he came in, an older woman who looked as though she was stoned. What scared Spike was that he knew she wasn’t on anything. It was as he had suspected. Grease killed brain cells. “So, what’s in the Double Meat nuggets?” he asked, shooting for a bit of humor as she walked over to him.

She eyed him for a moment and then sighed. “God only knows, and that’s pretty much the truth. What are you doing here, Spike?”

He shrugged. “Was on my way to shoot some pool and I thought I’d drop in. Bit told me you got a job here.”

“Yeah, well, I kind of need the cash.” Buffy unbent just a little. “Look, Spike, I’ve already taken my break. You should probably go. I don’t get off for a while yet.”

He leaned forward on his crutches, looking her straight in the eye. “You’ll drive yourself crazy, luv. You’re not happy here.”

“Story of my life,” she replied, then looked away. “Don’t make this any harder. Please.”

His voice took on an intensity she rarely heard from him. “You’re better than this, Buffy. This isn’t where you belong.”

“I told you I need the money.”

“I can get money,” he replied, dropping his voice. “Enough to tide you over till you find something better if you don’t want to take it from me.” For a minute, he thought she might take him up on his offer, but she shook her head.

“I need to go help Gary with the fries.”

He wanted to shake her out of her stubbornness, to throw her over his shoulder and march out of there, but there was nothing he could do if she didn’t want his help. “This place will do stuff to you, Buffy,” he warned, shooting a surreptitious look at the other woman. And as she walked away without replying, he called out after her, “This place will kill you!”

~~~~~

Spike was more than a little concerned about the Slayer. He had seen the look on her face the other night, knew how unhappy she was at her new job. His greatest fear was that she’d suddenly feel like everything was too much, that she’d give up. Not that she’d run out and kill herself, but that she’d end up getting herself killed. When she got herself a double shift the very next day, his concern grew even more.

“It sucks,” Dawn agreed. She was sitting next to Spike in the kitchen, trying to do her math homework. “It’s just not fair. I mean, Janice’s sister is a lawyer, but Buffy is probably just stuck doing minimum wage stuff. I could be anything I want to be.”

Spike looked over at her. “You’re sister’s not stuck, Bit. I promise you that. She’s still in school, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, it’s just, being the Slayer is different. I mean, she’s always going to be the Slayer, and that means she doesn’t—”

Dawn broke off, but Spike thought he knew what she meant. Being the Slayer was everything for Buffy, but it also meant that her options got limited pretty quick. And with the death of her mother and a younger sister to look after, her options got slimmer by the day. Which was why Spike was worried. If she felt too trapped, she might not fight quite as hard. “Big sis can take care of herself, Li’l Bit,” he reassured her. “And we’ll see what we can do to make sure the rest gets taken care of.” He reached over and gave her hair a friendly pull. “You just concentrate on your schoolwork, then you can be a big fancy doctor or lawyer or whatnot and take care of the both of us.”

“Like you need to be taken care of,” Dawn scoffed. “You’re the professional poker player.”

~~~~~

Spike left Dawn in Tara’s capable hands and went to play pool as soon as the sun went down. He had every intention of making that poker game, and he needed a little more cash to get in. Almost in spite of himself he swung past Buffy’s work on his way to the Bronze. It was actually a bit out of his way, but he was worried, and he wanted to reassure himself, maybe do something for her, maybe convince her to leave, though he didn’t think that last was likely.

He should still be pissed at her for certain. She still hadn’t apologized for reading his notebook, but he was too worried to be angry. She could walk all over him, and he’d forgive her every time, he loved her that much. He needed her that much.

Spike could see that she noticed him swinging by, and he made a quick decision to wait for her out in the alley, hoping she might decide to come outside for her break. Sure enough, she stepped outside the door with a bag of trash and tossed it into the dumpster before glancing over at him. “Spike—” she began.

He could hear both weariness and tension in her tone, see it in the set of her shoulders. She would not allow him to bear her burdens for her, so he would do what he could, give her what he could in the short span of a fifteen minute break. “Come here, Slayer,” he said, a gentle command. And to his surprise she came to him, where he leaned against the wall, and he pulled her around so that her back was to him, and sought to soothe the tension with strong fingers.

Buffy moaned slightly and leaned into the pressure, letting him take out the knots brought on by idiot co-workers and a double shift and the sense that life was closing in on her. She was trapped by duty, by friends, by her sister. They were bonds that she had willingly accepted and even now would not give up, but every day the burden seemed to grow a little heavier, and she wondered if this was the way things would always be.

Minutes passed, and Buffy reluctantly pulled away. “I should get back.”

“Yeah, s’pose so,” he replied, his voice a husky whisper. He wanted to keep her there, to take her home with him, but he let go, watching as she turned to go back inside.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, surprising him. He tilted his head quizzically, not understanding. “For the other day. With your journal.”

He shook his head. “Forget it, Buffy.”

“No, you were right, about me not thinking. I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. And I’m sorry for what I said later.” She stood facing him now, her chin tilted defiantly, daring the Powers that Be to strike her down for saying she was sorry to a vampire.

He seemed wary of her apology, not understanding it or where it was coming from. And Buffy wondered if she had been so unkind to him in the past that he would be afraid of an act of contrition. Spike had always seemed to have an easier time accepting blows and harsh words. “It’s fine, luv. Nothing that wasn’t true.”

She hesitated, frightened that taking it further, that saying more would change their relationship irrevocably, send it careening down a path she had no intention of taking. At the same time, she wasn’t sure it would be so bad. “True or not, you’re a lot more than that, Spike.”

Buffy left it at that, heading back into the grease-pit that was her job. But Spike was left with a bright flame glowing within called hope.

~~~~~

When he came home late, his pockets full, he found Buffy and Willow on the couch with Tara and Dawn as their rapt audience. “So I cut its head off and we threw it into the meat grinder.”

Tara and Dawn winced visibly, and Buffy made a face as well. It would be a long time before any of them would willingly eat at the Double Meat Palace. “But it was Wig Lady the entire time,” Buffy finished. “And the meat is actually vegetables, which is weird to think about.”

“You’re not going back there are you, Buffy?” Dawn asked.

Buffy shrugged. “I have to go back tomorrow to take the uniform in, but no. I have a feeling they aren’t going to give me my job back after making a huge scene like that.”

“Though the info about the meat being veggies is probably worth a lot,” Willow suggested. “If you wanted, you could probably blackmail them or something.” She quickly looked down at her hands. “Not that blackmail is at all a good thing, ‘cause it’s not.”

“Spot of blackmail can be right useful, Red,” Spike finally said from the doorway, his face carefully void of expression. If Buffy wanted to go back to that hell-hole, he wasn’t going to be the one to stop her; she’d made that clear. “Tara, got a bit of something for you if you’ve got a minute.”

The other three stared curiously as Tara followed him out to the kitchen and he handed her a wad of cash. “Grocery money,” he explained in a soft whisper. “Should get you by for another week or two.”

The witch quickly counted the bills and raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure this is just pool money, Spike? This is quite a bit.”

To her surprise, he looked away guiltily. “Tip money,” he mumbled. She waited patiently for him to go on, and he finally explained. “Bar tender at the Bronze was sick. Owner needed a sub, asked me to do it. Told him I would one time. They tipped well.”

Tara wanted to laugh. Here he was acting guilty about earning money legitimately, whereas a high-stakes poker game was a thing of pride. “There’s nothing wrong with bar-tending, Spike.”

He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “Don’t want it to get out. ‘Sides, one time deal, you know. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said gently, touching him on the arm. He looked at her gratefully then. He was so strange to her; so dark and violent and at the same time so much like a boy. He could be so sweet, it made her heart ache, and at other times he showed a lack of empathy so deep it was frightening. But he was changing, she knew. Every day she saw in his aura a difference, a lightening. As though this trial was altering and changing him into something new. She caught a glimpse of it then, as he leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Glinda,” he said softly. “You’re alright.” And then he retreated into the basement.

~~~~~

Buffy made her way stealthily into the basement. She had no idea of why it was important to see him, to talk to him, but it somehow was. In the end, it had been impossible for her to ask to have her job back. If she had been more desperate, she would have. But her student loans had finally come through for the semester, which covered her tuition and most of the housing expenses. It had been grocery money she’d been most concerned about, but Tara had told her that morning that they had enough to last the month out at least, courtesy of Spike. And apparently he’d been doing that for the last couple weeks, passing off his winnings to Tara.

She stared at him, lying sprawled on his back on the small cot. They were spartan surroundings, really, but he seemed content enough. Seeing him, she was struck again by the choice he had made, to stay with her. She wasn’t worth it.

“Buffy?” he said sleepily, his eyes blinking open. “That you, luv?”

“Yeah.” For some reason she felt compelled to go and sit on the side of his bed. “Sorry I woke you.”

He rubbed his face, and she could see the curls in his hair, mussed as it was. “’S okay. Did you get your job back, then?”

“No.” She hesitated. “I thought I’d take your advice and look for something better. I waitressed before, maybe I could find something like that.” There was a long pause. “Tara told me about the grocery money. You bought me some time, you know, to look.”

“You finally decide I’m a fount of wisdom?” he asked with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him. “No, actually I got scared.” He quirked his eyebrow, and she explained. “Lorraine, the new manager, would probably have given my job back, but I couldn’t ask. She had on this 5 Year badge, and I could just see myself getting stuck there forever. And with the double shifts and the smelling of grease, it just didn’t seem to go well with the whole college student image I’m trying to pull off.”

“You’ll make it, Buffy,” he said quietly. “Maybe you don’t see it now, but you’ll make it. And you’ll find a better place to work than that hell-hole.”

“Hope so,” she replied with a small smile. “I should really let you get back to sleep though.”

Spike frowned at her, his blue eyes concerned. “You look tired, pet.”

She tried, and failed, to smile. “A little. I’ll be fine.”

“Here,” he grunted, moving so that he was on his side, his back to the wall. “Have a bit of a lie down, Slayer. The others’ll be gone for the rest of the day. It’s dark and quiet down here.”

Buffy knew she probably shouldn’t, but it was too tempting. There was something about being in Spike’s arms that made her feel as though somehow everything would be fine. He made her feel protected, knowing that he would do anything for her. She lay beside him, and felt herself relax as he pulled her close, one strong arm wrapped around her middle. “Sleep, Slayer,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got your back.” And they both slipped under together, breathing in time.

Spike got back in the wee hours of the morning to find Buffy lying on the couch, waiting for him. “Slayer? What are you still doing up?”

Buffy shrugged, throwing off the blanket that had been covering her. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d wait up for you. You’re in later than usual.”

“Poker game,” he said by way of explanation, non-chalantly pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket and tossing it to her.

“Spike, I don’t think—”

“That’s not all of it, Buffy,” he said quietly. “So don’t worry about that. If I can’t fight demons for you, then I want to do something else to help.”

She stared at the envelope. It was too much, and she shouldn’t take it. But at the same time, he really did want to help, and she really did need the money. “Thank you.”

He glanced away, not meeting her eyes. “Yeah well, anytime, luv. You should get to bed, though. You’ve got work tomorrow and school.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It never ceased to amaze her that Spike knew everyone’s schedules better than they did. “Would you do me a favor?”

He paused on his way to the basement stairs. “If I can. What do you need, Buffy?”

“Stay with me tonight.” The silence that followed her request was deafening.

He turned to face her, slowly. “What do you want from me?” There was no anger in his tone, just a kind of curiosity. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, because it certainly wasn’t going to be sex, and he really couldn’t see what else there might be.

Her features illustrated her warring emotions. Having admitted to herself that Spike made her feel as though everything would be alright was completely different than actually saying it out loud. “I need to feel—” She broke off, not telling him what it was he made her feel, but it seemed to be enough for him. His face softened, and he gave her a little smile.

“All right, then.”

She followed him up the stairs, letting him set his own slow pace, and shut the door to her room behind both of them. He seemed awkward, as though he wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but he sat on the edge of her bed and slowly removed the braces, setting them gently down on the floor. He was about to start on his boots, when Buffy was there in front of him. “Let me.”

She pulled his boots off one at a time, and then pulled his shirt off over his head. “You know this isn’t going anywhere, don’t you?” he asked quietly as she ran calloused fingers over his face. “I can’t give you anything, Buffy.”

“You give me everything, Spike. Isn’t that enough?”

He stared at her, shocked that she had spoken the words aloud. He gave her all of himself, and he didn’t think she’d ever noticed. “It’s never been enough before,” he replied.

She kissed him deeply, roughly, needing this, needing him. She was using him, she knew, to feel safe, to make herself believe that tomorrow would be better. And yet there was more in her heart for him than simple pity. Indeed, nothing between them had ever been simple, not even when they were trying to kill one another. Even if this was all they ever had, it was enough for the moment.

~~~~~

Buffy woke slowly late the next morning, turning the alarm clock off quickly before it could wake Spike. She slipped out from under his arm, smiling as he muttered in his sleep, unwilling to let her go. Always so unwilling to let her go. She headed out towards the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind her, only to face Tara in the hallway. “Hey.”

“Hey, Buffy.” She hesitated. “Spike’s with you?”

“Yeah. Do you—could we talk? Later maybe?”

Tara nodded. “I don’t have class till this afternoon. We could talk after you get out of the shower.”

Buffy finished cleaning up and then went downstairs to find the other woman waiting for her in the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Please.” The Slayer gave a sigh of contentment as she took a sip. “Why does it have to be like this?” she asked, not quite rhetorically.

“Like what?” Tara replied, her face open and sympathetic.

Buffy looked down into her mug, as though the surface might give her the answers to all her questions. “I should hate him. He’s everything I’ve been taught to detest. Hell, he should be dead by now. One of us should have killed the other at this point. And he’s the only one who makes me feel safe.”

Tara said nothing, waiting for Buffy to go on. “Some days it feels like everything’s too much. Taking care of Dawn, and being the Slayer, and working, and school. One thing after another every day, day in and day out.. And the only time I feel like it’s bearable, and I might just make it is when I’m with him. Why is it him, Tara? Why is it that Spike makes me feel safe when no one else can?”

Tara was quiet for a long time. “He loves you, Buffy. I think it’s the people that love us the most that make us feel the safest.”

“It’s not supposed to work that way,” she protested. “It’s not supposed to be the soulless vampire that saves the world, and loves me.”

Tara smiled. “Nothing is ever perfect, Buffy. Sometimes you just have to take what you can get.”

“But what if it’s a trick?” Buffy moaned, putting her head down on the counter. “What if I take it, and it turns out it was just a trick and I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to figure out if it’s a risk woth taking,” Tara said gently but firmly.

~~~~~

Buffy came home from work exhausted. She’d been at home less and less the last couple weeks, what with school and starting her new waitressing job. She was just grateful that both Tara and Spike were more than capable of taking care of Dawn. But she thought she would finally have the opportunity to hang and spend some quality time with her sister.

“You’re going to Janice’s to spend the night?” Buffy asked incredulously. “And I’m supposed to fall for that one because of the surprise lobotomy?”

“It’s okay, Buf,” Xander said. Xander, Anya, and Willow had come over to work on dancing for the wedding reception. “Spike told me before he left that he’d checked it out with Janice’s mom. She’s picking Dawn up.”

“Please, Buffy?” Dawn said. “I didn’t know you were going to be home, and Tara and Spike both were going to be out tonight, so they thought it would be okay.”

“Sure, why not?” Buffy asked glumly. Then, as she thought about an evening alone, she decided to take Xander up on his offer of a night of Bronzing and the promised “frothy nectar.”

But the Bronze didn’t seem to have the same appeal as it usually did. And Xander, Anya and Willow seemed bent on having a good time. It was easy enough for them. They didn’t have the same kinds of responsibilities that she had. They didn’t have to worry about performing a duty that would most likely kill them, sooner or later. She wandered upstairs to the balcony overlooking the dance floor, staring down, watching as her friends danced.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Spike’s deep voice echoed out of the shadows behind her. “What’s the matter, Buffy? You look a little down.”

She was silent, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. “You’re thinking you’re the only one with problems,” he said, uncannily reading her mind. “You look at them and you think they have it so easy.” He swung himself over to stand just behind her. “Look at them, Slayer. So full of their own problems that they don’t see you’re hangin’ on by a bare thread. They’d never know how close you are to just givin’ up.”

His voice tickled her ear. “Harris scared stupid he’s rushin’ into this thing, thinking he might have made a mistake askin’ her to marry him. And the demon-girl thinkin’ he might leave her at the altar or get tired of her or somethin’. And she’ll be left just like all those women she got vengeance for. Red, who’s strugglin’ with the magic every day, feelin’ like this huge piece of her is missin’ and not havin’ much hope that it’s gonna get better.”

Spike put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Shall I go on, Slayer? You think you’ve got problems? The only problem you an’ your Scoobies got is that you’re too blind to see how much you’re all hurtin’. Can’t see past your own noses, any of you. Meanwhile, the rest of us on the sidelines just watch and wait and hope it all blows over, because we depend on you lot to get your heads out of your arses and save the bloody world. Go figure.”

He turned to leave, but Buffy’s bitter words stopped him. “And what about you, Spike? You haven’t said anything about how sucky your life is.”

“What are you talkin’ about, luv?” he asked softly. “I made my choices and I live with them. End of story.”

She watched him as he left, then watched from above as he moved to an empty pool table, only to be harrassed by a couple college kids. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she knew it wasn’t very nice by the looks on their faces and the set of the vampire’s jaw. But he responded easily, and soon they were playing a game that Spike would win. For her. Damn him.

He was so alive, she realized. More than anyone she’d ever known, he glowed with life and seemed to pass it on to any who would drink from him. He would give it all to her, for her. He would breathe it into Dawn, into Tara, to make their lives a little more bearable. To allow them to know someone loved them. And she had to wonder how someone who was supposedly dead could be so alive, so brilliant and shiny with it. It made her love him. And it made her hate him.

~~~~~

Buffy came into the house and shut the door behind her, feeling as though the police were already on her heels. She had killed a girl tonight, and instead of doing something about it she had run. She, the Slayer, had freaked out. Well, to be completely honest, she’d frozen, and then she’d freaked, but still.

“Buffy?” His voice came from the shadows, from the kitchen, and he looked at her with nothing but concern in his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“No,” she whispered. She didn’t know why she was telling him, except she didn’t know who else to tell. “There was a girl in the woods. And demons. I don’t—time went all funny, and I killed her, Spike. I killed the girl.”

He was by her side in an instant, faster than anyone had any right to be on crutches. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I mean, I know she was dead, but I thought—I thought she was a demon and I hit her. Spike, I didn’t mean to.”

“Shh,” he soothed, running one hand over her braided hair. “It was an accident. You wouldn’t hurt anyone like that. Did anybody see you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I panicked.”

“Right, then.” He put a hand to her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Listen to me, Slayer. You never left the house tonight, hear me? There’s nothin’ to connect you to the body, nothin’ at all. They’ll find her, and they’ll scratch their heads and that will be the end of it.”

“But I killed her,” she protested.

“And you didn’t mean it,” he said furiously. “It was an accident, Buffy. There’s nothin’ you can do about it now.” His voice softened. “Go upstairs, crawl in your nice warm bed, and go to sleep. Everything will be fine.”

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But after an alarming nightmare where the dead girl and Spike kept changing places, she knew she needed to tell someone, tell the police, do the right thing. Of course, she would do the right thing. She was the Slayer, after all.

She had wanted to tell Dawn, but had chickened out at the last minute. Spike and Tara would take care of her, she knew. They would tell her what she needed to know. She’d leave a note for Spike. But Spike hadn’t gone to bed. What she hadn’t figured on was Spike’s dogged persistance or the fact that he seemed to know her so well. “Where are you going, Buffy?”

He stood, facing her in the living room as she came down the stairs, apparently waiting for her to try something just like she was doing right at that moment. “I need to tell someone. I’m going to the police.”

“And what are you going to tell them, luv?” he demanded. “That you were out for a walk when three demons attacked you and you accidentally killed the girl by mistake?”

“Let me go, Spike,” she said, anger and fear and horrible guilt washing over her in great waves.

“No,” he replied. “I love you, Buffy. I won’t let you do this. You’re throwin’ your life away for nothin’. There’s nothin’ to tie you to the girl, if no one saw you. Don’t do this.”

“I have to,” she spat back. “How can you understand? You’re a vampire, vampires kill people. I’m the Slayer. I’m supposed to save them, and I killed her! I killed her!” Her agonized words broke his heart, and he reached for her, only to have her back away from him.

“Buffy, luv, please don’t do this. It won’t do anyone any good.”

“I have to.” She turned her back on him, went to walk out the door, and he grabbed her arm.

“I can’t let you,” he replied. “I won’t let you.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp and kept walking, but he just grabbed onto her again, tighter this time. “No, Buffy.”

Angry, half-blinded by tears, she pulled back her fist and hit him, sending him crashing to the floor, his crutches scattered. She’d knocked him a good one; the red mark under his eye would shape up into a nice shiner. But it was his sprawled form that stopped her in her tracks. He looked up at her, half-dazed from the blow. “That’s right, luv,” he whispered. “Put it all on me.”

“No,” she muttered. “No, I can’t.” She stared at him, looking up when she heard her name.

“Buffy?” Dawn and Tara stood on the stairs, and the four of them froze, a tableau of grief and confusion and anger. In that moment, Buffy suddenly realized that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with it. Not tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, in the morning, she might have to do something (what she didn’t know), but for the moment she couldn’t.

“Dawn,” she said quietly. “Go get some ice, please. Tara, help me with him.” She couldn’t look him in the eye as she helped the witch collect his crutches and get him standing again. But she helped him over to the couch, and told him in no uncertain terms to lie down, placing the ice-pack Dawn brought gently on his face.

Then, with much hesitation she told her sister and Tara what had happened earlier. Dawn was both devastated and angry that Buffy would have left her, which the Slayer could understand completely. But Tara was thoughtful.

“You said time went funny for you?” she asked.

Buffy nodded. “I don’t know what happened. It almost felt as though I were speeding up and then slowing down. I couldn’t figure out the sequence of things at all.”

“Are you sure you killed her then?” she asked gently.

Buffy froze. All she could think about was spinning around and knocking the girl down the hill, but she wasn’t even sure about that, about when it had happened. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Did you know her?” Spike asked from under his ice-pack. “Any chance of that? Because no self-respectin’ girl is gonna be out that time of night in that area of town.”

There was a long moment of silence as Buffy tried to remember. “There was something familiar about her, but I—I can’t be sure. I mean, it was so fast, and—”

“Enough.” Spike pulled the ice away from his face and sat up slowly. “So there was somethin’ funny goin’ on, which means you don’t know anything for sure.” His face was stern and set, something she didn’t think she’d ever seen on him before. It made him look older somehow. “Seems to me we wait. Papers’ll have somethin’ about it soon enough. Or you can get Red to hack into the police files for you, if that’s what you need. In any case, no point in turnin’ yourself in for a crime you’re not even sure you committed.”

The Slayer hesitated, and then admitted, “You’re right. I was just—”

“In shock,” he said gently. “You were in shock, an’ you were scared. Nothin’ to be ashamed of, pet.” Spike looked at the other two. “You lot should get to bed too. It’ll be fine.” He shared a look with Tara, who took the hint and started to herd Dawn up the stairs.

When they were gone, Buffy turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said shortly. “You know I’d do anythin’ for you.”

She shook her head. “No, Spike. Don’t make light of this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

Seeing how serious she was about it sobered him. “It’s alright, Buffy. No harm done.”

“You’re going to have a black eye.”

“It’ll mend.” He reached up to brush her hair back from her face. “You should try to sleep.”

She shook her head, took his hand. “I had this dream—I know it’s stupid, and I know you probably don’t want to, but will you stay with me tonight?”

“If it’ll help you sleep,” he replied. And then he suddenly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She stiffened and froze, but then relaxed against him, shivering. He sighed. “I can’t carry you upstairs, pet,” he murmured. “You’re going to have to walk.”

“Forget upstairs,” she mumbled against his shirt. “Just hold me here, Spike. Now.”

~~~~~

He was still sleeping the next morning when she rose to join Dawn and Tara in the kitchen. Tara held the paper out to her apologetically. “It looks like they found her body,” she said.

Buffy read the short article. Dead girls weren’t as big of news in Sunnydale as they probably should be. She scanned it quickly and then frowned as she read the name. “Katrina Silvers?”

“You know her, Buffy?” Dawn asked from over her cereal bowl. She hadn’t completely forgiven her sister for almost leaving the night before, or for hitting Spike as she had, but she was beginning to soften. Her sister hadn’t left, in the end, and that counted for something.

The Slayer shook her head. “Not exactly, but I know who she is.”

“Who, luv?” Spike asked, swinging himself into the kitchen, looking rather rumpled.

“The girl from last night,” she explained. “She was Warren’s girlfriend. You know, the guy that made the girlfriend ‘bot.”

Spike had the grace to look ashamed of himself at the reminder of Warren and his robots. “Why would he need a ‘bot if he had a girlfriend already?” he asked, puzzled.

Buffy shrugged. “He made her before he met this girl. Though I don’t think she stayed around for long after she found out about it.” Snarling suddenly, she slammed the newspaper down on the counter. “That bastard. I know he had something to do with it. And I would bet money he and his nerd friends had something to do with me finding her.”

“What are you going to do?” Spike asked.

She rubbed her hand over her face. “First I’m going to get cleaned up, and then we’ll go to the Magic Box. I need to find out what kind of demons those were, how he got me all turned around. And then, when I get my hands on him, I’m going to kick his ass.” She turned a considering eye on Spike. “Meanwhile, you need to get something to eat and get some sleep. You look like you need both.”

He gave her a wry look, touching his black eye gently. “I look that bad, eh, luv?”

Buffy marvelled at the fact that she’d knocked him across the room and he still could look at her like that. “You’ve looked better,” she admitted quietly. Forgetting that Dawn and Tara were still in the room, she gently touched his face, the unbruised portion. “Thanks, for last night. I probably would have done something fairly stupid.”

He ducked his head, not quite meeting her eyes. “You would have figured it out, Slayer. You always do.”

“Still,” she replied, moving forward to kiss him on the lips, much as she had done after he’d tangled with Glory. “You’re a pretty decent guy, Spike.”

He watched her as she left the room, ignoring Tara and Dawn’s knowing looks. He probably should have reminded her that he was evil, but somehow he couldn’t find it in his unbeating heart. At this point, he’d settle for being decent.

Spike came out of the basement just as the front door closed behind Buffy’s retreating form. “’ey, Niblet. Where’s your sister goin’?”

“Out,” Dawn replied shortly. “She had to go kill some demon.” She looked over at him, her entire countenance radiating disappointment. “We were supposed to have dinner together.”

Spike’s face softened. He hated to see his Bit sad for any reason. “Well, come on then. I’ll fix dinner for the both of us.”

The look she gave him was dubious at best. “That’s okay, I think I’ll pass.”

“What, you don’t think I can cook?” he asked, acting highly offended. She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and he went on. “Been watchin’ the cooking channel for six months now, pet. Some of it should have rubbed off.” Not waiting for her reply, he set off for the kitchen, with Dawn trailing reluctantly behind.

She sat on the counter, watching him rummage in the fridge. “Where’s Glinda?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled.

“She had a paper to work on, so she was going to spend time in the library,” Dawn replied. “Buffy thought it would give us a chance to hang out, but then this thing came up and she had to take off.”

“Slaying’s important, Bit,” he said, finally deciding to make an omelet and beginning to pull the makings out.

“I know that,” she replied. “But I’ve barely seen her recently. It’s like she doesn’t even want to spend time with me.”

He looked at her sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“Could have fooled me,” Dawn mumbled. Spike chose to pretend he didn’t hear that in favor of beginning his omelet. He worked in silence, save for the occasional question asking the girl what she did and didn’t like. It didn’t take long before it was done, and he slid it on a plate in front of her.

“Go on,” he said. “You watched me make it, so it’s not like you don’t know what’s in it.”

He started heating up his own dinner in the microwave, waiting for her comments. “It’s good,” she said.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised,” he snarked, trying to hide his pleasure. She gave him a little smile that told him she knew exactly what he was doing, and dug in. Spike gulped down his blood and started cleaning up. Buffy might get on his case for a dirty kitchen, but it was Tara that he was truly afraid of. She was the one who could turn him into an undead frog after all, or slip something into his blood.

Dawn helped him finish, marvelling at the ease with which he moved around on his crutches. He really could do almost anything. Except for fight, of course, which she supposed bothered him more often than he let on.

“Have you gotten anything for the Slayer’s birthday yet?” he asked, handing her the last clean dish.

She shrugged. “No, but I don’t have a lot of money,” she confessed. “If I were still—you know—I could just pick something up.”

“But you’re not, so you won’t,” he said sternly, to which she rolled her eyes.

“Well, yeah. But that kind of limits me in a big way.”

He looked at her for a long time. “Tell you what, Bit. I haven’t got anythin’ for your sis yet either. So I’ll provide the cash if you’ll provide the brains. How’s that?”

“I can’t take your money,” she protested.

“It’s not takin’ my money,” he replied easily. “Knowin’ my luck, I’ll pick out somethin’ she hates. So we’ll go in together.”

Dawn smiled slowly. Not only was she going to be able to get her sister a great gift now, but she also got Spike to herself for the evening. Knowing the vampire, she could probably even talk him into some ice cream.

When they got home a few hours later, Dawn felt she had the perfect gift for Buffy in a very pretty sheer blouse. Spike had looked rather dubious over her choice, but had let her have her way. “What would you have gotten her?” she asked him, curious and slightly miffed that he didn’t think more highly of her choice.

“Somethin’ sharp and shiny,” he had replied with an evil grin.

As they entered the front door, she stole a look at the vampire. He’d been around a lot recently she realized, and had spent more time with her than Buffy had. Spike looked up to meet her eyes. “You should get to bed, Bit,” he said. “It’s past all good kiddies’ bedtime.”

“Good night, Spike,” she replied, and then paused, impulsively hugging him. “I love you.”

Spike was too shocked to say much of anything, managing a weak, “Same here.” He stared at her retreating figure as she climbed the stairs. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. He closed his eyes reflectively. She shouldn’t have been able to wrap him around her little finger, but she had. He sighed. He was done for.

~~~~~

“I’m going to kill Xander,” Buffy mumbled, leaning against the kitchen wall. Spike, who had just emerged from the basement, looked over at her with one raised eyebrow.

“And just what’s Harris’ offense?” he asked with some amusement.

She rolled her eyes. “He and Anya invited a friend.”

“Last I heard that wasn’t a crime,” he replied.

“A single, male friend,” she clarified.

Spike wasn’t sure whether to laugh or get mad. The annoyed look on his Slayer’s face told him that she wasn’t at all happy about being set up. On the other hand, there was every possibility that she could get interested in this wanker, and then where would he be? “You want me to scare him off?” he asked lightly, an evil look in his eyes.

“No,” she replied. And then she gave him a reluctant smile. “But it’s tempting. I’m just not into doing a relationship right now. I don’t have the time or the energy.”

Spike wanted to ask her what he was, since she’d been hanging onto him pretty tightly recently. But it was her birthday, and he didn’t want to piss her off. As things stood, she was definitely softening towards him, which could only be a good thing as far as he was concerned. “Well, if you need rescuing, you know where I’ll be.”

He stayed mostly on the fringes, a position both he and the Scoobies recognized as his. Tara came and stood by him as they watched Buffy begin to open presents. “Richard’s kind of cute.” She looked over at him with a sly grin. “Don’t you think? I’m not an expert.”

He threw her a sour look and decided to get back a little of his own. “And Red’s lookin’ ‘specially biteable this evenin’.”

She blushed slightly, and they both shared a look. “Are you going to make a move on her?” Tara asked.

“Not unless she asks for it,” he replied, knowing very well that his ability to “make a move” was severely limited. “You?”

“It’s not time yet,” Tara said, uncomfortable with his line of questioning. They fell silent, perfect understanding between them.

They watched as she opened Willow’s gift, a portable massage thing, and then Dawn eagerly pressed her package into her hands. “Mine next,” she insisted.

Buffy opened the box and smiled at the blouse. “It’s beautiful, Dawn. But you must have spent too much.”

Dawn shook her head. “Spike and I went in together.”

Buffy looked up at the vampire, who was standing across the room, the last vestiges of his black eye still fading. “Thanks.” She looked at her sister. “To both of you. It’s really pretty.”

And then the next moment the blouse was forgotten as Xander wheeled in a truly handsome weapons chest. Spike could certainly appreciate the craftsmanship, but he saw Dawn’s disappointment as Buffy set her gift aside.

The party was still going strong a few hours later. Spike was mildly surprised that no one had left yet, but the guests seemed to be having a good time. He, Xander, and Tara were playing a game of poker, while Buffy and the others, including Richard, were playing a game of Monopoly. “You could probably go join them,” Tara murmured. “I doubt Buffy would mind.”

“Don’t think so,” he said, with as much indifference as he could muster. “Think I’ll avoid letting the demon-girl clean my clock.”

Xander looked from one to the other of them, trying to discern the vibes he was sensing. “I thought you liked playing poker, Spike,” he said.

“I do,” he said mildly, shooting Tara a look that plainly suggested she keep her opinions to herself. “Which is what we should be doing.”

By the next morning, the oddity of the never-ending party was beginning to impose itself on Spike. On the other hand, Buffy was pretty much ignoring Richard in favor of playing gin with him.When Richard came in to tell Xander that they needed to get to work, he had no problem giving the git a hard time. “You should definitely go,” he said cheerfully. “Wouldn’t want to be late for work now. ‘Course, you shouldn’t skip breakfast, growing boy like you.”

Richard looked slightly puzzled, and Buffy gave him a mock glare, lips twitching. “Speaking of breakfast, I haven’t had mine yet.” A wicked grin pulled up the corners of his lips.

“Spike.” It was one word, a warning he chose not to heed.

“I’m usually a picky eater, but ‘m hungry enough today just to eat whatever’s left lying about.” He smirked, and he heard Buffy give a little huffy breath, somewhere between a grunt and a giggle.

“That’s absolutely enough,” she said, standing up and hauling him to his feet. “If you’re really that hungry, let’s get you fed.”

She followed him into the hall, making sure he was moving. “Oh, come on, Slayer,” Spike purred. “I was just havin’ a bit of fun with the new boy-toy.”

“He’s not my new boy-toy,” she said. “And we do not joke about eating people in this house. I mean it.” But there was a glint in her eyes that might have been humor, and he moved just a little closer, invading her space.

“He didn’t even get the joke, luv.” He grinned. “You can’t tell me it wasn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t funny,” she said, but he got a reluctant smile. “You really should go get your breakfast, Spike.”

“Nice to know you care,” he said, his voice a whisper of sound so that no one would hear him.

She hesitated, and then reached out to put a hand on his own, where it gripped the crutch. “I always care.”

“Buffy?” He frowned, realizing something odd, in spite of the tenderness of the moment. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave—the sunny day effectively prevented that—but no one else was leaving either, even though he knew they all had places to be. “Why isn’t anyone leaving?”

She returned the frown, seemingly frozen in place. “I’m leaving,” she insisted. “I’ve got class. And work.” When nothing happened, she protested, “I am leaving.”

“Sure you are,” he said, sarcasm lacing his words. “Looks like we’re going to be havin’ a meeting.”

The meeting itself was fruitless. About the only information that was disseminated was that they all had other places to be, except, perhaps, for Spike. But even when they were all supposed to jump out the door together (again, Spike wasn’t including himself in that group) nothing happened and no one moved. Dawn’s huffy outburst and retreat to her room set off alarm bells in everyone’s heads though, and Buffy swiftly followed her sister. The rest of them might have gone as well, but Spike nixed that idea. “The Bit’s upset enough already without you lot comin’ down on her. Give Buffy ‘n me a minute to straighten things out, then we’ll see.”

Amazingly enough, they listened to him. It appeared they were actually coming to trust him after all this time, and he made his own slow way up the stairs after the Slayer, hearing raised voices as he neared the youngest Summers’ room. “I didn’t have anything to do with it!” Dawn exclaimed angrily. “Figure it out yourselves. I’m done being talked to like a kid.”

“You’re right, Niblet.” Spike came up behind Buffy in the doorway. “You’re not a kid, and if you say you didn’t have anythin’ to do with it, fine.” He put his hand on Buffy’s arm and squeezed, hoping she’d follow his lead. Apparently, she was beginning to trust him too, because she simply nodded.

“Spike’s right, Dawnie,” Buffy said softly. “If you say you don’t know anything about what’s keeping us here, we believe you.” She frowned slightly. “But your outburst downstairs just made it seem like you didn’t want anyone to leave in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, it takes something like this to get anybody to spend time with me in the first place.” Dawn’s face was sullen.

“We want to spend time with you, Dawn,” Buffy said, her voice edged with exasperation. “But we have other places we have to be. Work, school. You have school too, in fact.”

“All more important,” Dawn muttered.

Buffy was about to retort, but Spike stayed her again. He had a feeling that a lot of her anger was centered on Buffy and her frequent absences at this point, but she was being childish, and there was no talking to her while she was in this state. “Right then. Let us know if you’ve got anything of importance to add, Bit,” he said briskly. “Until then, we’ll just leave you to yourself.”

Buffy followed him out of her room and into the hallway. “What the heck was that about?” she demanded. “She’s being a complete child.”

The vampire shook his head. “She’s a teen, luv. And she’s been feelin’ a bit left out lately. ‘Magine she was just enjoyin’ everybody here and not dashin’ off like, and then you all have to go and she takes it hard. Give her some time to cool off. She’ll be fine.”

Buffy stared at him. “When did you get so good with her?” she asked.

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. “Spent a lot of time with her these last months, is all. Nothin’ to it really.”

They went downstairs to join the others. Anya, Xander and the rest had decided that Tara would try a releasing spell. Spike thought it was lucky that they had the only practicing witch living at the Summers’, since Willow wouldn’t have had any spell ingredients around. Of course, with their luck, the spell didn’t release them, it released the monster that had somehow been imprisoned inside its own sword. The thing tossed him across the room and managed to give Richard a pretty good slash across the stomach before Buffy arrived to take it down.

Though, in this case “down” meant it disappeared into the floor, and Spike was certain that they hadn’t seen the last of it.

~~~~~

“You ever thought of not celebratin’ a birthday?” Spike asked wryly hours later, after the sun had gone down and they were still stuck inside the house. “Just for a change.”

Buffy shot him a disgruntled look and didn’t reply, looking out the window. “I’m going to check upstairs,” she said. “Stay down here and keep an eye on everything, will you?” she asked, shooting a significant look at Dawn.

He nodded, watching her go, then taking a seat next to Dawn on the couch. “You okay, Niblet?”

“I’m fine,” she said. A noise alarmed her. “What was that? Spike? It sounds like it’s in the walls.”

He took his crutches and quickly got to his feet again. “Dawn, get the crossbow for me. Best be prepared.”

A few minutes passed, as Spike and Dawn stood ready. Suddenly, his sharp ears caught the sounds of a struggle and Xander’s voice. He swung himself toward the noise, crossbow hung around his neck. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. Spike didn’t have much choice besides the bow in his condition, though he wasn’t at all sure the bolt would do anything to it. He fired anyway, relieved when the thing loosened its grip on the carpenter. He was not so relieved when it decided to come after him. Just then Buffy showed up and proceeded to do her best to kick its ass. Not surprisingly, it disappeared back into the woodwork.

Buffy stopped to check on both he and Xander, who was busy comforting Anya. Dawn was still being her sullen self and quickly followed Buffy up the stairs. Spike was trying to decide whether to follow them or not when Anya decided to confront Willow. He was just about to step in when Tara beat him to it, telling the ex-demon in no uncertain terms that Willow was not to be trifled with. Spike took the opportunity to grasp Xander by the arm. “Take care of your girl, Harris,” he said softly. “She’s starting to freak.”

Xander looked like he was going to argue for a minute, and then nodded shortly, following his fiancee as she headed upstairs. Spike turned to look at Tara, where she still stood next to her ex-girlfriend. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, Glinda,” he said with a half-smile. And then he looked over at Willow. “Good on you for sticking to your guns, luv.”

Willow looked at him, startled and grateful. “Thanks, Spike.”

After that, things got hectic again. Dawn came rushing down the stairs, Xander, Anya, and Buffy hot on her heels. Anya had been going through her room and throwing out accusations. All Spike could think was that it was a good thing Dawn had removed all evidence of her sticky fingers. Buffy had protested that it wasn’t Dawn’s fault, she’d been tricked into making some sort of wish. Anya had gone screaming for Halfrek, who happened to be someone Spike would have been just as happy never to have seen again.

Thence followed the usual mayhem and demon fighting until the “justice demon” had finally lifted the curse (having been hoist on her own petard) and everyone finally started leaving. Spike was just happy that he could finally go out to the back porch and have a very well-deserved smoke. Which was where Buffy found him a few hours later.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Fine. You?”

“I’m good.” There was a long pause as she settled down next to him. “Dawn’s in bed. We had a long talk. I think things’ll be better now.”

“Good. That’s good. She’s missed you.”

She was silent, finally looking over at him. “What was that all about tonight? Anya’s friend recognizing you?”

He shook his head. He didn’t really want to explain. That memory was still painful, even now after more than a century. Instead, he reached over next to him and grabbed the thin, brightly wrapped package. “This is for you,” he explained. “The real present, I mean. The shirt was Dawn’s idea.”

“And you were the one who paid for it and took her to get it,” Buffy replied with a smile. “Dawn told me. She also told me what she probably would have done if you hadn’t gone with her, and what Anya probably would have found if you hadn’t said something a while ago.”

He moved his shoulders, embarrassed by her praise, subtle as it was. “Promised I’d look out for her, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” She took the package from his outstretched hand, carefully peeling off the paper. “Oh.” It wasn’t anything that she’d expected. At all. Especially after what she’d done.

He swallowed. “You don’t have to read it,” he said quickly. “Don’t expect you to. I just—I wanted to leave somethin’ behind, somethin’ of myself. There’s stuff in there that you won’t like, but it’s all truth.” He paused, trying to read her expression, but found it impossible. “If you want to read the first bit, it’ll explain how that bint knew me tonight. You’ll get the others as I finish them. I just ask that you don’t throw ‘em away, ‘sall. Other than that, it’s up to you.”

Buffy was stunned into silence. It would be like her handing her diary to Spike and telling him to have fun, like trusting a piece of herself to someone else, one that she had never shown to another. He had put his heart into her hands. “I don’t know that I’ll read it, Spike,” she said, “but I promise I’ll keep it safe.”

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely. “’preciate it.”

Buffy left him after that to go to bed, but the thin journal kept calling to her, egging on her curiosity until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well, just the first part,” she muttered. “Then that’s it.”

It didn’t take two sentences to find out that Halfrek had been Cecily, or Cecily had been Halfrek, that part wasn’t clear. She read of Drusilla’s offer, of Angelus and Darla. And it didn’t take the first paragraph to realize that she was hooked. She read until the first fingers of dawn lit the sky and she had finished the last sentence. There would be more, of course, and she’d read every one that he gave her. It wasn’t so much that it explained who he had been; she’d been fairly clear on that. And she didn’t like most of what she’d read, that was true enough. He’d been a vampire, and had done everything that went along with it. But what impressed her the most was that it wasn’t who he was any longer. Maybe she hadn’t seen it so clearly before, because the change had been so gradual. It was like seeing a friend you hadn’t seen for a very long time and realizing that they’d lost weight, when those who had been there all along never noticed.

But the Spike who slept in her basement—and sometimes in her bed—was completely different from the Spike that first rose. And suddenly she found it didn’t really matter why he had changed, only that he had. She stood and tucked the journal away deep in one of her drawers. Someday, maybe, she’d tell him that she’d read his words, and that they’d touched her, and in spite of herself, had transported her to another place and another time. She should tell him she could hardly wait for the sequel. One of these days anyway.

Buffy entered the house slowly, weariness dogging every step. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, everything seemed to ache. “Buffy?” Spike lay on the couch in the living room, the TV on and a book in hand. “You hungry, luv?”

She sighed. “Starving. Please tell me there’s something to eat.”

“Lasagna,” he replied with a small smile, levering himself up with his crutches that had been propped up next to his head. “Not homemade, but not too bad according to the Bit and Glinda. We saved you a plate.”

Buffy followed him back to the kitchen and gave a sigh of relief as she sat down, letting him wait on her. Nights like this it was easy to let him help her, to let him pull the plate out of the fridge and stick it in the microwave. “Where’s Dawn and Tara?”

“The witch had a study group on campus. Said she’d be back late. Niblet went to the Bronze with Red, said she’d be back by 11.” He looked at her as he set the plate down. “She said you’d be welcome to join them when you got home.”

Buffy shook her head, picking up her fork listlessly. She was almost too tired to eat. “No, I need to get some laundry done. And I need to take care of the trash too.”

“Trash is on the curb. Glinda got the Bit to take it out before she left tonight.”

She smiled. “One less thing to do then, I guess. But I still have the laundry. I think it’s a stay-in night for Buffy.” She gave him a curious look. “How come you’re here?”

He shrugged. “Had a lucky streak the last couple nights,” he explained. “Thought I’d take the night off. Wanted to see you.” This last was said almost shyly, and Buffy found herself smiling. Hard to say no to a face like that, really.

“Well, if you want to watch me do laundry, you can. That’s about all that’s going on tonight though.”

It was perfectly okay with Spike. An hour later, they sat side by side on his cot, listening to the sounds of the washer and dryer, Buffy leaning her head against his shoulder. It was a position that was comfortable for both of them. They sat like that in silence for a while until Buffy looked over at him with a small smile. “So the first girl you fell in love with turned out to be a vengeance demon, huh?”

He glanced down at her, and a self-deprecating smirk graced his features. “Guess so. Didn’t know it till the other day though. You read it.”

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “Yeah, I did. You were right. There was a lot of stuff in there that didn’t make me happy.”

A pained look crossed his face. “I’ve never hidden who I am, Buffy, what I am.”

“I know.” She hesitated. “You’ve changed.”

“S’pose I have,” he agreed. “Still evil though.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Neither one of them moved from their positions. Part of Buffy kept screaming at her, “Evil vampire!” but she was learning to ignore that voice. Evil vampires didn’t help you do laundry. “You ever think about the fact that our love lives are depressingly similar?” she asked.

Spike looked as though he was going to argue for a minute, and then shut his mouth. “When you put it that way, luv, can’t argue with you.”

They shared a look and then Buffy started to giggle. “I mean, me with the vampire, and the government demon hunter, and that prick Parker. And you with a vengeance demon, and Drusilla, and Harmony. Not to mention the Slayer.”

He grinned. “We don’t have the best track record between us, do we?”

“Nope. Just a couple of losers here.” She stared at him. He was looking at her with an expression of utter adoration in his blue eyes. “Why do they always leave, Spike?”

“Because they’re all wankers, luv,” he replied softly. And then, gently, he kissed her. She kissed him back, hungrily, everything else falling away. With Spike there was no past, no future, only now. And now he was with her, and he wasn’t leaving, and she could forget.

~~~~~

Buffy was busy ringing up a check when she looked up to see the last person she’d ever expected. “Riley.”

“Buffy,” he said. “Look, I know this is probably a bad time, but I need you.”

She frowned. There were another two hours to go in her shift, and she couldn’t just leave, not and expect to keep her job. The job that she needed. “You’re right. It’s not the best time.”

“I need the best, Buffy. That means you.”

Deep in her heart she knew Riley wouldn’t have come to her unless he really did need her help. She bit her bottom lip. “Give me a minute.” She went and grabbed one of the other waitresses. “Natalie, I need a huge favor.”

Natalie looked at her and then over at Riley in his commando gear. “What’s wrong, Buffy?”

“I’ve got a family emergency. If you’ll cover my tables for the rest of my shift, I’ll owe you big.”

The other girl hesitated, then asked, “I get your tips?”

Buffy smiled thinly. She needed those tips. Riley was going to cost her big time. “Yeah. In fact, I just rang up the ticket for the corner booth. Tips are all yours.” She clocked out and grabbed her coat. “All right, Riley. What’s the deal?”

She listened as he told her about their problem, and she understood that it was big, but she wasn’t all that happy to see him. She finally felt like her life was on track. She had a decent job, her classes at school were going well, she and Dawn were getting along better. She and Spike were—something. What she didn’t need were added complications from a former boyfriend.

~~~~~

Spike wasn’t sure he wanted to be here for this. It would have been fine if the great Captain Cardboard had showed up while he was making out with the Slayer, or even when she was sleeping all cuddled up next to him as she had last night. He could have gloated then, showed the great git that he had what Finn had told him he’d never get. As it was, he was going to be meeting the other man while he was at a severe disadvantage and even more incapable of defending himself than he had been previously.

But Buffy had insisted he be there, telling him in no uncertain terms to call the rest of the gang and have them meet her at the house. She seemed to think he might have something to contribute. She’d surprised him recently with how she spoke to him, how she touched him. He hadn’t been sure where the change was coming from until she told him she’d read his journal. He’d caught her looking at him speculatively, as though he was a puzzle she was having trouble solving.

Now, however, he waited in the shadows in the kitchen, watching as Buffy entered with Riley and his new bride close behind her. Xander, Willow, and Tara greeted them warmly, though Dawn showed more than a hint of coldness. His Bit didn’t like it when people left. If he had thought to escape unnoticed, however, he was soon disabused of that notion. Riley’s commando eyes easily picked him out of the shadows. “Spike?”

“Caught me, did you?” Spike said, all of his old snark firmly in place. He moved forward with studied casualness. As though he belonged there, as though Riley hadn’t stuck a plastic stake through his chest the last time they’d seen one another.

Riley looked over at Buffy in surprise. “What’s he doing here?” he demanded.

“Spike lives here,” Buffy replied quietly, her face showing no discomfort with her words. She had nothing to be ashamed of, after all. “He helped against Glory and he saved Dawn’s life.” Buffy looked back at him, and he was careful to keep his face blank. The Slayer was beginning to come around, and he didn’t want to bollocks things up.

Riley seemed to feel the same way, because he let it go, though his wife, a tall brunette, gave him a curious stare. Spike listened with a sinking feeling as they described their dilemma with the Suvolte demons and their eggs. He’d been tempted, of course, when the stranger had approached him about using his crypt as a storage facility. The money had been good, and he certainly wasn’t using it. On the other hand, Buffy often checked up on his place, just to make sure everything was still intact for when he could go back. (Neither of them were willing to admit he probably would never go back at this point.) And if he wasn’t around to keep an eye on her and the merchandise, there was no telling what could happen. Especially since he had extraordinarily bad luck.

So, while he had refused use of his crypt, he had provided information on a little-used section of sewer not too far away for a smaller fee. Now, of course, he needed to tell Buffy about his little deal, since he didn’t want her getting hurt or running around unnecessarily, especially if she was going to be doing so with the Soldier Boy. Once they’d decided to split up, Spike eased his way over to Buffy’s side. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Slayer?”

He could tell she was about to refuse, but the look on his face and something in his eyes made it impossible. “Yeah.” She turned to Mrs. Finn. “Give me a sec, okay?”

They moved a few feet away to prevent anyone from overhearing them. “Listen,” he said shortly. “Go to my crypt, the lower level. Take the entrance for the sewers and turn right. ‘Bout a hundred yards up you’ll take the left turn. It’s a dead end. You’ll find what you’re lookin’ for there.”

She stared at him. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but she only nodded. “Thank you. We’ll talk when I get back.”

He watched her go, and he wondered if had ruined things without even meaning to. And yet, how could she be disappointed? She knew what he was, who he was. It shouldn’t surprise her that he might know where the eggs were being kept. It shouldn’t surprise her at all.

~~~~~

With Spike’s directions, she and Sam easily found the demon eggs and managed to destroy them before they started hatching. She hated to think of what would have happened if the vampire hadn’t known where to find them. Whoever stored them in the sewers didn’t know enough to keep them frozen, and they hadn’t been far from hatching. That would have been a rather nasty mess to clean up.

From there, they went to see Riley and Sam off near the Magic Box. Spike wasn’t there, of course, but she hadn’t expected him to be. “Buffy,” Riley said, pulling her aside. “It was good to see you again.”

She managed a genuine smile. “It was good to see you too. Sam seems really great.”

“She is.” He hesitated, his open face pained. “Buffy, I don’t know what’s between you and Spike, but—”

“You’re right,” she replied. “You don’t know.” She looked off into the distance. Riley represented a might-have-been for her. The dream of being normal, of having what every girl dreams of. They had proven that normal wasn’t in the Slayer’s bag of tricks. Normal guys ended up hurt or dead in her line of work, and she couldn’t allow that. She had loved Riley too much. Even not-so-normal guys could get hurt. “Look, Riley, whatever Spike might be, he saved Dawn. He was the only one who promised to protect her, no matter what, and he paid the price.”

Riley nodded slowly. He had known how the vampire had felt about Buffy. It didn’t mean he liked Spike, or liked the fact that he was living at Buffy’s house. But he had proven his devotion to the Slayer, and that counted for something. “For what it’s worth, Buffy, you’re still the first woman I’ve ever loved, and the strongest person I’ve ever known. Whatever you decide, I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“Thanks,” she replied, touched. “You know, I’m sorry about the way things ended.”

“Me too,” Riley said quietly, understanding. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“Same here.” They stared at one another for a long moment, then Buffy stuck out her hand formally. “Good luck in—”

He smiled, taking her hand. “Nepal. I’ll send you a postcard.”

“Good luck in Nepal, Agent Finn. Take care of your wife.” She squeezed him tightly as he pulled her into a hug.

“Good bye, Buffy.” And as she watched him say his farewells to the others, she knew that it was probably the last time she would see him. And while she didn’t begrudge him his happiness, she did wish she could have grabbed just a little bit of the normality he’d seemed to carve out for himself. She couldn’t help but wish for a little bit of that.

~~~~~

He was in his usual spot on the back porch when she came outside. “Did you see Soldier Boy off then?”

“Yes.” There was a certain stiffness in her tone, and he stifled a sigh. It was no less than he had expected. “You knew where the eggs were.”

“Bloke asked if he could use my crypt to store ‘em. Told him no, but gave him directions to a secure place in the sewers. You found them.” He didn’t turn to look at her, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment he knew would be in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you let him use the crypt?”

“Knew you went there and I didn’t know if there’d be a risk. Didn’t want you hurt, y’know?” He did turn to look at her then. “I didn’t know what they were, Buffy. If I had, I’d’ve gone straight to you about ‘em. I don’t want more trouble for you, luv.”

She looked at him, and her disapproval melted under his sincere gaze. This was Spike they were talking about. He wasn’t an international arms dealer, and he didn’t intentionally make trouble for her. At least, not anymore. “I know.”

He watched as she took her place next to him, studied her face, and discovered both weariness and a touch of sadness. “He was a prat, you know.” Earnestness defined his voice and expression. “Mark my words, I’ve seen that type before. They’ll be at each other’s throats before the year is out. Won’t last.”

He got a smile out of her then. “It’s okay, Spike. It worked out for the best.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. I wasn’t sorry to see him go, that’s for sure, ‘specially after he staked me. Stupid git.”

Buffy looked over at him in surprise. “He staked you?”

“Plastic one.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I don’t think I’m gonna ask.”

“Can I ask you a question?” His tone was tentative, unusual for him. He was typically all cocky boldness.

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me to stay down in the basement?” There was nothing but insecurity in his blue eyes, and it shocked her. “You could have, y’know. Captain Cardboard wouldn’t have had to know about me stayin’ with you.”

She hesitated, unsure of what to tell him. Of how much to tell him. “Whatever has happened in the past, Spike, you’ve earned your place here. And it’s not in the basement. Wherever we go from here, we’re friends. William.” Gingerly, almost shyly, she reached over and took his hand. In some ways, it was more intimate than their make-out session from the previous night.

For Spike’s part, he couldn’t help but stare at her, at their joined hands. It was the first time she had promised him a part of herself, a place by her side. She had promised to get him back on his feet, but that had been gratitude, nothing more. This was something else entirely. It was almost love. Maybe not what he felt for her, but it was something. It was a place to start. Unable to speak, he felt the lump in his throat and the tears burning his eyes. Stupid, really. “Bugger me,” he muttered. With his free hand, he reached over and brushed her hair away from her face. “Friends.” And they sat on the porch until the sun’s first rays lit the sky, hand in hand.

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