Spike looked around the dingy apartment with a sinking feeling. It was small and dark, unfurnished and cramped. It was also what he could afford. He would have to find furniture somewhere, though at least it came with appliances. The walls could use a good painting—if he could afford the paint. But really, did he have a choice if he wanted to get out of Giles’ place?

He turned to face the landlord, who definitely looked like he could audition for the role of slumlord in a B movie. “I’ll take it,” Spike said quietly. “When can I move in?”

~~~~~

“Okay. So we’re all here,” Buffy said, looking around the room. It was supposed to be a council of war about Adam, and she’d thought everyone was coming. “Wait a second. We’re not all here. Where’s Spike?”

As though her words summoned him, the front door opened, and he slipped inside, giving everyone an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘m late,” he said. “Got a bit caught up.”

“Now we’re all here,” Buffy stated, wanting to get down to business. Riley had finally showed up, and they had reconnected. She wasn’t sure how he and Spike were going to react to one another, but she had managed to convince Riley to lay off. Judging from first impressions, Spike’s modus operandi was going to be ignoring the soldier, since he went over and perched on the stairs, on the fringe of things. For some reason that bothered her, just as much as Spike’s obvious fatigue did. She reminded herself to ask Giles for an update, since the ex-vampire didn’t seem to be into sharing information at this point.

“We need to come up with a plan for how we’re going to deal with Adam,” Buffy stated.

“The question seems to me to be why he’s been dormant for so long,” Giles commented.

Willow looked over at him. “When he’s not making performance art out of other demons, that is.”

Spike tried to pay attention as Riley talked about power sources and charging up, and the rest of them discussed what they were going to do about the Initiative. He was somewhat relieved to know that Riley would be playing double agent, since it meant that he wasn’t completely working for the dark side. Buffy seemed to be doing her best to reassure him that the Initiative would not be coming after him again. The disorganization that had followed Walsh’s death and Adam’s escape seemed to insure that they wouldn’t be concerned about one ex-vampire.

But when Buffy starting acting all love-bird-like, Spike had to look away. For a second, he thought he saw a face at the window, and then dismissed it as a delusion. He wasn’t sleeping at all well of late, and exhaustion was beginning to be an ever-present companion. Before, when he wasn’t working, he could catch cat-naps through the day, but now his sleeping hours were more limited. And he wasn’t sleeping.

The general idea behind the conversation seemed to be that they didn’t know what they wanted to do about Adam, and Riley would pass along what information he could. Spike wasn’t sure why he needed to be there, except that he was supposed to be sleeping on the couch, which was currently occupied.

He was startled into a more wakeful state by the ringing of the phone, and he watched from his vantage point as Buffy’s face changed dramatically at what the caller said. “What is it?” Giles asked, before Spike could ask the same question.

“It’s Faith,” Buffy replied. “She’s awake.”

It was late before they all left. Spike, even in the midst of his tired fog, was amused at Willow’s hearty support of an ass-kicking for the rogue Slayer. She wasn’t usually so bloodthirsty. Buffy needed to give her boyfriend details of the new threat, and the rest of them needed to go home, which left him with the Watcher.

“Who is Faith?” Spike asked quietly. “I remember hearin’ a bit about her, but not much.”

Giles gave him the details as he made a pot of tea for the both of them—herbal, though, with a bit extra thrown in to aid sleep. Spike looked as though he could use a few dozen hours worth. “Faith was badly injured by Buffy, and has been in a coma ever since,” the Watcher said, finishing his tale. “I do feel a certain sympathy for her. She has had a very difficult time of it. But she made her choices, and they were certainly poor ones. I’m afraid she is going to be a great deal of trouble, at a time we can ill afford it.”

Spike nodded. “An’ if I see her?”

“Let one of us know,” the other man replied. “There’s no point in you putting yourself in danger. Faith is not a force to be trifled with.”

“Right.” There was a pause. “Thought I’d let you know, I found an apartment today. Move in next week.”

Giles froze, his teacup halfway to his mouth, and then he proceeded to sip as though he hadn’t been surprised at all. “I had wondered when you might move out.”

Spike shrugged. “’s not much, but it’ll do. Just need a place to crash, really.”

“You do know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Giles said sincerely. “If you would prefer to wait and find something better when you can—”

“No,” Spike said firmly. “I ‘preciate everything you’ve done, Rupert. More than I can say. But I need a place of my own. Need to not worry ‘bout wakin’ you up in the middle of the night.” He was referring to the several nights in the past week that he had woken Giles with his screaming. His near-miss with the Initiative didn’t make for restful nights. Of course, neither did his past.

Giles frowned. “I don’t mind that, Spike.” He hesitated, not knowing how to reassure without sounding condescending. “This is a difficult time for you, I know. I have a suspicion that it will be a long time before you can sleep soundly. But it won’t help to isolate yourself.”

“’m not isolating myself,” Spike said, somewhat defensively. “I just need some space. Bein’ around—” He stopped, not wanting to give himself away.

“I see,” Giles said, and he did see. For all his reserve, he saw a great deal at times. “Then perhaps it is for the best. I will, of course, give you any help you need.”

Spike shook his head. “Don’t have much, so I won’t need much. Should be able to make it in one trip in the DeSoto.”

“So you did get it fixed?” Giles asked with a smile.

Spike nodded. “Got the parts. Should be able to fix it tomorrow afternoon. Won’t take long.”

There was something he wasn’t saying, but Giles didn’t want to press, didn’t want to force him to say things he wasn’t ready to say yet. “No. Well, if you do need assistance…”

“Thanks,” was all Spike would say, and then they both went to bed soon after, Giles certain that all was not right, and unable to think of anything he could do about it.

~~~~~

“So tell me what we’re s’posed to be doin’ again?” Spike asked as he, Giles and Xander wandered down the main streets of Sunnydale the following evening. He knew, of course, that they were supposed to be looking for the other Slayer, but what they were supposed to do with her when and if they found her was a little more unclear.

Giles gave him a disapproving look, obviously not thinking much of Spike’s attempts at levity. “We are looking for Faith.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, as though speaking to a very young child. “But what are we supposed to do when we find her?”

“I say we run,” Xander stated. “I mean, who’s she going to come after first? Me.”

Giles and Spike rolled their eyes in unison. They’d both already heard Xander’s theories and suppositions about how the girl had it in for him since they’d slept together once. In some ways, Spike felt sorry for the boy. Not that he would ever say it, but it was always better when your first time wasn’t a traumatic experience. “I’m sure,” Spike said drily.

They walked another block, and then Spike asked, “So how long we gonna be out here, anyway?”

“Why?” Xander asked snidely. “Do you have a hot date?”

“No,” Spike said, somewhat defensively. “Just would like to get some sleep sometime tonight, that’s all.” He reassured himself by thinking of Laura’s phone number, still tucked away, but he wasn’t fooling himself. While he might be tempted to try and have a thing, just to get his mind off Buffy and her boyfriend, he wasn’t ready for that. Using someone didn’t seem right, and he didn’t think he was that kind of guy. At least, he didn’t want to be that kind of guy.

And as nice as Laura might be, he couldn’t tell her why the nightmares were plaguing him, why he couldn’t sleep for more than an hour or two every night, why sometimes the guilt pressed down so hard he could barely breathe. None of that was something an ordinary person might understand. Giles would, but Spike felt like he’d burdened the other man enough already. Buffy might, but she was completely taken up by her boyfriend again. Willow was a good listener, but she was entranced with Tara. And Xander didn’t even bear mentioning.

Not for the first time since becoming human did Spike feel completely alone, unable to unburden himself to anyone. Even Joyce, as kind as she was, could only do so much. Still, perhaps he ought to talk to her again. She did seem to have a calming effect on him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Xander’s voice. “Okay, let’s call it a night already. I don’t think Faith is wanting to be found right now.”

Giles, who was casting careful looks at Spike’s deeply lined face, nodded. “I don’t think we’re going to do anyone much good tonight. We might as well leave off.”

Xander soon left to go his own way, undoubtedly to find his girlfriend, even as Giles and Spike walked back towards the apartment. Their relationship over the last weeks had progressed beyond the point of awkward silences, so that there was no real need to talk, but both felt as though something were off. Giles knew that Spike was wrestling with things he could not speak about, and Spike knew he knew, and so was afraid to open his mouth for fear he’d let something slip.

When they reached the apartment, neither man broke the silence. Giles unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for Spike to precede him. Spike flipped the lights on and saw three rather rough looking characters sitting in the living room, making themselves comfortable.

“Rupert.” Collins greeted him calmly. “Nice to see you again.”

Giles froze for a moment, uncomfortable, and worried for Spike. While his roommate was human, and therefore no longer under the Council’s jurisdiction, the ex-Watcher had long since ceased to completely trust the Council and those attached to it. They had no understanding of what it meant to be out in the field. They also had a distressingly black-and-white view of things. Giles had no idea of whether or not their policy wouldn’t be much like the Initiative’s: once a demon, always a demon.

“I wish I could say the same,” he replied after a beat.

Collins smiled, noting both Giles’ and his friend’s expressions of concern. Unwilling to let an opportunity for a jibe to slip by, he said, “I didn’t realize you’d taken up buggery in your old age.”

“Sod off,” Giles replied sharply, rudely, and not much caring.

One of the other men, Smith, who had been leaning up against the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, answered, “I’m afraid that’s not possible. We’ve been sent to retrieve your rogue Slayer.”

“As I recall,” Giles replied coldly, “she’s not mine. I was replaced by a man of the Council’s choosing. And you failed to contain her once before.”

“As I recall,” Collins said, deliberately echoing Giles’ phrasing, “we weren’t the ones who were sent to retrieve her. If we had been, she would have been in custody right now.”

Giles gritted his teeth, hating that the Council’s wetworks team could make him feel uncomfortable in his own home. “Very well. What do you want from me?”

“We want your word you will not try to interfere,” Collins replied, Weatherby and Smith staring sullenly. They looked as though they would get a great deal of enjoyment if Spike or Giles did decide to be uncooperative.

Giles looked over at Spike, who was keeping his face carefully blank. It was obvious that he felt the danger, just as he felt the danger around the Initiative soldiers. “I have no problem with the Council’s decision to attempt rehabilitation in England. I would ask that you make every effort to bring the girl in alive, however.”

“Of course,” Collins agreed, too easily. Giles wondered how willing they would be to kill Faith if they had problems with her. Or even if they believed there were potential problems. Collins stood, and the other two men fell into step behind him as he walked out the door. “Take care, Rupert.”

Giles looked over at Spike to see what his reaction to the conversation was. Spike had a sardonic little smile on his face. “They won’t manage her.”

“What makes you say that?” Giles was curious as to Spike’s impression, though he couldn’t say that he disagreed with the assessment necessarily.

Spike turned to Giles, and there was a glint to his eyes. “Too cocky. To kill a Slayer, you have to know your quarry. They have no bloody clue.”

At Giles’ raised eyebrows, Spike’s lips twitched upwards. “Oh, I was cocky,” he admitted. “But I knew what I was getting m’self into. I knew that every Slayer has a death wish. An’ I think to kill a Slayer, you’ve got to have a bit of one yourself. Both of you have to be alright with dyin’. And one’s goin’ to want it more.”

“And Faith?” Giles asked.

Spike shrugged. “Never havin’ met the chit, I’d say I don’t know enough to figure that one out. Chances are, she wants to die a bit, but she prob’ly doesn’t want to be taken out by the likes of those blokes. She’ll kick their arses good and proper, an’ if she’s as bad as you lot seem to think, she’ll prob’ly kill them while she’s at it.”

He stood and went to grab a jacket. “Where are you off to?” Giles asked, curious. Spike really didn’t look as though he were in any condition to be going anywhere. Besides which, the younger man hadn’t seemed to have any desire to go out earlier.

Spike shrugged into the jacket and glanced back over at Giles. “’m feelin’ a bit antsy after that visit,” he replied quietly. “Think I need to go relax a bit before I can sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” Giles just shook his head in reply. He had learned by now that there was no point in arguing with him. Spike would simply fall on his face after a while out of exhaustion. Some people had to learn the hard way.

~~~~~

Spike wasn’t sure the Bronze was exactly the relaxing atmosphere he needed, but where else was there to go in a place like Sunnydale? In any case, he needed a little more than doctored tea to put him to sleep at nights. And while he wouldn’t have minded drinking himself into oblivion, that kind of activity was simply too expensive.

A couple bottles of piss-poor beer put him in a slightly better mood, however. At least it took the edge off, and he could let himself drift in the music and the noise. Mostly he just watched the people passing, pretending for a moment that he was a vampire again. Who would he hunt? Who would he choose for an evening’s pleasure? Spike shook those thoughts off with a feeling of guilt. He shouldn’t be remembering those times with any pleasure at all. He had killed people, and he had enjoyed it. That wasn’t who he was anymore. More importantly, it wasn’t who he wanted to be. Yet that didn’t mean he didn’t miss it sometimes.

“Hey, Spike!” Willow said brightly. She and Tara were standing in front of his secluded corner, and both girls were giving him bright smiles. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” he replied, with a bit of a smile. “You two look cheerful.”

“We just got back from Giles’,” Willow explained. “Or, I did, anyway. Faith is now safely in police custody.”

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “Who managed that and how?”

“Buffy, and pretty much the usual way. Faith showed up at Buffy’s house and threatened Mrs. Summers, and then Buffy showed up and kicked her ass. They called the police, and that was that.” Willow paused. “Though, Giles seemed to think that the Council would have taken her by now.”

“They probably did,” Spike said. “Not blokes to wait on anything. Remains to be seen if they can actually keep a handle on her. I take it you girls are out for the evening?”

“Tara hadn’t ever been to the Bronze before!” Willow exclaimed, plopping down beside him. “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”

“You two?” Spike replied gallantly, reserving a special smile for Tara. “Never.” He let them chat for a bit around him, comfortable in their presence as always. They never made him feel as though he didn’t belong, and it was nice that they were with each other. It took the pressure off, and made both of them safe to be friends with, not having to worry about the attraction piece. “Think I’m going to have one more,” he said, standing after a while. “You two want anything?”

“Not right now,” Willow replied. “Maybe in a little while. Tara?”

“Just some w-water, if you d-don’t mind,” she said, so quietly Spike could barely hear her over the crowd.

“Certainly, m’lady,” he said, making her blush and Willow giggle. He made his way through the crowd to the bar. Hesitating slightly, he pulled out his glasses from his pocket. They had been another one of those expenses that couldn’t be put off. Trying to read the fine print on invoices and other documents had been giving him massive headaches. The glasses helped. They also helped him to read the print on the menu above the bar so he could see if he had a better choice of beer.

Spike placed his order and paid, then turned to head back towards Tara and Willow, bumping into someone rather hard. “Hey!” he protested as both water and beer spilled. The other person had obviously not been watching where they were going.

“Watch it,” she replied, and Spike looked down to see Buffy standing in front of him.

“Buffy,” he replied, his anger draining away. “Out celebratin’ your victory then?”

She looked confused for a second, and then said, “Uh, yeah, that’s right. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” Spike returned. There was something that seemed off about her. The way she tilted her head, or the way she moved, or something. “Just tryin’ to relax so I can actually sleep at night.”

Buffy (Faith) was still giving him a funny look, and then she suddenly seemed to figure out whatever was puzzling her. “Right. Spike. The faces of all those people you killed keeping you awake at night, now that you’re good?” Faith had gotten hints of what had happened earlier that evening at Giles’ when Willow had asked where he was. She had also seen him when she was peeking in the window, spying on the gang.

Spike stared at the Slayer. Her tone was harsh, mocking. Cruel. For some reason she had decided to go back to treating him as she had when he had first become human. “Somethin’ like that,” he ground out, moving to get around her.

“What, leaving already?” Faith asked, her lips tilting up in a small, smug smile. “Come on, Spike. We could have some fun. Lose the glasses and you could be pretty hot. As it is, they make you look like a wuss.”

Spike resisted the urge to yank the glasses off his face, trying once again to get around her. “But wait,” Faith said. “You know, I could still show you some things. I bet I could tap into that monster again.” She ran a finger down his chest. “Wouldn’t it be fun? To play Slayer and Vampire again, Spike? Wouldn’t you just love that?”

It was too close to his thoughts of earlier. Much too close. “Excuse me,” he said, heading back to the bar, ignoring her laughter. He had spilled Tara’s water. He needed to get a refill. He stood there for a long time, trying to get his composure. Spike thought he and Buffy were getting somewhere. She had been so gentle the other day, so—

That wasn’t Buffy. Spike blinked as he realized it. Not that he had any kind of proof, but that wasn’t Buffy, he was certain of it. He gulped down the rest of his beer and grabbed Tara’s water, heading back towards where they had been sitting. Willow was nowhere to be seen, but Buffy was sitting across from Tara, and from the look on the shy girl’s face, their meeting wasn’t going well. Spike could only imagine what not-Buffy was saying to her, judging by what she had said to him.

“Hello again,” Spike said to Buffy, or whatever was impersonating her, letting a touch of ice creep into his tone. He handed Tara’s glass to her. “You alright, luv?”

“I’m fine,” she managed. Spike knew they needed to get out of there without alerting the Slayer. If she thought they knew what was going on, it could get ugly.

Willow came up just then and started talking with not-Buffy, while Spike leaned in close to Tara. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked in a low tone. “I’m afraid she’s a bit of a bitch tonight.”

Tara gave him a wan smile. “She was, but I’m okay. Except, Spike, that’s not—” She glanced up at not-Buffy, who was looking at something Willow had pointed out. The Slayer headed off in that general direction, for which Spike could only be grateful. Something about the girl made him terribly uneasy.

“I know,” he replied, putting a hand on her arm to keep her from finishing. “We’ll get Red an’ get out of here. We need to find out what’s going on.” In a louder voice, he said, “Red, Tara’s not feelin’ well. Why don’t we get the two of you home?”

Willow frowned, immediately concerned. “Sure. Buffy was going to go take care of a vamp, but we can let her know and get out of here.”

When not-Buffy got back, Willow let her know that she was taking Tara home. “Spike’s going to walk with us,” she added.

“Oh, really?” not-Buffy asked, a snide tone in her voice. “Well, you guys give her whatever she needs.”

Willow asked her something about Riley, but Spike wasn’t paying much attention to her answer. He was more interested in leaving. Quickly.

Spike managed to hustle both women outside, hovering protectively in between them. He wanted to be well away from the Slayer before they started talking about the fact that something was inhabiting Buffy’s body that wasn’t Buffy.

They were well away from the Bronze when Willow said apologetically, “I’m sorry you’re feeling all blechy, but we can get together with Buffy some other time. I think you’ll like her.”

Spike and Tara exchanged a look. “She’s not your friend,” Tara said.

“Okay, I think I might have overestimated the liking,” Willow said slowly.

Spike shook his head. “That’s not it, Red. She’s not Buffy.”

Willow stopped short and stared at them. “What do you mean?”

Frustrated, Spike replied, “I don’t know. But that’s not Buffy.” He looked at Tara for support.

Tara nodded slowly. “He’s right, Willow. A-a person’s energy has a flow, a unity. Buffy’s was—was fragmented. It—it grated, like something forced in where it doesn’t belong. Plus, she—she was kind of mean.”

“She was a right royal bitch,” Spike snorted. “Not that she hasn’t treated me like crap before, but ‘ve never known her to give that kind of treatment to one of your friends, Red.”

Willow considered that for a moment. “So you think Buffy’s not herself? Like she’s been possessed or something?”

“I don’t know,” Tara confessed, and Spike shrugged, indicating his own cluelessness.

“You didn’t get a sense of hyena energy did you?” Willow asked urgently. “Because hyena possession is just unpleasant.”

Tara looked pensive. “If you have something of hers, there might be something we could try. You know, to figure out what happened. It—it’s dangerous, but…”

“Worth it,” Willow said. “If something’s wrong with Buffy, it’s worth it. And I trust you.” She looked over at Spike. “What are you going to do?”

“’m goin’ to see if I can’t find that other Slayer, Faith? This started with her. Buffy was jus’ fine before all this started.” Spike looked grim. “Where did Buffy say she was goin’ to be?”

“With Riley.” Willow frowned slightly. “But if the Council has her—”

Spike considered that for a moment. He didn’t think the soldier would be in any danger from her, unless whatever took over Buffy’s body was a succubus. Of course, even if she was, no skin off his nose. “Giles might be able to find out where they’re holdin’ her,” he said. “’sides, those blokes didn’t look like they were into babysittin’ a Slayer all that much. Be a right shame if it turns out we need the other girl to make this right an’ all we have is a dead body.”

“No kidding,” Willow grimaced. “I guess Tara and I will meet you back at Giles as soon as we get this figured out.” As Spike started off down the street, Willow called out after him, “Oh, and Spike?” He turned and looked at her. “I like the glasses. They look good.”

Spike smiled sheepishly. He’d forgotten he had them on. He gave a small wave and then loped off down the street towards Giles’ place.

~~~~~

Giles came awake slowly to find Spike shaking his shoulder insistently. “Rupert, wake up.”

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled, as Spike flipped on the bedside lamp.

“’s Buffy,” Spike said without preamble. He didn’t think they had time for niceties, not when Buffy’s life could be at stake.

That woke Giles up. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘alright,’” Spike said. “Ran into her at the Bronze. ‘Least it looked like her, but it wasn’t Buffy. Don’t know what’s goin’ on, but Tara was sure somethin’ was wrong too. Somethin’ about her energy bein’ fragmented, an’ the girl should know. She’s a grade-A witch.”

Giles’ sleep-fuddled mind tried to decipher what Spike was trying to tell him. “You ran into Buffy at the Bronze, but you don’t think it was really her?”

“It’s not her,” Spike insisted.

Giles shook his head. “Forgive me, Spike, but I’m not certain that—”

“Trust me,” Spike pleaded. “Somethin’ is goin’ on with the Slayer. I think we need to find that other one, Faith. She’s where it all started. Buffy was fine earlier tonight.”

Giles thought for a moment, thought about the Council’s wetworks team and what he knew of them, thought about Spike’s success in past weeks helping with research and other things. In the end, trusting the ex-vampire was something of a no-brainer, as Buffy might say. “I know someone who might be able to help,” Giles stated. “Let me get dressed and make a phone call. I’ll see what I can do.”

Spike paced the small living room, waiting for Giles to get the information they needed. The small voice in the back of his head that told him something was wrong was growing more alarmed by the second. What if something really had happened to Buffy? What if they needed Faith to get her back? What if Faith was already dead?

“I’ve found where they’re holding her,” Giles said from behind him. “You do realize that they will not be pleased at our showing up, don’t you?”

Spike shrugged. “Good for them.”

Satisfied, Giles gave a Ripper-like smile. Sometimes he thought Spike brought out the worst in him. Or perhaps it was the best… “Then we’ll need weapons. How good a shot are you?”

“’m good,” Spike said easily. “I can hit what ‘m aimin’ at anyway.”

Giles disappeared for a moment and came back carrying a tranquilizer rifle. “Very good. We might need this for Faith, as well as the Council’s team.” He tossed the rifle to Spike and came up with a sword for himself. “Very good. Let’s go, then.”

~~~~~

Buffy was not having a good time. And that was about the understatement of the year. There was a small—very small—part of her that almost felt sorry for Faith. Her sister Slayer would have been at the mercy of these goons if they hadn’t switched bodies, and Buffy was rapidly coming to hate them.

Of course, whatever sympathy she might have felt was swallowed up in the sense of violation. It was worse than what she imagined rape might be like since everything had been taken from her. Unless she could get herself out of this mess, everyone would go on believing that Buffy was out there and Faith was in the hands of the Council. To further muddle matters, she had the sinking sensation that the men who had grabbed her would have no qualms about getting her good and dead. And no one would ever know.

They wouldn’t come near her again, her previous actions had made certain of that, so she would have to find some other way to prevent being killed. They would probably try to shoot her. Buffy stretched out as far as she could go, feeling grateful for Faith’s slightly longer legs. It would make it that much easier to disarm whatever hand came through the small, barred window in the back of the van.

The gun came through as expected, but before Buffy could even move, she heard the sounds of a struggle, and a familiar voice that said, “I’d drop that if I were you, mate. Unless you want me to drop you.”

The hand withdrew, taking the gun with it, there was a heavy thump, and Buffy waited with bated breath until the doors opened to reveal Spike. In glasses? She threw off the momentary confusion that sight brought. “Spike! I’m glad you’re here. You have to believe me. Faith switched. I mean, she had some device that switched our bodies, and—”

“I know.” Spike was looking rather amused at this point, even as he searched the body of the unconscious man. He found the keys and climbed in the back of the van to unlock the shackles.

“Wait a minute,” Buffy said, staring at him. “You know?”

Spike gave her a smug little smile. “Well, I knew Buffy wasn’t herself when I saw her earlier tonight. Didn’t know you were Buffy though till just now. Nobody says m’name like you do.” He paused. “Though, I have to tell you, the body-switchin’ thing? Just a bit confusin’ for all parties involved.”

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Buffy suddenly felt safer than she had since she found out Faith had awoken from her coma. Here was someone who saw her, who knew her. It was a tremendously reassuring feeling. “We have to get out of here,” she said. “I need to find Faith so I can get my body back.”

“Right,” Spike replied, finishing unlocking the cuffs. “Do me a favor, find the keys to this monstrosity while I tell Giles what we’re up to. He’s out guardin’ the front in case someone else comes.”

“Didn’t you guys drive out here?” Buffy asked.

Spike gave the unconscious body a pointed look before he started to drag it off to the side with him. “You really want to leave these wankers with transportation?”

She saw his point. “I’ll find the keys.”

Spike insisted on driving, and Buffy had to admit he was probably better at it than she was. Of course, he’d also been driving longer than she’d been alive. He pulled the van up in front of Giles’ apartment, the DeSoto was already parked out front, and they went inside. Giles jumped a little at seeing what looked like Faith walking around free.

“’s okay, Rupert,” Spike said reassuringly. “Faith an’ Buffy switched bodies. This is Buffy.”

Giles didn’t look at all convinced. “Spike, I don’t think you realize Faith’s deviousness. Now, I think it might be better if we just tied Faith up for right now. At least until Willow gets here with the results of that spell you were telling me about.”

Spike rolled his eyes, about to say something before Buffy interrupted him. “Giles! It’s me, Buffy! You turned into a demon, and I knew it was you by your eyes. Can’t you just look into my eyes, and—and do that intuition thing?”

“How did I become a demon?” Giles asked, his eyes narrowing.

Buffy thought for a second. “Ooh! ‘Cause, uh, Ethan Rayne turned you into a demon. And you have a girlfriend named Olivia. You haven’t had a job since we blew up the high school—which is valid, lifestyle-wise. I mean, it’s not like you’re a slacker-type. Oh, oh! When I had psychic power, I heard my mom think that you were like a stevedore during sex.” At the look on Giles’ face, she paused briefly. “Do you want me to continue?”

“Actually, I beg you to stop,” Giles said, trying not to blush.

Spike’s eyes had almost bugged out of his head, and he stared at Giles. “You slept with Joyce?” He turned back to Buffy. “When the bloody hell did that happen?”

“Band candy,” she replied briefly. “I promise, I’ll tell you the whole story later. Right now, we need to find Faith. My body could be in Mexico for all I know.”

“Not in Mexico,” Spike replied, slightly uncomfortable with his knowledge of precisely where Buffy’s body probably was.

Buffy frowned. “Where?”

“With Riley,” he mumbled, and looked for shelter. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t be too happy with that information.

Buffy shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t think Faith would hurt him, and he’d know it wasn’t really me. Right? Because you guys knew it wasn’t me.”

Spike didn’t have a chance to tell her that no, actually, it was only him and a girl she’d never met before that actually knew. Willow came in through the front door, followed closely by Tara.

Buffy looked over at her. “Willow, wait. You know what’s going on right?”

“You’re Buffy,” Willow replied calmly. “You and Faith switched bodies, probably through a Draconian katra spell.”

“She knows more than I do,” Giles muttered.

Willow looked over at Tara. “This is Tara. She helped me figure out what spell we needed to switch you back. She’s a really powerful witch.” Tara waved shyly and muttered a disclaimer. “Anyway, we conjured a katra. It should switch you back if you can get your hands on Faith.”

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. “Great. So we just have to find Faith now.”

“Call the Finn,” Spike suggested. “She might still be with him.”

“I’ll do it,” Willow offered, handing the box containing the katra to Giles. “Riley probably wouldn’t tell a strange person about Buffy’s whereabouts anyway.”

Willow made the quick call, and then hung up, shaking her head. “He said she left while he was still asleep.”

“Now how are we going to find her?” Buffy demanded. “She has my body, and I want it back.”

The phone rang again, and this time Giles answered it. “Hello?…Uh, yes. Actually, Buffy’s here with me. She’s, uh, she’s—oh, alright.” He hung up. “Xander,” he explained. “He said to turn on the news.”

They turned it on to the middle of a segment on a hostage situation. It was clear from the information the newswoman was passing along that it was a vampire related attack. “Unusual,” Spike commented, almost to himself. “For it to be in the middle of the day, an’ in the church like that? Somethin’s wrong with that picture.”

“Something is always wrong with this picture,” Buffy grumbled. “I need to save a bunch of people from vampires in the middle of the day, and I’m in the wrong body.” She sighed. What she really wanted to do was to chase Faith down and make her pay, after she got her own body back. But she was the Slayer, no matter what she looked like, and she had people to save. “We’ll just have to find Faith later,” she said. “We’d better get out there before the vamps get tired of playing and decide to eat everybody.”

~~~~~

They took the van because it was the only vehicle that would hold all of them. Giles and Spike stayed up front while the girls rode in the back, none of them wanting Buffy to be seen, especially while her present face was on wanted posters.

Pulling up in front of the church, they were met by a sergeant who was busy telling them that they shouldn’t be there. Buffy looked over at Giles and Spike, who had scrambled out of the van to join them. Both men got her signal, but it was Spike who took her cue. “You have to let me in,” he said, frantically. He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from; he hadn’t been that great of a liar even when he was a vampire and evil, but he decided to go with it. “My fiancée is in there. I was supposed to meet her this morning.”

At this point, he could see that Buffy had managed to get around the barricade and was headed toward the front of the church, and he allowed Giles and Willow to hold him back. “Please, I just need to be sure she’s okay.” His acting job must have been pretty good, since the sergeant’s face was beginning to show a reluctant sympathy. Giles pulled him back further.

“William, we must stay back and let this police do their job.” Giles’ acting abilities were not so stellar. “I’m certain they’ll notify us as soon as they know something.”

Spike let himself be led off, far enough away that the sergeant decided to leave the small group alone. He did not, however, have to feign the worried look on his face. Buffy was in there, and she was alone, against who knew how many vampires. It wasn’t that he doubted the Slayer’s ability to take care of herself, but he found that at some point she had somehow taken up residence in his heart. The faint stirrings of passion he had tried to quell had burst into full flame, and he had given over a hostage to fortune.

When Buffy, the real Buffy, emerged some time later, he knew she had been successful, both in destroying the vampires and in getting her own body back. The device Willow had given her earlier had apparently worked like the charm it was. She walked and moved and gestured like Buffy did. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him that. And Riley was just a couple steps behind her.

Spike turned away to look at Giles. “What time is it?”

Giles tore his eyes away from his Slayer to look over at Spike. “Pardon—oh.” He checked his watch. “Quarter of ten.”

“I’d better get goin’ then,” Spike said, infinitely weary. At Giles’ frown, he explained. “’m s’posed to be at the gallery by 11, an’ I still have to clean up and such.”

“I’m sure Joyce would understand your not coming in,” Giles protested.

“You speakin’ from your intimate knowledge of the lady?” Spike asked with a sly grin, which only widened at Giles’ glare.

“You’re not going to let me forget about that are you?”

“Maybe after a while,” Spike allowed. From the look on his face, the Watcher knew the subject was closed. Spike would be going into the gallery, and that was all there was to it.

Giles sighed. “Well, let’s get out of here then.” He glanced back to where Buffy and Riley were talking. “I don’t believe we’re needed here anymore.”

~~~~~

Spike made it to the gallery on time, though Joyce didn’t look all that happy to see him. “Spike! You look like death warmed over.”

“Sleepless night,” he explained, not wanting to go into more detail. If Joyce knew how sleepless it had been, she would probably send him home, and he needed the money. “But look at you,” he said, referring to the shiner she was sporting. “While we were out bein’ useless, you were stoppin’ a Slayer’s fist with your face.”

“I’m fine,” Joyce insisted. “Buffy showed up before she had a chance to do much.” She let him tilt her face with a gentle hand so he could see the damage.

Spike looked at her with regret. “You sure you’re alright? I can handle things on my own today if you want to leave.”

“Thank you, William, but I really am okay,” Joyce said gently.

He smiled. “Well, that’s good.” Spike let the silence stretch on, and then said quietly, “I found an apartment.” He had told Joyce about his search before anyone else. She was the one he had asked about where to look, the one who had explained renters’ agreements and security deposits. He hadn’t felt comfortable asking Giles, for fear he would seem ungrateful.

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Near the campus a bit more. Off Elm.”

Joyce knew the apartments he was talking about. She also knew that they weren’t all that pleasant. She kept her tone neutral, however, knowing that there were some things you had to do on your own, including getting your first apartment. “When do you move?”

“Next week sometime,” he said. Spike looked over at her, a self-deprecating look on his face. “Thought I’d give you the address anyway. Won’t have a phone for a while.”

Joyce nodded, concerned, but she still said nothing. She merely made a note to herself to be certain to fix Spike care packages for his new apartment, disguised as extra food she couldn’t eat. There were ways to get around pride.

They worked in a comfortable silence after that, Joyce up front and Spike in the back with the books. He had never liked math when he was a human, preferring instead the warm passion of poetry. Spike still liked poetry; he always had, even after he had been turned. William had never completely left him in that regard. Even so, numbers seemed soothing now, requiring precision and concentration, but no emotion. He was too full of emotion these days, and the cold demands of numbers allowed him to not think, not feel, for a while.

Spike lost himself in the dullness of exhaustion and routine until Joyce called him back to his senses. “Spike?”

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway of the small office, Buffy standing behind her. “I’m going to take off. You’ll lock up?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, his eyes never leaving Buffy. Belatedly, he realized that he was still wearing his glasses, and quickly pulled them off. “Hey. How’re you feelin’?”

Buffy smiled. “I’m alright.”

“And Faith?”

She came to stand inside the office, and Spike started to rise to give her his chair. Buffy waved him back. “Don’t get up. And Faith’s gone, no trace. Same with the Council guys.”

“Not surprised there,” Spike replied, the traces of a smirk playing around his lips. It was an expression Buffy hadn’t seen on his face for a very long time.

She hesitated. “I wanted to thank you this morning, but you took off before I got a chance.”

“For what?” Spike was clearly confused.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “For starters, coming after me, for figuring it out, quite possibly for saving my life.”

Spike shrugged it off. “Tara knew as much as I did, luv,” he replied uneasily. “An’ you’re the Slayer. You’d have gotten yourself out of there.”

Buffy shook her head. “Maybe, but you knew, Spike.” The silence hung between them. “Can I ask you a question?” When Spike nodded uncertainly, she said, “How did you know? That I wasn’t me, anyway. Willow said you and Tara figured it out, but that no one else even had a clue.”

Spike shifted in his chair uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. “Dunno,” he said. “S’pose—I guess you were cruel.” He still wasn’t looking at her. “You’ve been—you were cruel to Tara, an’ I’ve never seen you do that to a person you haven’t met before.”

Buffy could, occasionally, read between the lines. Spike was particularly easy to read. “What did Faith say to you, Spike?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied.

Buffy shook her head. “From the look on you face, I think it does.”

He shrugged. “Twitted me ‘bout not sleepin’ an’ gave me a bit of a hard time about the glasses, ‘sall. Not a big deal, Slayer.”

Buffy smiled a little, and then reached across him to pick up the glasses off the table. Clumsily, she put them back on his face, finally pushing them into place with her index finger, tapping him playfully on the nose. “Well, I can tell you that Faith didn’t know what she was talking about with the glasses. I think they look good. I mean, you look good without them too.” She paused, slightly flustered. “Either way.”

He smiled, ducking his head shyly. “Thanks, luv.” Then, quietly, “You want the whole truth, Buffy?”

Even now, it was so rare to hear him use her name that it startled her. Let her know how serious he was. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” she tried to joke, but it fell strangely flat. There was no room in his face for joking.

“It was you, Buffy. I know you. The way you move, the way you walk, the way you dance. I know the way you tilt your head, and the fire in your eyes.” Spike swallowed heavily, knowing that he was showing his hand to her, that the game would be up. “It’s not the outside package that makes you, Buffy. Faith isn’t you. She can’t be.” He reached up to touch a lock of golden hair.

“I’d know you even if you were in the body of an old man, luv,” he whispered, and the intimacy of his voice, of his gesture, sent chills up and down her spine. The roughness of his voice, the lines in his face, all drew her to him. He was beautiful. Had she ever noticed that before? Or was it the blue flame of his eyes, calling to her as if she were a moth? She could be consumed by it, and never care. The comfort of being known surrounded her, and she needed it after Riley had betrayed her as he had.

“I broke up with Riley,” Buffy confessed.

Spike blinked at the apparent non-sequitor. “Huh?”

Buffy took a deep breath. “I broke up with Riley. He slept with Faith.”

Spike was conflicted. There was a part of him that wanted to jump up and down for joy, to tell her that she was better off without him. But his inherent sense of fairplay, instilled in him from birth and back full force with his heartbeat, was telling him that it wasn’t Riley’s fault he hadn’t known. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, settling for the middle ground. “I know you cared about him.”

“I could have forgiven him,” Buffy said. “I mean, I know it looked like me, so it wasn’t like he meant to cheat. And Tara saw the energy thing. But you knew. You knew. How could I stay with someone who didn’t know me when there was someone who did?”

Her lips were descending, ever closer to his. Spike came to his senses suddenly, his brain having shut down while she was so close to him. “Wait. Buffy.” He pushed her away gently and stood up, moving out into the gallery to get some distance. He couldn’t hope to have a rational thought while she was so close. “You don’t want this.”

“I don’t want what?” Buffy asked, confused. She was certain that he wanted her. It was written all over his face, shining from his eyes.

“This,” he replied, waving to the space in between them. “You just broke up with your boyfriend. You’re hurt an’ angry, an’ you have every right to be. But don’t try to use me to get even with him for not figurin’ it out.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, angry at his accusation that she might be using him for revenge. And then she shut it again. It wasn’t the complete truth, but there was a piece of her that knew it was at least a small part of the truth. “It’s not like that,” she finally said, more calmly.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper in the darkened gallery, the only light coming from the lamp in the office behind them. “Tell me you want me, Buffy. Tell me you came here tonight because you want to be with me, an’ that it doesn’t have anythin’ at all to do with Finn. If you can tell me that, we’ll take up right where we left off.”

Buffy was silent. She had come to him to find out how he had known that it was Faith in her body. How he had known when no one else had even guessed. She had found more than she could have ever imagined, but it wouldn’t be fair to take the comfort he could offer, not when she was unsure of whether she could offer him anything in return.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think—I think we should both go home. It’s been a long couple of days.”

Buffy couldn’t think of anything to say to change his mind, to assure him that there was more there than he believed. Words had never been her forte. “Spike,” she said, calling him back, not wanting him to leave looking as though his whole world had just ended. “That wasn’t the only reason I came to you tonight. It wasn’t all about Riley.”

Spike nodded, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure there was anything left to say.

“It’s a beautiful world but everyone’s insane/Either you swim or either you fade/It’s a revolution time we’re sleeping at the wheel/Apocalypse child in a nuclear field/We want to change the world but not what holds us back/I want to be for you what I’ve never had/And all of this time I was just trying to reach you…Fragile to the waves- vicissitudes of days/ When I am with you I feel a little brave/The madness and the wars the circles that we run/ Confusion we import look what we’ve become/And all this time I was just trying to reach you…If you leave- I die with you.” ~Bush, “Float”

Buffy was still feeling a little disoriented from the previous evening’s assault on the vampire nest. Everyone had seemed to think she did all right, but there was something about the fight that bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt as though she were off her game somehow, and that just didn’t seem right.

Buffy sighed and shrugged it off as personal issues. Breaking up with Riley, and then Spike’s withdrawal had just thrown her off a little, put her in the dumps. It would pass.

Riley had been understandably hurt when she’d broken it off. He told her that it wasn’t fair, that he hadn’t really cheated on her, that she was being unreasonable. Heck, maybe he was right, maybe she was being unreasonable. But every time that thought popped into her mind, she was reminded of Spike’s words, of what he had said, of the look in his eyes. Buffy had never known what it meant to be known like that. Seeing that, it was impossible to believe that she’d made the wrong decision.

Besides, while she felt a pang of regret concerning Riley, it was Spike that she missed. Now that he’d moved out of Giles’ apartment, it seemed as though he was avoiding her. Buffy hadn’t seen him for the last few days, and every time she tried to catch him at Giles’ or at the gallery, he disappeared.

“Buffy!” The call startled her, and she turned to see Riley hurrying to catch up. “Buffy. Hey.”

Buffy felt awkward. She wasn’t sure if they were still trying to be friends or not. “Riley. How are you? Is your, uh, stomach feeling better?”

He shrugged. “You know, it’s about back to normal.” There was a long, uncomfortable silence. “How are you?” Riley finally asked.

“Good,” Buffy said. “You know, pretty much the same old, same old.” She looked off into the distance. “I should go. I’ve got—”

“Wait,” Riley said, grabbing her arm. “Buffy, can’t we talk about this? You know I care about you. Maybe—I mean, if you just took some time, we could work this out.” He looked at her sincerely. “This is weird for me too. It’s not like I wanted this.”

Buffy sighed. She looked around and found a bench, leading him to sit down next to her. “Riley, I know this has been hard for you, and that you didn’t mean to sleep with anyone but me. It’s just that there were other people who knew it wasn’t me, and I have to wonder if I’m with the right person, when you didn’t know and—other people did.”

“This is about Spike, isn’t it?” Riley demanded. “Spike knew, so you think you’re meant to be with him? Buffy—”

“This isn’t about anybody except you and me,” Buffy retorted, interrupting him. “Riley, I’m sorry, but you don’t understand. I don’t know if you can understand. I’ve been fighting evil since I was fifteen, and most of that time no one knew about it. I had to hide who I was from my mom, people at school, teachers, everyone. No one really knew me. I didn’t think it was possible, to be honest. It’s not your fault, Riley. You didn’t do anything wrong. But Spike knew. Somebody knows me that well, better even than my friends and family, and I need some time to figure out what that means.”

Riley had lapsed into angry silence at this point, and Buffy felt a keen disappointment. She wanted him to understand, but it wasn’t going very well. “This isn’t about me being with anyone right now,” she said gently. “It is about the fact that I don’t think we really know each other. I don’t think we’re even in the same place, Riley.”

He opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. “I think you’re making a mistake, Buffy,” he said unhappily. “You know how I feel about you. Isn’t that more important that just being a good guesser?”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up, and she stood. “That was more than being a ‘good guesser,’ Riley. I’m sorry it worked out this way, I really am. But I need my space right now.”

She took a deep breath and headed off towards her class, a certain pair of blue eyes haunting every step.

~~~~~

“This is all Faith’s fault,” Buffy complained. “It’s like she’s poison. No, it’s like she’s acid that eats through everything. Maybe she’s a bomb. The point is, everything was going fine until she wrecked it. Things were going really well with Riley, and I was getting along great with Spike. Then Faith has to come along and ruin it.”

Jonathan gave her an understanding smile. “You know Buffy, I don’t think you’re really angry at Faith. I think you’re angry at Riley.”

A breathless girl came up to the table, holding out a book. “Could you?”

“Sure,” Jonathan said warmly even as Buffy stifled a surge of annoyance. Jonathan was usually the person she went to with her troubles, but they were always getting interrupted by fans. She guessed it was just the price you paid for fame. He handed the book back to the girl. “You and Riley had this amazing connection, and then at the moment that it matters most, he looks into your eyes and doesn’t even see it’s not you looking back at him.”

Buffy frowned. “Well, yeah, pretty much. But the thing is, Spike knew. He’s not even my boyfriend or anything. We haven’t been friends for that long. So, did Riley and I really have that connection, or was I just fooling myself?”

Jonathan frowned wisely. “Only you can answer that question, Buffy. I think you have to ask yourself if you aren’t a little angry at Spike too for pushing you away.”

Buffy considered that for a second. “I don’t know, maybe. He was at least a little bit right, though. I wasn’t being completely fair to him.”

“Maybe you’re angry because you can’t have things both ways,” Jonathan suggested gently. “You’re angry at Riley because he didn’t know you well enough to tell that it was Faith in your body. And maybe you’re a little bit angry at Spike for knowing you so well that he knew your heart wasn’t really with him.”

Buffy thought about that as Jonathan signed “Karen-with-a-K’s” book. He was probably right, of course. She had been a little angry at Spike. Having someone know her that well was a little scary. The funny thing was that he didn’t know her like Willow or Xander or her mom did. He didn’t know her favorite color, or movie, or what had happened at her tenth birthday party, but he knew when some psycho switched bodies with her. The history wasn’t there, but the depth was.

“So what do you think, Buffy?” Jonathan asked as Karen ran off squealing. “If I’m wrong, smack me. Karen-with-a-K has a book you could use, and it’s pretty heavy.”

“Maybe I have been a little angry at both of them. Plus, Spike’s been avoiding me.” She bit her lip. “How do I even talk to him? I know he has feelings for me, but I don’t know if I feel the same way. He already knows me so well—it’s a little scary.”

Jonathan stood and gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey, Buffy. We live on the Hellmouth. We’ve faced things a lot scarier. Give it some thought, but go with your heart. It’s a good one.”

“What if I can’t make it right with him?” Buffy asked. “I think I really hurt his feelings. And whatever Faith said to him didn’t help matters any.”

“If you really want it, you can make anything happen,” Jonathan replied, and Buffy couldn’t help but believe him.

~~~~~

Spike had been avoiding Buffy. He was fairly certain that she hadn’t been lying to him. There had been more there than just the desire to get even with Riley. Even so, it was impossible for him to think when she was around. His hands went sweaty and his mouth went dry. He got this funny, tight feeling in his chest, so it was hard to breathe too.

It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to seek her out after that.

He’d managed to move into the apartment a few days early, but it was a depressing place to be alone. He was mostly using it for sleeping and spending the rest of his time at the gallery or at Giles’. As long as Buffy wasn’t around, that is. Tonight, he was going to treat himself to a drink and music. He thought perhaps Jonathan was playing.

Spike smiled, thinking of earlier that day. Giles had stopped by the gallery in an ill-concealed bid to see if he was getting on alright. Joyce had given him three tupperware containers of “leftovers,” telling him that she’d made more than she’d intended. Their concern warmed him more than he could say. He hadn’t had anyone genuinely looking out for his well-being since his mother had died.

He stepped into the Bronze and moved through the crowded floor, listening to the band. Spike ordered his beer and then leaned back against the bar, watching the couples out on the dance floor and feeling a pang. He half-wondered if Buffy hadn’t made up with Riley by now. It wasn’t like it was the soldier’s fault he was a big git and didn’t know when his girl had switched bodies. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Buffy had come to her senses and forgiven him.

Spike took a swig of his beer and nearly spit it out when Buffy materialized in front of him. “Hey.”

He swallowed abruptly, choking on the bitter liquid. She obligingly pounded him on the back until he could breathe again. “Hey.”

“You want to come sit with us?” she invited, motioning to a table at the edge of the dance floor. Anya and Xander were already there.

He hesitated, but there was something in her eyes that drew him. “Uh, sure, luv.” Spike felt shock, mixed with pleasure, when she casually grabbed his hand, leading him through the crowded club.

“Look who I found,” Buffy said brightly, plopping down in her seat.

Xander smiled in greeting, and Anya gave a little wave. “Hey, Spike. How’s the new apartment?” the boy asked.

“Bit quiet,” he confessed.

Anya looked puzzled. “More quiet than Giles’ apartment?” she asked. “I wouldn’t think he’d be a very good conversationalist. He’s very British. And reserved.” It apparently hadn’t occurred to her that Spike was British, though not as reserved.

Xander coughed in embarrassment, though Spike just smiled. Anya’s frankness amused him more often than not. He knew well enough not to take offense. “’s a bit different when you’re the only one there,” he explained.

“Oh, of course,” Anya said. “You’re lonely. I’ve heard about that. Maybe you should get Buffy to give you orgasms. Then it wouldn’t be so quiet.”

That did embarrass Spike, and Buffy blushed a bright red. (The blushing might have also had something to do with a particular dream she’d had about that very thing.) “Anya,” Xander said, warning in his tone. “We talked about this.”

“What?” Anya asked, puzzled as to everyone’s reactions. “It’s not as if there isn’t unresolved sexual tension there.”

Xander stood. “You know, I think we should get something to drink. Now.” He pulled her away from the table.

Both Buffy and Spike were left wanting to look anywhere but at each other. “Well, that wasn’t at all awkward,” Spike finally said, just to break the silence.

They looked at each other and both began to grin. “Leave it to Anya,” Buffy agreed. “I’m sorry about the other night,” she said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.”

Spike nodded. “’s all right, Buffy. It just happened. We should just forget about it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Huh?” Spike wasn’t quite sure he got that.

“I don’t want to forget about it. I mean, you were right, but it wasn’t all about Riley,” Buffy said. “I want to start over. We were doing okay before as friends. Maybe we could just start there and find out where it goes.”

Spike frowned, realizing that the implication was that they were going somewhere. “Where do we start? As friends, I mean?” he asked. “Haven’t really done this before, you know.”

Buffy smiled. “For starters, you could buy me a drink.”

Spike returned her smile, rolling his eyes slightly. “I see where this is goin’, Slayer,” he said, but he didn’t protest. “Diet Coke?”

It was exactly right. “That would be nice.”

Willow and Tara were around, though they were mostly together and off to the side. Spike knew that the togetherness that hummed between them was getting harder and harder to hide from the group. Soon, he knew, Willow would have to come clean, but it was nice to see the two of them happy.

Spike felt himself relaxing more over the couple hours spent in the company of Buffy and her friends than he thought possible. He was having a very hard time not laughing at Xander and Anya’s antics.

“If it comes down to a fight, my money’s on Anya,” Buffy whispered in his ear as the two argued about whether or not Anya had moaned Jonathan’s name in bed.

Spike smirked. “There are some things I just didn’t want to know. Like who says what in the throes of passion.”

Jonathan came up to the stage, looking dapper as always. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to a very good friend of mine who’s been going through a rough patch.”

The band took up the strains of “Fools Rush In,” and Spike glanced over at Buffy. It was a perfectly appropriate song, because he certainly felt like a fool, standing and holding out his hand to the Slayer. He might as well have held out his heart, and that never seemed to turn out well for him. “Do friends dance?” he asked with a smile.

“I don’t know. But if they don’t, I think I can make an exception for you.” Buffy took his hand and stood. Spike led her out onto the dance floor and took her into his arms, one hand on Buffy’s waist, the other intertwining her fingers with his.

Jonathan’s voice crooned in the background. “Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread. And so I come to you, my love, my heart above my head. Though I see the danger there, if there’s a chance for me, I do not care.”

“I haven’t danced like this in a long time,” Spike confessed.

“How long?” Buffy asked, suddenly wanting to know more, wanting to know him as well as he knew her. The little things as well as the deep stuff.

He frowned in thought. “Before the wheelchair anyway.”

“That is a long time,” Buffy agreed. “So how is it getting back in the saddle?”

“Like riding a bicycle,” Spike replied.

The song continued to float in the background. “Do you miss her?” Buffy asked suddenly.

“Miss who?”

“Drusilla.”

He gave the question the serious consideration it deserved. “Not really. Not now. Feels like a dream, sometimes—bein’ a vampire, I mean. Every day that goes by, it gets harder to remember what it felt like. Every time I walk out in the sun that I don’t fear getting burned up, makes it that much more unreal. Dru—Dru’s like this dream I had once.” Spike ran a hand over Buffy’s hair. “Right now, everythin’ about what I was before doesn’t seem real.”

Buffy opened her mouth to say something even as the song ended—perhaps to tell Spike how glad she was that he wasn’t a vampire anymore. How nice it was that they could dance together at the Bronze like the two very normal people that they weren’t.

Of course, that’s when Karen rushed in.

Spike had no illusions about his ability to do much in the Slayer realm. Besides, even if Buffy and Jonathan couldn’t handle it, Riley and his soldier-boys would be the ones called in. Jonathan’s position as a special consultant to the army ensured he got whatever cooperation he needed, any time he wanted it.

He listened to Karen’s story, feeling a vague annoyance with Jonathan for stepping in so quickly. And at Buffy for letting him. She was the Slayer, she didn’t need some little—Spike stopped that thought. What was he thinking? This was Jonathan. That explained everything.

Spike pulled her off to the side when it looked as though she had a minute. “Listen, luv, I’m goin’ to take off now. You won’t need me for this.”

Buffy really did want to argue with him. Spike had been a great deal of help in the past, with Giles and the demon thing, and of course with Faith’s body-switching. On the other hand, she had Jonathan, and he was bound to call in the army. Spike and Riley so didn’t need to cross paths at this point.

“Okay,” she finally replied reluctantly. “You could still come if you wanted to, you know.”

He shook his head. “I’d just be in the way. I’ll see you around, Slayer.” Spike walked off, and for a second, Buffy could almost see the confident swagger he used to put on. After a few steps, however, it was gone, replaced by the walk of a very tired man.

Biting her lip, Buffy went back to the performance of her Slayer duties. It never crossed her mind to wonder why, if she was the Slayer, Jonathan needed to be there. Or, alternatively, if Jonathan was Jonathan, why they needed the Slayer at all.

~~~~~

“How do you bloody well expect me to starve to death if you keep feeding me?” Spike asked with a bemused smile. Joyce had pressed yet more leftovers onto him, and he wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or grateful. “I can cook, you know,” he insisted.

Joyce gave him a stern look. “That might be true,” she admitted, though her voice said she thought otherwise. “But you’re here most of the time, and I know you’re still helping Mr. Giles and my daughter when you can. When do you have time to cook?”

It was a legitimate point, and it would have been completely on target, if Spike had even had the money for much more than peanut butter and Ramen noodles. In another month, he’d be caught up on bills and could afford some decent food, but until he made that money back, he was going to be eating lightly. Unless, of course, Joyce had anything to say about it.

He sighed. “Don’t want you worryin’ about me, Joyce. I’ll be quite alright.” Spike turned earnest blue eyes up to meet hers. “Really.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said sincerely. “But, really, Spike. You’re too thin. I took care of Buffy when she let me. I took care of her friends too. This isn’t about charity.”

Spike was fighting a war between a grin and a scowl. On the one hand, he wanted to protest that he didn’t need a mother, he’d been doing just fine without one for over a century. He also enjoyed her attention way too much to insist that she stop. “If you insist,” he finally said.

“Good,” she stated. “Because I do insist.” Joyce reached out and smoothed an errant curl from his forehead. He really was such a sweet boy, and not so very different than the vampire that had shown up on her doorstep, not with her anyway. The bell on the front door rang, and she left the back office to see to the customer as Spike put his three new meals in the fridge. He really shouldn’t complain. Joyce’s generosity saw to it that he was eating decently at least once a day.

Joyce was surprised to see her daughter at the door. Buffy had come by the gallery more often since Spike had started working there than she ever had in the previous three years combined. Not that it surprised her at all. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said, giving her daughter a warm hug. “I’m guessing you’re here to see Spike.”

Buffy gave her a shamefaced smile. “Yeah. I know I haven’t been by much lately.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joyce said. “I remember what it was like when I was in college, so I certainly don’t begrudge you your freedom. That’s what it’s all about.” She got a concerned look on her face. “There isn’t anything wrong, is there?”

The Slayer shook her head emphatically. “Nope. Nothing wrong. I just came by to see your favorite employee. Do you think I could steal him for a while?”

Joyce could tell by the look in Buffy’s eyes that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. On the other hand, when had Buffy told her the whole truth? Even after she had found out about her daugter’s identity as the Slayer, Joyce had still never known much of what was really going on. While she knew it was Buffy’s method of protecting her, Joyce also wished she knew her daughter a little better. “Better yet, steal him for the entire day,” Joyce replied in a whisper. “Spike could probably use a little time off.”

Buffy smiled. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

Spike looked up from his work with a smile when he heard her come in. And for a second he thought she might have come just to say hello. His smile dimmed just a bit when he heard her next words. “I need your help.”

Spike bit back a sigh. The day that the Slayer didn’t come to him because she needed something would probably be the day the world ended. “What’s that?”

“I need your help with some research.”

He frowned slightly. “Isn’t that more your Watcher’s purview, Buffy? Don’t know how much help I could be.”

Buffy hesitated. How could she tell him that she suspected Jonathan of a major cover-up? Or maybe it was just a little cover-up. In either case, she shouldn’t be suspecting Jonathan of anything at all. When she’d broached the subject to Giles, even vaguely, he’d immediately seized upon Jonathan’s name and told her that he was certain it would be taken care of in time.

She was the Slayer though. If some monster was loose, and Jonathan wasn’t going to do anything about it, it was her responsibility. The only person she could think of that might be able to help her, that she could trust completely, and who would probably go to the end of the world for her—was Spike.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

Spike stared at her like she’d just grown a second head. “’Course I trust you, Slayer. What’s goin’ on?”

“I think there’s something loose in Sunnydale,” Buffy said, then explained the situation with Karen the night before. “That same thing came and attacked Tara too,” she said, knowing that would get his attention. “We need to find this thing.”

Spike shook his head. “Still don’t see where I come in,” he admitted. “You’ve got Jonathan and whatever soldiers you need to do your bidding.”

“Jonathan said whatever that mark on the thing’s head was, it wasn’t important. But I think it might be.” Buffy made the last statement with a bit of defiance, used to having everyone question her abilities and go straight to, well, Jonathan.

“Okay,” Spike said simply.

Buffy stared at him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. “I trust you. You say it’s important, we’ll look it up.” Spike glanced at the clock on the wall. “Let’s go grab lunch,” he suggested. “We can figure out the plan while we eat.”

~~~~~

They didn’t get much planning done for a while, however. Spike and Buffy took their leave of her mom, who told them to give her regards to that “wonderful young man, Jonathan,” and especially to tell him how much she liked the new CD. After that, they just got to talking about strange experiences on the Hellmouth. There happened to be a lot of stories.

“So let me get this straight,” Spike said with an incredulous look. “Rayne, the bloke that turned Giles into a Fyarl, is the same guy that had somethin’ to do with Rupert sleepin’ with your mum?”

Buffy hid a grin. “Band candy,” she agreed. “You should have seen Giles. He was a little like you as a vampire, only not quite as evil.”

“But all the grown-ups were actin’ like teenagers?” Spike sighed. “I would’ve liked to see that,” he admitted. “Must have been right entertaining.”

Buffy shook her head. “More like disturbing. And Ethan was also responsible for turning people into their Halloween costumes. But you were around for that one.”

“That was neat,” Spike said, smiling as he remembered that night. He saw the look on Buffy’s face. “At the time, it was!” he defended himself.

Buffy couldn’t hide a smile. It hadn’t been “neat,” as he’d called it, but putting herself in his shoes at the time, she could understand why he might say that. It had come in handy though, in the long run. The Judge would probably still be alive if Xander hadn’t had his brilliant idea, along with the knowledge and the means to see it through. “I get your point,” she said.

Getting down to business finally, Spike looked suddenly serious. “So how are we goin’ to go about this, Slayer?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. “I have no idea where to start looking for this symbol and what it means.”

“Let’s see it then,” Spike said, watching as she drew it on one of the napkins. He frowned, studying it for a couple minutes in silence. “Think I know where to start lookin’, knowin’ what we know, anyway.”

“What we know?” Buffy asked blankly, not understanding.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “If this is about Jonathan, an’ he knows what it is, then he might be behind it. An’ if he’s behind it, ‘s got everythin’ to do with who he is.”

“You actually believe me?” Buffy asked.

Spike shrugged. “It doesn’t feel right, Jonathan bein’ the bad guy, but I’m willin’ to suspend my disbelief if you think that’s the right thing to do. ‘Sides, I was bored at Giles’ usually. I think I remember seein’ that when I was flippin’ through one of his books.”

“Can you get into Giles apartment?”

Spike raised an eyebrow, looking at her as though she’d just asked a stupid question. “I’ve still got my key, Buffy. But that doesn’t help us if Giles is there. How are we supposed to explain that we need his books an’ not him?”

Buffy smiled. “Leave that to me. We’ll go, you tell him that you think you left a shirt there or something, and then you start looking while I provide the distraction. Trust me. It works like a charm.”

~~~~~

Buffy was trying hard not to giggle as they walked down the street towards Spike’s apartment. Giles had been at home, but between the two of them they had managed to keep him from realizing that they were borrowing a few of his books. The Slayer hadn’t been happy to find out Spike’s car was back at his apartment building, and they’d be stuck carrying several heavy volumes on foot, but the whole gig had been like old times, with her providing the distraction and someone else doing the grabbing. It had been fun.

Spike looked over at Buffy and frowned. She was obviously doing her best not to laugh, and she seemed positively giddy about something. “What’s up, luv?”

She gave him a wide grin. “I haven’t done that since—” Buffy faltered. She wasn’t sure she should bring up the last time she’d stolen books from Giles.

Spike looked at her expectantly. “Since when?”

“Since that Halloween Ethan Rayne turned us into our costumes,” she admitted. “I distracted Giles so Willow could sneak into his office and steal the Watcher’s diaries. I wanted to find out what kind of girls Angel liked when he was our age.” Buffy could see the change come over Spike’s face, and she immediately knew what had caused it. That was one of the problems with being with Spike. Riley had never known about Angel, and Buffy really wasn’t planning on telling him any time in the near (or distant) future. But Spike knew. He’d been there through the whole thing, even if he had been on the opposing team.

“Don’t do that.”

Spike scowled. “Do what?”

“Don’t look like that,” Buffy replied. “I’ve moved on, Spike. If you can say Drusilla’s name, I can say Angel’s name.”

“It’s not that easy,” he replied. “You don’t just bleedin’ ‘move on’ from things like that.”

Buffy shrugged. “Fine. Then I’ve accepted it. I can’t be with Angel. Angel can’t be with me. There isn’t anything either one of us can do about it. So what’s the point in not at least trying to just deal?”

“What if we could figure out what the Initiative used on me?” Spike demanded. “What if we could find it and use it on Angel too? What then?”

Buffy had thought about it. She’d had several sleepless nights thinking about it. Spike was right, in a way. You didn’t just move on from your first love. They stayed with you, became a part of you, until they were a piece of everything you did and thought and felt. But at the same time, Buffy wondered if it would really ever work. There was so much that had happened, so much between them. And, in the end, Angel had left. He had gone without even saying good-bye, because that’s what he felt was what was best for her. Buffy wasn’t sure she would ever be able to see him again without remembering that scene at the high school, seeing his back through the smoke.

“I don’t know,” she stated quietly. “But Angel gave up, Spike. He left.”

Spike stared at her. They had paused in front of his building, and now he studied her face as though he had never seen it before. Perhaps he hadn’t, because there was something in her eyes that seemed different. “Dru left. She said—she didn’t want me anymore.” Spike wasn’t quite ready to tell her what Drusilla had really said. “I would have stayed with her until I turned to dust.”

“I know.” There was a shared understanding there. They had both lost their first loves; their hearts were no longer completely their own. Someone else would always own a piece of them.

It was Spike who broke the moment first. “I have to warn you,” he said, motioning her inside the front door, which did not lock. “It’s not much.”

“That’s okay. Just as long as I don’t see any roaches, we’ll be fine.”

“Haven’t seen any of those yet,” Spike replied. He led her up the stairs to his door, 2C, and unlocked it, allowing her to enter first. He couldn’t see her face, so her first impression was a mystery to him.

Buffy wasn’t all that impressed. The apartment itself wasn’t much, as he’d warned her, but it wasn’t horrible. Maybe it was a little on the small side, but with a few homey touches, it might be liveable. The paint would have to go, though; it was a truly nasty shade of off-white.

What made the whole place depressing was the lack of—anything. There weren’t any pictures on the wall, the only piece of furniture was a ratty green chair in the middle of the living room, and looking back through the open door of the bedroom suggested that it wasn’t much better back there. “You know, if you decorated the place wouldn’t be all that bad.”

Spike smiled ruefully. “Landlord wanted three months rent up front since I didn’t have much in the way of credit,” he replied. “I’ll decorate when I get a bit of cash, yeah?”

Buffy frowned. She wondered what else he was doing without in order to pay three months rent up front, but it wasn’t any of her business. “Well, I might not be Martha Stewart, but I can use a paint brush,” she offered.

“Thanks,” he replied. He sat down on the floor, waving her to take the chair. “Let’s see if we can find that symbol you’re lookin’ for.”

Buffy plopped down in front of him. “Good.” She grabbed the first book and started flipping through it. Spike had taken the five he thought most likely to have contained the symbol. All of them were books on spells, and most had some symbol associated with them.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Buffy had explained to Spike on the way to the deli where they’d had lunch. “Doesn’t it seem weird that Jonathan’s so good at everything? He graduated from med school, and he’s only 18. He starred in the Matrix, but he never left town.”

Spike had simply looked at her and said quietly, and with perfect sincerity, “Buffy, he’s Jonathan. But if you think somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on, then I trust you.”

Buffy flipped another page and looked over at Spike who was squinting at the small print on a page in his own book. When on earth had he started trusting her like that? “You can put your glasses on, you know,” she told him. “I’m not going to make nasty comments or anything.”

He glanced up at her, then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Right. Didn’t think about it.” Spike reached into the pocket of his dark blue, button down shirt and put the glasses on, then went back to reading.

Buffy flipped a few more pages and then glanced back up to see Spike staring at her. When he saw her look up, his eyes flashed down to his page, as though he’d been reading the whole time. Buffy went back to reading as well, but again she looked up and her eyes caught his.

“What are we doing, Buffy?”

“Researching,” she replied flippantly.

He shook his head. “No. I mean what are we doing? You an’ me?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” Spike said honestly. “It really does.”

Buffy frowned. She wanted to do the “play it by ear” thing. Wasn’t it the girl who usually asked where a relationship was going and the guy who didn’t want to talk about it? “We’re friends. We’re seeing where this is going.”

“Where can this go?” he asked. “Buffy, I was a vampire up until a couple months ago. You hated me till a few days ago—”

“More than a few days ago,” she corrected him.

Spike didn’t seem to hear her. “You just broke up with your boyfriend. Doesn’t that make me the rebound guy?”

“The rebound guy?” Buffy stared at him.

“Innit that what they call it?” he demanded. “When you start a new relationship right after an old one?” Buffy reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away and moved to where she couldn’t reach him. She stared at him, hurt.

“Don’t,” Spike said shortly. “I can’t think when you’re touchin’ me.”

Buffy was oddly flattered, despite the sting of his withdrawal. It was nice to hear you could stop a guy’s mental processes with just a casual touch. “Fine, Spike. What do you want me to tell you?”

“Tell me this isn’t some way to get over your soldier,” he pleaded. “I dunno. Tell me I mean something to you, somethin’ more than just needin’ my help every so often. I—you know how I feel about you, Slayer.”

There was a naked vulnerability in Spike’s eyes. It was, she realized suddenly, how he had managed to capture the hearts of everyone she knew. In the same instant, Buffy realized that she could destroy him with a word, more surely than she would have been able to with a stake when he was a vampire.

Buffy looked away, and Spike thought perhaps he had ruined it. He was always and forever doing that: opening himself up to failure with a girl beyond his reach. She looked back to meet his eyes. “You’re not the rebound guy, Spike. If you want to get real technical, Parker was the rebound guy.”

Spike blinked, not recognizing the name, and then turned a deep shade of red as he remembered who Buffy was referring to. And, not incidentally, remembered the first time he had faced her in sunlight. “Buffy—”

“You could also say that Riley was the rebound guy from Parker,” Buffy said, as though he had never interrupted her. “You don’t qualify, since I was the one that broke up with Riley. At least, I think that’s how it works.” She looked at him, waiting silently until he met her eyes. “You’re the guy who saw me, who really saw me, when no one else did. You tell me what that makes you.”

Spike swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” he said. “How can I tell you that, when I don’t even know who I am?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Buffy scooted closer to him. “I don’t have any doubt about that.” He was still silent, and she could see his own doubts swimming in his eyes. They were pools she could happily drown in. With a gentle hand, she drew his face down to hers, their lips meeting for a tentative, chaste kiss. She didn’t think he was ready for much more than that yet.

Spike pulled back slightly and let his forehead rest against hers. Words seemed inadequate, and so he stayed silent, even though he had never had trouble in the past finding the right thing to say. (Or sometimes precisely the wrong thing.)

He glanced over at his book, to where the pages had flipped open, revealing the symbol they had been searching for. “An’ there it is,” he said quietly, breaking the moment.

Buffy followed his eyes and gave a soft chuckle. “Yep. Apparently kissing and research does go together. Just wait till we tell Giles about this new breakthrough.”

“It’s an augmentation spell,” Spike said quietly, skimming the text. “It makes the wizard into a paragon, everyone’s ideal. In order to balance things out though, the spell also creates the wizard’s opposite—everyone’s nightmare.”

Buffy frowned. “The monster. But—does this mean Jonathan did a spell to make us think he’s cool? That’s what created the monster?”

“Looks like.” Spike was troubled. “In that case, it’s hard to say what the ‘real world’ looks like, what Jonathan’s really like.”

Buffy considered that for a minute. “Do you have the Jonathan swimsuit calendar?” Spike gave her a horrified look. “All right, sorry I asked. It’s just, I think I’ve seen this on him before. If I could just look to double-check.”

Spike sighed. “Just a minute.” He disappeared out the front door of his apartment and reappeared about five minutes later. “Mrs. Wolsinski next door’s a big fan,” he explained, holding out the calendar to her. “Figured she might let me borrow it for a few minutes, ‘specially since I told her I’d get Jonathan’s autograph.”

Buffy quickly flipped through to July, and then held the picture out to Spike. He nodded grimly. “Yeah, that pretty much clinches it,” he agreed. He gave her a half-smile. “Better return this real quick before she starts havin’ heart palpitations.”

When he came back, Buffy looked up from the text, focusing on Spike. “The book says that Jonathan and the monster are connected. If we kill the monster, everything will go back to normal.”

“Then we’ll go kill the monster,” Spike said.

Buffy looked surprised, and then worried. “Do you think we can?”

“You can,” he said simply. “You’re the Slayer, Buffy, in this world or any other. Just give you a pointy object an’ point you in the right direction, an’ the job’ll get done.”

“But Jonathan—”

“Jonathan’s Jonathan,” Spike replied. “You’re the Slayer. This time, you’re the one who gets to show ‘em how it’s done.”

Buffy nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “Okay. So point me in the right direction.”

“Who, me?” Spike asked.

Buffy smiled. “You’re the smart one, right?”

“Right,” Spike muttered, looking at the explanation of the spell again. “You think you’re up to beatin’ the info out of somebody?”

Buffy hesitated. She usually watched Jonathan beat the information out of people. “I don’t know.” Spike regarding her calmly, his face holding an infinite patience. “Yes. I mean, absolutely. Willy’s?”

“Sounds like a fair place to start,” Spike said. He frowned slightly. “Some of ‘em might still know me there.”

Buffy shrugged. “So what? You’ll be with the Slayer.”

~~~~~

“That was kind of fun,” Buffy said as they made their way to the hills where Willy had said he’d heard some vampires had gotten kicked out of a cave.

Spike smirked. “That’s my girl.”

Buffy threw him a look, but decided to let it go for now. It wasn’t that she minded the endearment. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Buffy. What are you doing out here?” Jonathan seemed to appear from nowhere in front of them. “And Spike. It’s a little late to be going for a stroll.”

“We were lookin’ for a beast,” Spike replied.

Buffy could feel Spike at her side, a tangible presence. “We found the spell, Jonathan. We need to kill it.”

Jonathan looked from one to the other. “I guess you guys figured out that you make a great team,” he said, rather lamely. He sighed. “I’ll come with you. As the beast’s power wanes, the Slayer will get stronger.”

“Let’s get this done,” Buffy replied, trying to portray more confidence than she was actually feeling. As she followed Jonathan, she felt Spike’s hand sneak into hers, and she gave it a squeeze.

The cave loomed before them and all three could hear inarticulate growls and menacing sounds from the interior. “Maybe you should stay out here,” Buffy suggested to Spike.

“Forget it,” he said firmly. “’m goin’ in with you.”

“All right,” Buffy replied. “But try to stay out of the way.”

It was really the first time Spike had watched a fight that he wasn’t involved in. Fighting should not be a spectator sport, as far as Spike was concerned, but without some sort of weapon he wouldn’t be much use. Watching was interesting, however, because he could see the ebb and flow of a fight in a way you couldn’t see it while you were right in the middle. Buffy visibly weakened as the beast won the fight, while Jonathan became nothing more than a frightened nancy-boy when Buffy was winning.

Buffy was thrown down next to the chasm at some point during the fight, and Spike realized that the monster was going to be able to finish her off. With a deep growl, he mustered a burst of speed. He and Jonathan hit the beast at the same time, sending it flying over the edge. Spike managed to catch himself, but Jonathan went over the edge. It was only the supernatural reflexes of the Slayer that saved him from taking a long fall.

They all felt it at the same time, as the spell was broken. Spike and Buffy stared at each other, ignoring the trembling Jonathan, who was looking badly shaken. “You alright, luv?” Spike asked. Things were falling into place now, memories of perpetrating things against her as a vampire, while in the altered world Jonathan had been the target.

Buffy nodded. She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “You look ready to drop, and we need to make sure everybody else is okay.”

They both looked at Jonathan, who seemed to be waiting for the ax to fall. As well he might. Buffy and Spike looked at each other, and Spike, who knew a little something about wanting to be other than you were, shook his head. “Let’s go, Jonathan. We’ll walk you home.”

~~~~~

The next day, Spike was still shaking his head, thinking about the world Jonathan had created for himself. Everyone seemed to be feeling a vague disappointment, though no one could really say why. Xander had probably taken it the hardest. Buffy had spoken with the gang the night before, but he had debriefed Joyce when he arrived at the gallery the next morning. He’d come to realize that Joyce often got the short end of the stick when it came to explanations.

Lunchtime rolled around, and the bell above the door rang. Spike turned to greet the customer, only to see Buffy watching him. “Buffy. What’s wrong, luv? ‘nother apocalypse coming?”

“Nope,” Buffy replied. “I just thought you might want some lunch.” She held up a brown paper sack. “And maybe some company,” she added.

Spike frowned in confusion, trying to decipher the motivation behind that. And, slowly, it dawned on him that she just wanted to spend time with him. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be right nice, luv.”

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