Chapter 7: My Deeper Death

Giles frowned, not liking the sound of Buffy’s news. “And Angel was certain of this?”

“Dead certain,” Buffy said. “He said, and I quote, ‘I can’t smell a soul on him.’ Personally, I didn’t realize that souls smelled.”

Willow was looking equally uncertain. “But that doesn’t mean that something didn’t happen to Spike. You said he’d been acting differently, you know, since the whole crucifixion thing.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy sighed. “If I could be sure he had changed, it would be one thing. He did say he was in love with me, and he was acting really strange before that. Hanging around my house, that kind of thing.”

Giles’ head shot up. “What do you mean he said he was in love with you?” he demanded.

Buffy winced. She’d forgotten that she hadn’t told her Watcher about that little conversation in the Bronze. “Actually, what he said was that he didn’t want to see me dead anymore. I kind of guessed the rest of it.”

He frowned. “This could be quite serious, Buffy. And dangerous. If he lied about getting a soul, there’s no telling what he means to do.”

“He didn’t actually lie,” Buffy said slowly. “After you told me about that extra curse I asked him what it meant, and he said he didn’t know whether his soul was back or not. But if the warm fuzzies wear off, and he goes back to being his old annoying self, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Spike is different.” Giles, Willow and Buffy turned to look at Dawn, who was glaring daggers at all three. “He’s nice. He cares about me, and Buffy.”

“Dawnie-”

The girl cut Willow off in mid-sentence. “You’re just saying all this because you don’t really know him. Spike liked Mom too, and she liked him. You just don’t want to have to deal with him because he makes you wonder if you’re all wrong, about everything. But he went after that warlock before any stupid curse, so don’t tell me he’s evil anymore, because I don’t buy it.” And then Dawn stalked off to the back of the shop before anyone could stop her. Of course, they really didn’t have anything to say.

~~~~~

Spike had a theory. Granted, it was a theory conceived at the bottom of a tequila bottle, but it

was better than nothing. His theory was that it was all Buffy’s fault. It was her fault he’d come back to Sunnydale, and thus her fault he’d gotten the chip. It was the chip’s fault he didn’t want to eat people, and since he didn’t want to eat people, he actually wanted to help Buffy. That is what had led to indescribable pain and torment. So in the end it was Buffy’s fault.

The cure, he decided, somewhere in between passing out and waking up, was to get the Slayer out of his system. And since out of sight meant out of mind, he would just have to keep the Slayer out of his sight until he could put her out of his mind.

Of course, he had no thought of leaving Sunnydale. That would make things too easy.

But Spike still had to pay his respects. Just because he wasn’t going to talk to Buffy anymore didn’t mean he was going to abandon his loyalties to Joyce or the Bit. He didn’t bother dressing up for this trip, however; Angel had managed to rip his good shirt, so there wasn’t much point. He didn’t bring any new flowers either, since he thought Joyce most likely would have appreciated and recognized the gesture from the previous night. Even if Angel had to come along and ruin it all. In fact, perhaps he needed to revise his theory. Maybe it was all Angel’s fault.

He hefted his ax in his hand. Once he’d paid his respects, the plan was to hunt. It was just what he needed to take his mind off things. And he was surprised once again, this time by a small huddled figure by the grave.

“Bit? What are you doing here?”

“Spike!” The girl looked up at him, startled. “I was just-”

He frowned, recognizing the implements she was using. “You were just tryin’ to raise the dead. I know that book. It’s not a good idea.”

Dawn stared at him. “You don’t know anything about it! I need her.”

Spike’s features softened. “I know.”

“Please, Spike.”

He squatted down next to her and gently ran his fingers along the carved letters, tracing out their pattern. “And what happens when it’s not your mum that comes out of that grave, Bit?” he asked softly. “What happens when it’s a monster and your sister or I have to take care of it? What do you think that would do to Buffy? Or me?”

Dawn suddenly reached out and grabbed the lapels of his leather coat, burying her face in his chest. “I can’t live without her, Spike. Buffy won’t even-she won’t even look at me. Mom was the only one I belonged to.”

He dropped the ax and plopped onto the damp ground. “Told your mum I’d look after you,” he whispered into her hair. “Told her I’d keep you safe. Promised her, I did.”

“Why do you care?” Dawn whispered, looking up at him through teary eyes. “Everybody was talking today, about what Angel said. They said you being nice was going to wear off.”

“And you believed them?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I told them they were being stupid.”

“That’s my girl.” He stroked her soft hair for a while, and then helped her stand. “I’ll walk you home, luv, but I’d ‘preciate it if you didn’t tell your sis about this. Think I’ll try to avoid her for a while.”

“Can I still come over?” Dawn asked petulantly.

“’course. Said you could any time, you know. But-” He hesitated, knowing that letting her come over would have Buffy after his head in a heart beat. “You keep it quiet now, hear?”

“Cross my heart,” she promised.

Dawn clung to him all the way home, and he had to wonder why she trusted him when no one else seemed to. And if she did, why her sister couldn’t find it in her heart to feel the same way. He had to wonder why one little girl cared when no one else did. Spike watched to be sure Dawn made it to the door. Watched as the Slayer met her sister and demanded to know where she had been, what she had been doing. Watched as they yelled at one another and screamed, and Buffy slapped her, and then they cried. Spike nodded thoughtfully to himself, knowing they’d be alright now. As he had told Dawn, he had promised Joyce that he would look after them, but from now on he would be a silent watcher, unseen, unheard. At least until he could manage to get the Slayer out of his head and out of his heart.

~~~~~

Buffy discovered something that should have scared her immensely: she missed Spike. In just a

few days he had managed to worm his way so deeply into her life that now, when she hadn’t seen him in three days, she started to worry. It was probably all part of his grand scheme to get to her; to be nice for a few days, and then suddenly she would want him around.

But it was undeniable, she missed him. She missed the smell of smoke and leather. She missed the way he moved and missed his snark and bluster. Most of all she missed the way he looked at her, as though she was the best thing since sliced bread.

And even if all of this should have terrified her, it didn’t. It just intensified her desire to see him again, to find out what it was that had changed him. Because the more she thought about Dawn’s words, the more she realized that her little sister had been right. Nothing had made Spike go after that warlock. At least, it wasn’t any curse. And Spike had never claimed to have a soul, it was just an assumption that they had made.

Buffy put the last of the dishes away and then sat down at the table thoughtfully. Checking up on him might be a good idea. Really, she needed to get cracking on finding Glory. For that it would be useful to have Spike around. She shouldn’t have let him run off after Angel’s little proclamation. He was probably sulking right now, maybe at the bottom of a bottle.

She had asked Dawn if she’d seen him within the past two days. Dawn had only sniffed and stalked off, stating that if she really cared she’d go see him herself. Of course, at that point she hadn’t been ready to admit that she cared, but now-

Well, now she’d just have to track him down.

~~~~~

Spike was still trying to figure out the ramifications of the curse carved on his chest. The warlock had been very clear on the perpetual torment, but he hadn’t said anything at all about the guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.

The vampire lay on his back in the darkened bedroom. He’d used his free time in the last couple of days to scour the dump for anything good and had actually managed to find a decent set of box springs and a mattress. While he’d had to nick the sheets and bedding, he squelched whatever remorse might have sprung up over that little infraction, telling whatever passed as a conscience that stealing wasn’t nearly so bad as killing people. And besides, wasn’t he preventing people from being killed now? That had to balance out a little petty theft here and there.

Searching out usable items from the dump and decorating his place hadn’t taken up nearly enough of his time though. And the rest of it he spent in thought, playing that evening over and over again in his mind, trying to get some idea of what that blasted magician had done to him.

The bastard had been quick, that was for sure. One minute he was sitting in his chair, watching the telly, and the next it had felt as though he were being picked up by a giant hand and pinned to the wall, exactly as an entomologist pinned his specimins. Except that the scientist usually had the mercy to kill the bugs first.

The man wasn’t very tall or very big; about average height, average weight, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about him except for his eyes, which were flat and dead. By the eyes, Spike had known that he had more mercy at his most evil than the warlock had.

After pinning him there on the wall, the warlock had started beating on him, explaining very carefully as he did so that he’d managed to track Spike by the blood he’d consumed. And then, as he’d carved up his chest, oh so slowly, he’d explained what he was going to do, in detail. Things got a little fuzzy right around there; Spike knew he’d passed out a couple times, and he had a feeling he’d missed a crucial point of the explanation. But he was certain that the warlock had stated that he would endure perpetual torment for daring to interfere. And, in fact, that since he had already undergone a change in nature, he would simply complete the process.

Whatever the hell that meant.

When Buffy had asked him if his soul had been returned, it had seemed to make sense to Spike. After all, he didn’t want to kill anybody anymore, except perhaps for those who dared hurt the Slayer or his Niblet. In addition, he felt more than a twinge of guilt for the ones he’d killed in the past. He could imagine what they had been through now, and he cared. He had never cared before.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that there were only two explanations for what had happened. Either the ritual itself had a much longer lasting effect than he’d previously thought, or the warlock had added something extra to it in the curse carved into his chest. Perhaps whatever change he’d been going through had begun long before, and this curse had simply pushed him over the edge. That may have been what the warlock had meant about a change in nature and completing it. At this point, he really wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he had quietly gone insane when no one was looking. No sane vampire fell in love with the Slayer. Especially not a vampire without a soul.

Somewhere in the midst of all this pondering, he fell asleep, though it was a restless sleep. (He hadn’t slept well since the curse.) When he finally did wake, it was to the scent of vanilla drifting past his nose. It smelled like-

“Hey.” Spike’s eyes flew open and he stared at the Slayer. She sat on the edge of his bed, and all he could do was stare at her. After doing his best to avoid her for the last few days, she ends up at his place, in his bedroom. “You decorated.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Buffy wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Spike couldn’t help but wonder why. “I wanted to talk to you. I hadn’t seen you for a while.”

“Didn’t know you’d miss me.” His tone was deliberately snarky. If the truth were to be told, he was spoiling for a fight, couldn’t wait to piss her off so she’d leave him alone. It would be easier if she were cruel; it would be harder to love her. At least, in theory.

“Well, surprise,” she said. And her voice was deliberately light, no offense taken.

They stared at each other, having come to a stalemate. “Why did you run off the other night?” she finally asked.

“You had Angel. You didn’t need me.”

Buffy gave a little huff that might have been a laugh. “Angel left. Angel can’t stay because if he does, he’ll lose his soul again, and we all remember how well that ended.” She reached out a tentative hand to where his lay against the sheet. “I told you we were friends, Spike. I’m not planning on taking that back.”

“Oh really?” he snarled. He snatched his hand back and rolled to a sitting position, standing up and pulling on a pair of pants at the same time. “So you make friends with the soulless undead now, do you? I’m sure the rest of the vampires in this town will be happy to hear it, luv.”

“What is wrong with you?” Buffy demanded, standing and looking at him in disbelief. “Is this where whatever happened to you starts to wear off? Because I would have expected you to be happy that we were still friends.”

“Friends?” he asked in disbelief. “Is that what you think we are? We’ll never be friends, Slayer.”

Buffy stared at him. The only thing that was keeping her from walking out and writing him off as a lost cause was the look in his eyes. He looked-hurt, lost even. “You said you liked me.”

“That’s what’s wrong!” he finally cried. “I’m a vampire, or I was. I killed two Slayers. I was feared. I had Drusilla. I was the bloody Big Bad.” Spike paced across the room, unable to stand still, even more unable to look at her. “And then you came along, and now what am I? What am I, Buffy?” he demanded.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

Now Spike stood before her, fists clenched, jaw tight, muscles trembling. “If I don’t have a soul, what am I, Slayer?” he whispered. “If I don’t want to eat people, if I-if I love the Slayer, the one girl in all the world that kills my kind like we kill humans, what does that make me?”

It was the first time he’d used the l-word out loud. Oh, Buffy had guessed. Spike wore his heart on his sleeve; it would have been hard to ignore once she realized it was out there. But this was the first time he had said it, and she knew she had to address it, mostly because she didn’t feel the same way. “Spike-”

“Don’t!” He glared at her, and if looks could kill… “That’s just it. I know now. I know I’m a monster. I know what you see every time you look at me, and that’s half the problem. I don’t even know what I am anymore, and I’m drowning in you, Summers.”

Buffy swallowed. “So you really feel bad about killing? Because if you do-”

“What difference does it make?” he asked impatiently. “If I’m sorry or not, doesn’t bring ‘em back, doesn’t undo one bit of the harm I did. What’s the point?”

“If you’re sorry, then you won’t do it again,” she explained, as though to a slow child.

He laughed, a deeply bitter laugh on the verge of hysteria. “Right, because people with souls never do anything bad and then do it again, even if they feel sorry for it. Tell me another one.”

Buffy was stumped. A soul made a difference. Angel had taught her that. A soul was supposed to make all the difference in the world. But this was Spike, and he really wasn’t that much different than he had been before, except that he was. He was sorry, and he understood that she would never love him because of what he was.

And suddenly the actual soul didn’t seem so important, whatever Angel had said he’d smelled. Spike was acting like he had a soul, and that was good enough for her. “Maybe it doesn’t matter,” she suggested.

He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe Angel was wrong. I would have thought you would be the last person to listen to anything he said,” Buffy stated. “And even if he wasn’t wrong, you’re different. Unless you’re going to tell me that the Spike who had dinner with my family, who looked after my sister, who stayed with me until nearly dawn was all an act, I’m going to say that maybe it doesn’t matter, the actual soul. Or maybe you’re just weird. But that we already know.”

Spike stared at her, and then the beginnings of a smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” Buffy replied. “Look, Spike, I know how you feel about me, and I know it’s hard.” She looked down at her feet, considering her next words carefully. She didn’t want to lie, or give him false hope, but she did want to give him an accurate picture of her feelings. “I need to not be in a relationship for a while,” she finally said, honestly. “I really want some time just to figure out who I am without a boyfriend. Right now I can’t remember a point in time when my life was not revolving around some guy. But that doesn’t mean that someday I won’t be ready to be in a relationship again.”

“But it won’t be me,” he finished sadly.

“I didn’t say that.” She met startled blue eyes. “I won’t say it’s gonna happen, but I wouldn’t completely rule out the possibility.”

He gave her a genuine smile. “So I guess that leaves us as friends then.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said we couldn’t be friends.”

“I was tryin’ to piss you off,” he admitted candidly.

Buffy returned his smile and sat down on his bed. “Any particular reason why?”

“Thought if I could do a good enough job you’d leave me alone and I could go about getting you out of my head.” He came and sat down next to her. “Plans haven’t been workin’ out for me lately.”

Buffy was trying hard not to stare at his chest. And his abs. Had Spike always been this attractive? Or was he just this attractive when he wasn’t being annoying? “I kind of noticed.” She was quiet for a minute. “Spike, I need to find out where Glory went to. Now that-now that things have settled down, I need to know what she’s planning.”

He hesitantly put his hand over hers. “You can count on me, pet.”

Buffy smiled at him. And left her hand where it was. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Chapter 8: Searching for Glory

“So where are we goin’ tonight, pet?” Spike asked. He and Buffy were wandering rather aimlessly under the guise of patrolling. It didn’t seem as though they were doing much of that, or at least they really hadn’t been killing anything.

Buffy shrugged. “Well, I was kind of hoping that the evening’s entertainment would include finding Glory, but I’m not going to hold my breath.”

“You got a starting point?” he asked. “Though, to be honest, seems to me it might be better to let things go, hope she’s forgotten about you, an’ all.”

The Slayer sighed. “If it was just about me, I would, Spike. But she’s after Dawn too. I can’t just hope it’ll go away.”

“Ever thought of takin’ the Bit an’ getting out of Dodge?” he asked quietly, knowing she probably wouldn’t like the suggestion. “Nothin’ wrong with a retreat if it means livin’ another day, you know.”

“For how long?” Buffy asked. “My friends are here, Spike. My life is here. And I can’t just pack Dawn off and send her away. If I knew there was an expiration date on her Key-ness, maybe, but I don’t. The monks didn’t exactly include an instruction manual. Stupid monks.”

Spike smiled at Buffy’s distinctive phrasing. He hadn’t thought he could be more in love with her than he already was, but every moment spent in her company was a revelation. (Especially since she wasn’t beating him up all the time.) Every day he found more things, not just to love, but to like about her.

“You ever wish they hadn’t done it?” he asked abruptly. “I know you don’t remember not havin’ a sister, but you ever wish they’d hidden her somewhere else?”

Buffy blinked. Trust Spike to come up with the tough questions. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Some days Dawn gives me a reason to go on, especially since Mom-” She hesitated, knowing that telling the vampire her darkest, most selfish thoughts wasn’t at all the same as telling her friends. For one thing, she could trust him not to say anything to anyone. For another, confessing your sins to a vampire meant no judging would be taking place, because he’d certainly done and felt worse. “And some days it would be easier if the only person I had to look out for was me.”

Spike looked over at her with a great deal of compassion, an odd look for a vampire to have on his face. “Probably just like some days you wish it wasn’t you who was the Slayer, luv. Nothin’ wrong with that, you know.”

There were times when Buffy was able to convince herself that what Spike felt for her was little more than infatuation, barely more than lusting after the unattainable. But every time she had managed to convince herself of that, Spike would look at her like that, with such indescribable tenderness that it hardly seemed possible. And every time he put another little hole in her theory that he would get over her. Her theory wasn’t really holding water anymore. Deciding to change the subject before she had to address the look in his eyes, she said in response to his earlier question. “There is one place we could start looking for Glory that I haven’t tried yet.”

Spike stifled a sigh, knowing that she was changing the subject. “Where’s that, luv?”

“Glory summoned a snake demon of some kind. A Starbucks demon?”

He blinked in confusion, trying to interpret her unique pronunciation. “A Sobekian snake demon?”

“Right, that,” she said. “Anyway, when it saw Dawn, it somehow knew she was the Key and headed back towards Glory. I caught it before it could get to her, but I think it might have been headed towards an apartment complex.”

“As good a place as any to start,” he agreed. “Lead the way, Slayer.”

They were less certain of what to do once they got to the complex. There was no listing for Glory or Glorificus on the mailboxes; no surprise there. But neither one of them were completely certain of how to proceed short of knocking on every door. “There’s got to be a better way than that,” Buffy protested when Spike suggested that solution.

He thought for a minute. “If you were a Hellgod, where would you live?”

She frowned. “What-” Her eyes lit up. “If I thought the world revolved around me? I’d live in the most expensive apartment.”

“Right then,” he said. “That means top floor, penthouse, balcony, all that. Up we go.”

Buffy followed him into the elevator, a little doubtfully. “What are we going to do, Spike? It’s not like we can just knock on her door and ask her to let us search her place.”

“Leave that to me, pet,” he replied, smirking. And when her look grew even more skeptical he shook his head in mock pain. “Oh ye of little faith.”

They got to the top floor, but there was more than one apartment, and most likely all of them were expensive. “Now what?” she asked, wondering even as she asked why she was letting Spike come up with the plan. It wasn’t as though he was actually known for success in that department.

He gave her a secretive smile and found an alcove for her to disappear into. “Wait here,” he cautioned, and then left. Buffy waited impatiently for all of 30 seconds before deciding to go after him. Before she could move, she heard the shrill sound of the fire alarm, and Spike came to stand next to her.

“What did you do?” she hissed angrily. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”

“Watch,” he replied. Sure enough, a minute or so later, several angry people came out of two of the doors and headed down the stairs. And only a minute after that, several rather scabby looking demons came out of the third door. Once they had disappeared down the stairs, Spike exited the alcove and headed for that third door.

“How do you know she’s not in there?” Buffy asked, close on his heels.

He gave her a look. “Come on, Slayer. No good villain lets their minions run for safety while they stay behind. If they left, she’s not there.”

Buffy shrugged and sighed, acknowledging the logic behind that thought. They broke in easily enough, and Buffy knew immediately that this was Glory’s apartment. The décor went way too well with the bad perm and skanky clothing. “This is it,” she said. “Okay, start looking.”

“What are we looking for?” Spike asked.

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll know it when we see it.”

There didn’t seem to be much there, however. At least, they weren’t finding anything that might give them a clue as to Glory’s whereabouts. “In here, Slayer,” Spike finally called, just as Buffy was getting frustrated. He was pointing to a door she hadn’t previously noticed.

“What’s this?” she asked, following him inside. The room was very different from the rest of the apartment. The colors were more muted, and had a masculine tone. The furnishings were simple, almost spartan. “This doesn’t look like a room Glory would use.”

“That’s because it’s not,” Spike said simply. “Look, Buffy.” She looked over to where he was pointing and saw a picture of a young man in a cap and gown, obviously a graduation day picture of some sort.

“Wait a minute, I know this guy.” Buffy pulled the picture off the wall to get a closer look. “This is Ben, the intern from the hospital. He died in a car accident, maybe a week or so ago. Why would he be living here?”

“A very good question,” Spike agreed. “Getting the answers is going to require some violence though.”

“Huh?” Buffy stared at him, and then nodded in sudden comprehension. “Oh, you mean the scabby hobbits. You think we could snag one and make it talk?”

“It’s a plan,” he agreed, and then he looked up and froze. “But not one we can pull off tonight. We need to get out of here before the authorities start looking for the person who pulled the alarm, Slayer.”

“You mean the vampire that pulled the alarm,” Buffy grumbled. “Fine. I guess we’ll take care of it tomorrow night then.”

~~~~~

It was the next night before Spike finally found a minute to pay his respects. They say the third time is the charm, and it seemed the old adage held true. Joyce wouldn’t have minded though; he was certain she knew that he’d been taking care of her girls in her absence.

“’lo, Joyce,” he said quietly, brushing a bit of dirt off the top of the headstone. “Sorry I haven’t been by before this. I’m sure you know things have been a bit crazy.” He paused, thinking he was probably crazy for talking to a dead woman, but it felt right to him. And Joyce had always been a good listener.

“I’m lookin’ after the both of them, like I promised. Buffy’s actually lettin’ me help. Bit of a stunner there.” He paused again, this time to look around and make sure no one was there; he’d thought he’d heard a sound. “Funny that it’s alright she wants to be friends now, yeah? Never thought I’d be satisfied with that before, but it’s more than I thought I’d get. More than I deserve.”

Spike touched the top of the cold stone again in a kind of benediction, though whether he was giving or receiving it, he couldn’t say. “’m sorry I couldn’t save you. Wish you didn’t have to go.” It was enough; he had said his good-byes. He’d never been able to do it properly before, had, perhaps, never felt the need. But coming here to say his farewells to one of the only people who had ever treated him like a man-well, it was right that he act like a man for her.

He straightened his shoulders. Time to go see the Slayer and continue to fulfill his promise. Spike had promised to meet her at the Magic Box so that they could stake out Glory’s place in the hopes of snatching one of her minions.

He froze as he heard a sound from nearby. Creeping forward stealthily, he could see one of the very demons they had planned on hunting scurrying across the graveyard. Spike watched him for a minute, trying to decide if he was going to lead to somewhere interesting, but then gave it up in the next instant. Why bother following when he and the Slayer were just going to beat the information out of him?

The demon didn’t seem very bright, or very strong. Spike was able to tackle him, taking him down and knocking him out without a sound. It seemed he hadn’t yet lost his touch.

~~~~~

Giles looked up in surprise as Spike entered the shop, dragging a brown-robed demon behind him. “Good Lord,” he said, getting to his feet from where he’d been sitting at the round table. “What are you doing, Spike?”

“Lookin’ for the Slayer,” the vampire replied, dropping his bundle unceremoniously on the floor. “We were s’posed to be huntin’ these guys tonight, and this one got dropped right in my lap.”

The Watcher blinked several times as he regarded the still form, and then shook his head. “Well, I suppose that will save Buffy some trouble. Let me get something and we can tie him up.”

Between them they easily managed to secure the still form, and then Giles looked over at Spike. “Are you certain you didn’t kill him? We can’t obtain anything useful from a dead body.”

Spike looked highly affronted. “Didn’t kill him,” he protested. “He’ll wake up eventually. Where is Buffy, by the way?”

“She had to take Dawn home,” Giles replied. “I believe Willow and Tara are staying with her tonight until Buffy gets back from patrol. Though this certainly simplifies things. Does she know to meet you here?”

Spike shrugged. “Yeah, she said here was best because you might have some ideas.”

“None better than what was already proposed, I’m afraid,” Giles admitted. “To be quite honest, I have no idea why Glory has been so inactive. It worries me.”

The vampire flipped a chair around and sat down, resting his chin thoughtfully on his forearms. “It’s more than a bit odd, especially given what we found at her place the other night. Why she’d even let a bloke crash at her place is beyond me. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Giles said, cleaning his glasses on his handkerchief. “But how are you, Spike? Is there any change in-”

Spike cut him off. “If you’re askin’ me what that bastard did to me, I don’t know, Watcher.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate anything,” Giles said quietly. “But you have changed your behavior.”

“Changed a while ago,” Spike replied. “Not that anyone noticed.”

Giles kept his mouth shut. The fact that Spike had acted to stop the warlock out of any consideration of Buffy at all seemed to support the vampire’s point. “Yes, well, you must admit it’s unprecedented.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s bloody uncomfortable. To be honest, I think I’d rather have skipped the whole torture/curse thing.”

“I’m sure,” Giles replied noncommitally, unsure of what to make of Spike at this point. It wasn’t that he was much more polite than he had been in the past, but he seemed less antagonistic in many ways. He certainly wasn’t going out of his way to irritate Giles, and the Watcher was reminded uncomfortably of the time when he and Spike had briefly shared a flat, not to mention the summer they had watched Passions together. There were times in those days when Spike had seemed almost human, and little more irritating than Xander at his worst. He was saved from having to think of it any further by Buffy’s entrance. The Slayer was not looking any happier than she had been that afternoon, not that Giles could fault her for that. Buffy certainly had more than enough on her plate at the moment.

“Hey, Spike.” The Slayer greeted him with an off-handed friendliness that spoke volumes about how far they had come in such a short time. Then she saw the demon tied to the chair, and her eyes widened. “You already found one?”

“He was wanderin’ through the cemetery,” Spike explained.

She looked over at Giles. “He isn’t dead, is he?”

“Spike assured me that he was not dead,” Giles said. “Did you get Dawn home alright?”

“She’s fine,” Buffy said, her face tightening. “We talked about some things.”

To Spike’s credit, he sensed the tension in the room and decided to postpone asking the Slayer about it. For the moment, they had other fish to fry. “You got a glass of water or something, Watcher?”

Giles brought the water which Spike threw into the demon’s face. He spluttered and woke, immediately getting nervous when he saw who was gathered around him. “Now,” Spike began with an evil smile, “you’re goin’ to tell us what we want to know. Or else.”

He let the threat hang and stood back to give Buffy some room. The Slayer came over to stand in front of him, arms crossed in front of her. “We can start with where Glory is.”

The demon stuttered something about sacred duty, and Spike raised a hand to hit him. The minion immediately began to spill everything, leaving the vampire severely disappointed. He had been looking forward to roughing the little weasel up a bit.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” the minion begged, beady little eyes going from one to the other. “The great Glorificus is gone.” He sounded forlorn.

“Gone?” Buffy asked skeptically. “As in, skipped town?”

“As in buried,” the demon wailed. “Master Ben was killed, and his mortal body dragged the Most Lovely One with it.”

Buffy and Giles were still trying to puzzle out the meaning of that when Spike slapped himself in the forehead. “Bloody hell,” he exclaimed. “That ponce was Glory. That’s why his stuff was in her apartment.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Glory and Ben? Wouldn’t you just know it?! What is it with me and guys?”

Giles shot her a look that clearly said that now was not the time to discuss the complications of her romantic life, and looked at the demon. “Is this true? Glory and Ben shared a body?”

“Oh, yes,” the minion said, clearly happy that they weren’t hitting him. “But we’re going to bring her back. We remain her faithful servants.”

“An’ just how are you goin’ to pull that off?” Spike asked dubiously. “The boy bein’ dead and all.”

The demon beamed proudly. “We have hired an expert in resurrection. He, too, understands the magnificence that is the great Glorificus.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks. “And when is this great resurrection supposed to take place?” the Slayer asked.

The demon seemed to suddenly realize that he had given up far too much information, and shut his mouth. But one hard slap upside the head from Spike got his tongue moving again. “In two nights,” he squealed. “And then you’ll be sorry.”

“Right,” Buffy muttered, turning back towards Giles. “Can we stop this?”

Giles sighed. “Most likely. If we can, and Glory stays dead, then we certainly won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“This expert have a name?” Spike asked the demon, thinking he might just know the guy.

The demon didn’t look as though he was going to answer that question, and Buffy gave him another whap to hurry him up. “Doc,” the minion finally muttered sullenly.

“Okay, so now we have a name, a time, and a plan. Anything else we need?” Buffy asked brightly.

“Location?” Giles suggested. But unfortunately the demon didn’t know where the ritual was to be performed. He wasn’t high enough up the echelon to warrant that kind of information. And given his propensity to answer every other question with only a threat of violence, the chances were pretty good that he really didn’t know.

“Now what?” Buffy asked her Watcher as they drew off away from the demon.

“I’m not certain,” Giles confessed. “Obviously, we need to stop the ritual to prevent Glory from returning. But without knowing the place, or even the exact time, it might be difficult.”

Buffy made a face. “The last thing we need is for Glory to come back. I hadn’t even had a chance to get used to the fact that she was gone.”

“The grave,” Spike said quietly. “They’ll need the body, if they don’t already have it. Body’s still in the coffin, we can sit on it.”

“And if it isn’t in the coffin?” Giles asked dryly.

Buffy shrugged. “We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

The Watcher gave her a rueful look. “Why don’t the two of you check out the grave tonight? At least then we’ll know whether or not to look elsewhere.”

“What are we gonna do with him?” Spike asked, nodding at the tied-up demon.

Buffy raised an eyebrow and then sighed. “Well, we can’t let him go.”

“Right then,” Spike said. “I’ll take care of it.” With a quick twist of its neck, the demon was no more. The vampire untied the body, tossed it over his shoulder, and exited out the back.

“How is he, Buffy?” Giles asked quietly, once he was certain the vampire was out of earshot. “Do you think he actually has a soul?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Buffy said quietly. “Spike is acting different. Right now, that’s good enough for me. I don’t need to know why.”

“Be careful, Buffy,” Giles advised. “It might not be the wisest course to get involved with another vampire.”

“We’re not involved, Giles,” Buffy whispered. “We’re friends.”

“Even so,” Giles began, but Buffy was saved from the lecture by Spike’s entrance.

“All taken care of,” he announced. “You all ready, Slayer?”

Buffy shot Giles a look. “Yeah. We just need to get a couple shovels.”

~~~~~

“So, what’s goin’ on, Slayer?” Spike asked as they started digging.

Buffy didn’t look up. “Nothing.”

“Right.” He let it go for a little while, and then asked again. “Buffy, you know you can talk to me.”

She sighed. Spike was too persistent for his own good sometimes. “I’m dropping out of college. And I got called by the school to go see Dawn’s principal tomorrow, something to do with her absences.”

“Wait a minute,” he protested, pausing in his digging to stare at her. “Why drop out, luv?”

“Spike, I can’t do it. Finances are one thing, but someone has to look after Dawn, plus with this Glory thing hanging over our heads…” Buffy shook her head. “I should have known that trying to mix slaying and college was a bad idea.”

Spike frowned. “Did you want to quit?”

“No,” Buffy said, with a slight pout. “That’s what’s so unfair. I actually had a class or two I liked this semester.”

“So don’t drop out,” Spike said.

“Spike-”

“Seriously, luv,” he said earnestly. “If you feel you have to, drop all your classes except the one you like most. If you drop all of them, it’ll be that much harder to start up again later. You keep at least one, you got a chance at goin’ back at least.”

Buffy stared at him. “This sounds like you’ve given it some thought.”

“If it has to do with you, I’ve thought about it, Slayer,” he replied. At Buffy’s skeptical look, he shrugged. “Makes sense. You keep one class, you’ve still got your foot in the door. They can’t shut it on you completely.”

She smiled at him. “Well, I haven’t withdrawn yet, so I’ll think about it.”

“What class are you keepin’?”

“I didn’t say I was.” Spike was silent, waiting for her answer. “If I keep a class it’ll probably be poetry.”

He did a double take. “You like poetry, Slayer?”

“Can’t I like poetry?” She gave him an offended look. “I can like poetry. I have layers.”

“Didn’t say you didn’t,” he muttered. “Just-surprised me, ‘sall. You didn’t exactly seem like a poetry and flowers kind of girl, pet.”

Buffy snorted. “I like flowers. I like poetry. I just haven’t had much of a chance to get them. You know, both my boyfriends in the past were more into saving the world than the hearts and flowers. We didn’t have a lot of opportunity for that kind of thing.”

“You don’t have opportunity, luv, you make it,” Spike said firmly. “I always found time to make sure Dru got her hearts and flowers. Not that she always appreciated it,” he added.

Buffy actually laughed a little bit at that. “So you’re saying you could give Angel and Riley lessons in dating.”

“Didn’t say that exactly,” Spike responded with a smile of his own. “Just sayin’ that you can’t make excuses for that sort of thing. You have it or you don’t, because you make room for it or you don’t. That’s all.”

His shovel hit something hard. “Think we’ve got it.”

“Hop out,” she ordered, brushing the dirt out of the area with her shovel and then reaching down to pull up the lid of the casket. “Ick.”

“I take it he’s in there,” Spike called down, watching as Buffy quickly shut the lid again.

“Look’s like,” she replied. “Well, I suppose we’re going to be on a stakeout the next couple nights. It’s not like they’re going to be able to dig up the body and move it in broad daylight.”

Spike shrugged. “Night is the traditional time for graverobbers,” he agreed. “You gonna think about what I said, luv? About keeping your foot in the door?”

“Yeah,” she glanced over at him. “It’s actually not bad advice. I was kinda thinking it was an all or nothing deal, you know? Either I stayed in school or I didn’t.”

“Well, it is,” he pointed out. “But you can do a lot less to actually stay in college, you know.”

“Yeah. Do you want to watch some graves tomorrow night?”

“With you? Always.” Spike smiled at her.

“Cool. Let’s get this dirt back where it belongs, and then I’m going to bed.” Buffy took the hand that Spike held out for her, and he pulled her out of the hole. “Spike?”

“Yeah, luv?”

“Thanks.” She turned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, moving quickly away. “For, you know, everything.”

For once Spike was speechless, and all he could do was to smile in reply.

Chapter 9: Night’s Utmost Nothing

Spike dashed into the Magic Box under a smoldering blanket. “’lo, all,” he said as nonchalantly as a person stomping on a burning blanket can.

Willow looked up from the book she was reading. “Hey, Spike. You’re up kinda early.”

The vampire shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I might be useful if I was awake.” He returned Tara’s shy greeting with a smile and waved absently at Giles and Anya. “So what are we workin’ on?”

It was a little more than not being able to sleep, of course. He actually hadn’t been able to catch more than a few hours at a time for weeks now. He’d been up till nearly dawn watching Ben’s grave, making sure no one came for the body. He should have been able to sleep past sunset, but the recurring dreams had haunted him, and so he’d come for the distraction as much as anything else.

“We’re looking up resurrection spells,” Willow explained eagerly. “It’s all really interesting. Whoever they’ve got to do it has to be really powerful. That is, if they really want to bring Glory back, and not a zombie, you know.”

“I-it’s all dark magics,” Tara said quietly. “Who-whoever they’ve got can’t be very nice.”

Giles had wandered up to the table, leaving Anya to look after the cash register. “You said last night that you might know who has been recruited, Spike. Did you recognize the name?”

The vampire glanced up at the Watcher and frowned. “Yeah, but hardly sounds like him. Bloke I’m thinkin’ of’s just this little old guy. But his name’s Doc, an’ he’s got a reputation when it comes to resurrection spells. Could be the same one.”

Giles nodded. “Do you think you could find him? If he is the one, you and Buffy might be able to stop him without waiting until tomorrow night.”

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. But it’s worth a shot. Where is the Slayer, anyway?”

“She had a meeting at Dawnie’s school,” Willow offered. “I think both of them should be here soon, though.” The two witches exchanged a glance when Spike brightened imperceptibly. Now that they knew his true feelings, it was pretty obvious that he had it bad.

“That’s good,” he mumbled, trying to sound as though it didn’t matter, even as his hand wandered to his cheek, touching the spot she’d kissed.

The bell over the door of the shop jingled, and they all turned to see Dawn and Buffy walk in, neither one of them looking very happy. “Ah, hello, Buffy. Dawn,” Giles greeted them. Looking at the Slayer he asked, “Did you get it done?”

“Yeah. Dropped everything but the poetry.” Buffy shot Spike a pointed glance. “Because I’m all about the poetry.”

Looking slightly amused, he said, “Never said you weren’t, pet.”

Buffy almost smiled, nodded a greeting to the two witches, and then turned to Giles. “Can we talk for a minute?” At his nod, she looked at her younger sister. “Dawn, do your homework.”

She followed Giles back toward the training room. Spike frowned. He could smell the tension, and just a touch of fear from the Slayer, which didn’t make him at all happy. “What’s up, Bit?” he asked in an undertone.

“We had to talk to the principal,” Dawn muttered sullenly. “She’s overreacting.”

Spike gave her a pointed look. “Would you like to share with the rest of the class?”

“Not funny, Spike,” she snapped. Dawn pulled out her geometry homework and then groaned. “I just don’t get this.”

Willow scooted her chair over closer to Dawn. “Let me see,” she said. “Oh, geometry. Xander had the worst trouble with that class. Here, let me show you.” She quickly began demonstrating the differences in triangles, and Spike looked over at Tara.

Tara was the one he didn’t quite get. She was the quiet one, but he knew very well that still waters ran deep, and he had a feeling that she saw a lot more than she ever let on. He was about to say something to her, when Willow said, “Spike can help.”

He looked at the red-head suspiciously. “Help with what?” They were still trying to cajole him into acting out a human triangle when Buffy came out. The vampire could see the stiffness of her posture, and unlike the others, he could hear what she was muttering under her breath. Apparently, whatever had happened at Dawn’s school had really jarred her.

“I thought I told you to do your homework, Dawn,” Buffy snapped.

Dawn’s head shot up, a hurt look on her face. “I am. I was. Willow was helping me.”

“Dawn-” Buffy’s voice held a warning.

Willow stepped in, trying to play peacemaker. “We were just trying to explain the different triangles, Buffy. Really.”

Buffy hesitated ever so slightly. “Fine, but I think it might be better if Dawn does her homework at home.”

Willow stared at her, seeming to realize that something was seriously wrong. “Are you sure, Buffy? I could help if you want to stay.”

“No, I think we should both go home.” Buffy looked over at Spike. “You want to meet me tonight?”

Spike nodded hesitantly. He could still smell the fear on her. “Sure, Slayer. Slight change of plans, though. You want me to come to the house?”

She nodded, and then motioned to Dawn. “Let’s go.”

“This is so not fair,” Dawn muttered under her breath angrily, stomping out the door ahead of Buffy.

The vampire watched as they left, frowning slightly. He didn’t like the look of things.

~~~~~

Spike spent most of the day with the witches helping (aka distracting) them while they researched resurrection spells. Spike had, to his astonishment, discovered that he very much liked both of them, and not just because they were connected to Buffy. Perhaps it was because they both seemed to like him; he wasn’t quite sure.

Once the sun had set, he took off for the Summers’ residence, deciding to check Ben’s grave on the way. He wanted to be certain that the body hadn’t gone anywhere as long as they were going to be looking into other leads. It probably would have been a good idea to have the witches, or even the Whelp watch the grave while he and Buffy checked out Doc’s place. But Buffy had other things on her mind and obviously hadn’t thought about it, and Spike had Buffy on his mind.

And then he saw the grave, open, with all their carefully replaced dirt scattered everywhere. “Bloody hell,” he snarled, and took off running for the Slayer’s place.

“We’ve got a problem,” he announced as he stalked into the house, not even bothering to knock.

Buffy glanced up at him from where she was seated on the couch in the living room. “Well, hello to you too, Spike,” she said sourly.

He stared at her, not quite knowing how to interpret the mood she was obviously in. Over a century of living, and he still hadn’t figured out women. “The body’s gone.”

The Slayer sat up straight. “What do you mean, ‘the body’s gone?’”

“The body,” he replied impatiently. “Ben’s body. You know, the one they need for that blasted resurrection spell? It’s gone. Went by the graveyard on the way over here, and somebody’s already taken it.”

“Great,” Buffy muttered. “Just great. Exactly what I needed today. A missing body, a potentially resurrected Hellgod, and social workers breathing down my neck. Perfect.”

Spike stared at her. He got the body and the god part, the meanings there were pretty obvious, but he wasn’t so sure about the social workers. “Huh?”

She glanced over at him. “Sorry. When did they take the body?”

He hesitated, still trying to puzzle out what was going on, and then he shrugged. “Dunno. Had to have been some time today though. I stayed till dawn last night, an’ I went by not that long after sunset.”

“I thought you said graverobbing was a nighttime sport,” Buffy accused.

Spike raised his hands in a gesture of defense. “Don’t blame me, Slayer. I stayed last night, I went by tonight, I did my part. Daylight stakeouts aren’t a possibility for me.”

Her face softened a little. “I know, Spike. I’m sorry I snapped. This hasn’t been the best day.” Spike was still trying to get over the fact that she’d apologized, when she continued. “Okay, we’ve got a missing body. That means we either need to find out what they’ll need and keep them from getting it, or we need to figure out who’s doing it, and stop them.”

“Already there, Slayer,” Spike replied easily. “The guy who’s doin’ the spell, Doc, I think I know where we can find him. I have a pretty good idea anyway.”

Buffy nodded. “All right. Let me get my jacket, and we can go.”

“You want to wait until someone can get here to watch Dawn? I think Red and Glinda are still at the Magic Box.”

Buffy shook her head. “She should be fine on her own for a little while. I’ll call Giles and let him know what’s going on, and he can send someone over. It shouldn’t take too long for one of the gang to get here.” She left to get her jacket and make the call while Spike waited for her by the door. It still seemed odd to be inside her house without Joyce there to offer him a cuppa. He figured it had to be that much worse for the Slayer and her sister. Joyce would be missed for a long time to come.

“Let’s go,” Buffy stated, heading out the door, not even looking behind her to see if he’d follow.

Spike managed to keep up with the Slayer’s angry strides easily enough. He was waiting for her to realize that he knew where they were going while she didn’t. After a couple blocks, she stopped and looked back at him. “Okay, Spike. Where are we going again?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Sure you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, luv?” Buffy simply looked at him, unable or unwilling to explain. He sighed. “Fine, then. It’s this way.” They had been going in basically the right direction; if they hadn’t he would have stopped her earlier. But Spike still remembered the scent of fear on her earlier that day, and he broached the subject again, wondering if he was just being stupid for wanting to know so badly.

“I know everything isn’t fine, Buffy.” Spike glanced over at her again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was a note of pleading in his tone, and Buffy couldn’t help asking. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because you matter to me,” he said reproachfully. “You should know that by now.”

Heaven help her, she did know it. It was hard to miss with him always around, telling her with his eyes, if not his voice, that he loved her. Not fair, she wanted to cry. Not fair that Angel hadn’t loved her this much, not enough to stay. Not fair that his curse made it impossible for them to be together. Not fair that she hadn’t been able to love Riley, to give him what he needed. Why on earth did it have to be Spike? And why on earth did she have to be falling for him? Because at this point she could admit that the friendly feelings she had for him were rapidly becoming just a little more than that.

She sighed, knowing that every time she used him as a sounding board, every time she told him what was going on before she told her friends, she was letting him that much further into her life. “Dawn’s principal wanted to talk to me about the fact that she’s been skipping classes. And her grades are falling, which makes sense since she’s never there.”

Spike frowned, trying to see things from the Slayer’s point of view. Dawn was a teenager, therefore Dawn should be in school. Skipping classes, while not necessarily right up there with murder, was bad. “Wouldn’t tell the Niblet this,” he began hesitantly, “but she’s been through a lot recently. Could just be a stage she’s goin’ through.”

“Which is what I said,” Buffy replied. “Unfortunately, that really doesn’t matter when they’re talking about legal guardianship. Basically the principal warned me that if I can’t make Dawn go to school, they’re going to take her away from me.”

“Oh.” Spike wasn’t quite sure what to say about that. It didn’t seem right, somehow, them threatening that kind of thing.

“Yeah, oh,” Buffy said glumly. “And of course Dawn isn’t helping, because she’s still talking about how she isn’t real and that she shouldn’t have to go to school. I don’t think she’s coping very well either, you know, with friends and stuff.”

Spike was feeling more than a little out of his league at this point, not sure of what to say to her to make it better. Not sure that he could make it better. So he just listened, and finally said, “Anything I can do, luv. You know that.”

Buffy smiled at him. “I know.”

Then they were at Doc’s place, and there was no more time to say the things they might have liked to say. Unfortunately, while both were in the mood for a little violence, it didn’t look like they were going to get any. Doc had cleared out, though from what Spike could tell, he’d left in a hurry, and there were more than a few things he’d left behind. “What now?” Spike asked.

Buffy frowned. “I guess we need to get this stuff back to Giles. He might be able to make some sense out of it, figure out what they’re planning exactly. We need to find out where they’re doing this. I don’t want to have to face Glory again if I can help it.”

“Don’t blame you, pet,” he replied, grabbing one of the boxes. “Let’s go then.”

Willow and Tara were at the Magic Box when she and Spike got back, looking a little frantic. “Buffy!” Willow stood when they entered. “Dawn’s gone.”

The Slayer’s eyes widened. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Willow said. “Tara and I headed over there as soon as Giles got your call. By the time we got there, Dawn was gone. It looked like someone forced the door.”

Buffy shook her head. “But who? And when? There must have been like what, twenty minutes in between when we left and you got there?”

“They were watchin’ the house,” Spike said dully. “Bloody hell, I can’t believe I didn’t see them, didn’t sense them at least.”

“It’s not your fault,” Buffy snapped, more out of anger at herself than him. She’d had similar thoughts, and felt that it was her fault for not waiting for someone to get there. “Dammit. Where’s Giles?”

“Right here,” her Watcher replied, coming out of the back room. “I just called Xander and Anya. They should be here shortly.”

“Great,” Buffy said. “We have a missing body, a missing demon, and a missing Dawn.”

“You think they’re connected?” Spike asked.

Giles pulled his glasses off to clean them. “It seems a bit too coincidental to not be.” He frowned and looked over at Spike. “How are you at tracking?”

Spike blinked. “You asking me if I can follow the Bit’s scent?” At Giles’ nod, he hesitated. “Dunno,” he confessed. “’m not a bloodhound, but if the trail’s fresh enough, maybe.” Spike was reluctant to finish his thought, but continued anyway. “More scared she is, easier it’ll be to find her. Fear’s about like blood to a vampire. Not quite so easy to trace, but it helps.”

Buffy breathed out quickly. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I guess we have to hope that Dawn’s scared silly then.” She turned to the witches and Giles. “Look, go through the stuff that we brought back. Hopefully that’ll help us figure out what’s going on with the resurrection spell. We have at least until tomorrow night on that one. Spike and I will try to find Dawn. Staying here isn’t going to do us any good right now.”

Giles nodded reluctantly. “I agree. Finding Dawn has to be our first priority. If you can’t manage it, however, I’d like you both to come back here immediately.”

“Done,” Buffy said. “Let’s go, Spike.”

They went back to the house on Revello Drive, where Spike took a deep breath, trying to find the scent. He frowned slightly and sniffed again, while Buffy watched worriedly. They had no other way to find Dawn other than Spike’s abilities, and she gave a relieved sigh when he nodded decidedly. “This way.”

Buffy watched him as he followed the trail, his lean form almost cat-like as he moved, sometimes almost running, sometimes moving more slowly. He wasn’t wearing the duster much anymore, she realized. Knowing how he’d gotten it, Buffy could understand why. It was that missing coat that made her realize how deep the change in him went, however. She’d seen faint signs of change before the curse, but he would never have considered not wearing the duster, not for a moment.

Finally, he slowed down, pausing outside a construction yard. “That’s where they took her,” he whispered.

Buffy looked around, and she could see the scabby minions moving around. “Can you tell where?”

“Not without going in there,” he replied. “Not enough cover and too much activity for that right now.”

Buffy had to agree. Sneaking in was not going to be fun. Or, at least, it could turn out very unpleasantly for the both of them if they were caught. “Still, if Dawn’s in there…” she trailed off, and Spike nodded.

“Can’t help but think they wanted her for something,” he agreed. “Better to get her out of there now maybe.”

“Inside there,” Buffy said quietly, pointing to the only building on the premises that was actually built, and really the only place to secure someone.

Spike nodded, and they circled the site until they could find a hole in the chain link fence. He held it back for her so she could duck through and then followed quickly. Buffy went from shadow to shadow, trying to remain unseen as Spike watched her back. The Slayer had to admit it was nice to have Spike there. She felt safer.

They made their way to the building, and when Buffy peeked in one of the windows she saw no sign of her sister. “I don’t see her,” she hissed.

“We’ll have to get inside,” he replied, his lips barely touching her ear. “The window, there.” He pointed up, towards an open window, and Buffy shook her head reluctantly. “Someone should tell Giles and the others where we are.”

“You go, luv,” he murmured. “I’ll grab the Niblet.”

“Spike-”

“You go,” he insisted. “I’ll meet you back at the shop.” When Buffy still hesitated, he grabbed her by the shoulder. “If I don’t make it, you’ll need to come with backup. Go back to the Magic Box. If Dawn and I aren’t there in an hour, you know what to do.”

Buffy searched Spike’s eyes, trying to understand why he was suddenly suicidal. What she saw was complete assurance that if he couldn’t handle it, she could. “Fine. We’ll wait an hour, but no more.” Hesitantly, she touched his cheek. “Be careful.”

“Of course.” Spike watched her go, knowing he’d done the right thing. The Slayer would be able to get her Watcher and her friends to come without question, whereas they would be much more reluctant to listen to him. Besides, if he did run into trouble, he was more likely to survive than the Slayer.

He waited until he was sure she was gone and then opened the window further, trying not to make a sound. Pulling himself through and dropping down, he crept quietly through the building, trying to catch the Bit’s scent. She was close, he could tell, and scared to death. But he couldn’t smell her blood, and that was a good sign.

Spike found the room Dawn was in by trial and error, and when she saw him, her eyes lit up and she opened her mouth to speak. He gave her a quick shake of the head, and then went to work freeing her hands. “You came,” she whispered joyfully. “Where’s my sister?”

“Getting help,” the vampire hissed. “We’re s’posed to meet her back at the shop. What happened?”

Dawn shook her head. “Some demons came in, right after you left, and grabbed me. I tried to fight back, but there were too many of them.”

“Shh,” he comforted. “I’m gonna get you out of here, pet. Just hold tight.” Dawn’s eyes suddenly widened, and he knew there was someone behind him.

The girl’s hands and feet were free, however, and Spike pulled her to her feet and shoved her behind him. “Well, this is interesting,” the small, unimposing man said. “I hadn’t thought to find a vampire in here. Perhaps the Slayer, but not you.”

“I have business here,” Spike said, his voice dangerously soft.

Doc smiled an evil little smile. “Is that right?” And then he moved so quickly, Spike never saw it coming.

Chapter 10: The Nick of Time

Buffy looked at the clock for the umpteenth time, glancing impatiently at Giles, who was still going over the materials they’d found at Doc’s. Spike had asked for an hour, and only half that time had passed, but still Buffy was worried. She should have insisted he come back with her to get backup. She should have sent him back instead. They should have gone in together. A hundred different things might have gone wrong, and she didn’t like thinking about any one of them.

“Ah hah!” Giles exclaimed, shaking his finger at the text in front of him excitedly. “I think I’ve found the ritual this individual plans to perform. I believe the reason they took Dawn was because they need her blood for it to work, to bring Glory back full strength.”

“Why Dawnie’s blood?” Willow asked. “They don’t know she’s the Key, do they?”

Giles shook his head. “It seems he might have done a locator spell for the correct sacrifice,” he said slowly. “There are instructions here that would indicate another spell that would allow a person to pinpoint the necessary ingredients. He needed someone with potent blood, and that might have been either Buffy or Dawn; Buffy because she is the Slayer, and Dawn because she is the Key. My guess is that he went for the easiest target.”

Buffy stood. “Fine. He needs Dawn’s blood? He’s not getting it. Let’s go. We need to get there before he can raise Glory.”

“Didn’t Spike say to give him an hour?” Xander asked. “Maybe we should wait, just in case he’s already on his way back.”

“I’m not waiting,” Buffy replied. “I didn’t like leaving him there on his own in the first place.” She looked around. “We need weapons.”

“We can take whatever’s in the shop of course,” Giles offered.

Anya immediately perked up. “Oh, take the troll hammer! If Glory does show up, you can use it to pound her into a sticky paste.”

Buffy smiled grimly and grabbed the hammer. “Good thinking, Anya. One sticky paste coming right up.”

They all left the shop armed. Willow and Tara had their magic, Giles carried a sword and crossbow, Anya had a sharpened baseball bat, and Xander carried an ax. The Slayer wasn’t at all sure what they were getting themselves into. Her only thought was of grabbing Dawn and getting out. If this Doc guy actually managed to raise Glory, and Buffy couldn’t put her back in the ground, they would need to run.

“What will you do if Glory returns?” Giles asked in a low tone as they made their way to the construction site.

“Get Dawn, and get out of here,” Buffy replied evenly. “But first I’m going to try putting her back where she belongs. I’m just really, really tired of this Hellgod thing.”

“Buffy,” Giles said urgently. “If she does come back, it is imperative that you kill her as soon as possible. The more time she has, the stronger she will become.”

“If they’re even doing it tonight,” Buffy muttered. “I thought that scabby little weasel said we had another day.”

“Perhaps he was mistaken,” Giles replied. “Or perhaps they had to move the day up for whatever reason. It doesn’t matter now.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Buffy agreed. “Because right now, I’m in the mood to kick some demon ass.”

They drove to the site, taking both Giles’ and Xander’s cars. Once there, Buffy led the way to the loose fencing where she and Spike had entered not even an hour before. Buffy was slightly unsure of what to do next. Surprise was still possible, and if they all went through the window, they might still manage it. But she had no idea where her sister or Spike were, or where exactly the ritual was supposed to take place.

“Stay here,” she warned Giles. “I’m going to see if I can find Spike or Dawn.” Buffy followed the same path as Spike, sneaking down the hallway and opening doors until she found him. He was sprawled on the floor, blood seeping out from under him, and Buffy ran to where he lay and rolled him over.

“Slayer,” he said quietly. “You’re early.”

“You were late,” she replied. “Where’s Dawn?”

“Wanker took her outside,” he muttered. “I couldn’t stop him. He was too quick for me.”

Buffy looked grim. “They need Dawn’s blood to perform the ritual.”

“Then you need to get to her,” he replied, his eyes barely open. “Go, Buffy. Don’t worry about me.”

She gave him a look, and then slipped off her jacket, rolling it up and placing it over the wound in his side. Buffy grabbed his hand and put it over the cloth, forcing him to apply pressure. “I’ll be back,” she promised, and then left at a run.

Buffy met the others outside. “Spike was hurt trying to get Dawn out of there. He said they took Dawn outside somewhere.”

They snuck around the building, and it wasn’t hard to see where the ritual was taking place. A bier with Ben’s body lay in the center of a circle of Glory’s minions. Dawn and a rather unimposing elderly man could just be made out in the center. Buffy could see that Dawn had already been cut; her sister’s hand was around one wrist, and blood could be seen seeping out through her fingers.

“Giles, they’ve already started the ritual,” Buffy said, alarmed.

The Watcher took quick stock of the situation. “We need to get in there. We might still be able to interrupt the process.”

“All right,” Buffy agreed. “But if we can’t stop it, I want you to grab Dawn and head out of here. I’ll see what I can do about Glory.”

“Are you certain?” Giles asked quietly. “It won’t be Glory, it will be Ben that you’ll be facing.”

Buffy’s face hardened. “If it means saving Dawn, then I think I can deal. Besides, he’s already dead. I’m just going to do him a favor and makes sure he stays that way.”

The others had been listening to their whispered conversation, and now Buffy paused to give directions to the troops. “Giles, take Willow and Tara around to the other side. You concentrate on stopping the ritual. Xander, Anya and I will try to get through from this side.”

“Are you sure about this?” Xander asked as the others crept off. He watched the demons’ activities anxiously.

Buffy gave him a little smile. “No, but I am sure that I’m not letting that Hellbitch come back if I can help it. She was starting to really annoy me.” Buffy watched to be sure she could see Giles and the witches on the other side of the circle, and she nodded to the other two. “Let’s go.”

They all charged in, with only Willow and Tara holding back, their hands clasped. The Wiccans were waiting for an opportune moment to disrupt the magics surrounding the ritual itself. Such a disruption was not an easy prospect, and it would be very easy to botch the job.

Buffy went for Glory’s minions with her hammer, feeling a great sense of satisfaction as they went flying in every direction. Even the crunching sounds were giving her all kinds of stress relief. It was really too bad they didn’t put up more of a fight, because the battle was all too short for her taste. The lack of a challenge made it harder to concentrate on the fight instead of on her sister’s whimpers and tear-stained face. She was soon left facing the Doc, however, who was holding a golden cup full of Dawn’s blood.

“You’re too late, Slayer.” The man greeted her with equanimity. “The ritual will be completed, and the great Glorificus will return.”

“You know, I’m getting really tired of hearing that,” Buffy replied, taking a step forward with her hammer. “What if we don’t want her back?”

Doc smiled kindly. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.” Before Buffy or anyone else could move, he darted to the body, pouring the blood in its already open mouth.

There was a moment of hushed stillness as they all waited for the worst to happen. The corpse, however, didn’t even twitch, and Doc stood there waiting for, well, something.

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “Anybody else find this rather anticlimactic?”

Xander, Willow, Tara, and Anya raised their hands. Doc was looking a trifle pissed off, but before he could take his anger out on the nearest person, Willow grabbed Tara’s hand and they both called out something in Latin. Dawn was pushed toward the witches as though by a giant hand, and they caught her and started to rush her off, Giles following close behind.

Buffy, on the other hand, was looking at the still-dead corpse with a smug little smile. “Finally,” she said. “Something goes wrong for somebody who isn’t me.” She didn’t hesitate when Doc rushed toward her, remembering what Spike had said about the demon being too quick for him.

If she’d spent any time at all in the batting cages, she might have said it was like trying to hit a fast ball. But Slayer reflexes and a quick eye were up to the challenge. The hammer hit Doc’s head with a nice, meaty splat, and the demon collapsed in front of her. Buffy made a face. “Okay, that was gross.”

She looked back at Xander and Anya who were both watching with similarly disgusted looks on their faces. “Not to raise the ick factor here,” Xander said. “But shouldn’t we do something about the body? You know, make sure it can’t be used again?”

Giles came up to stand behind them. Danger over, there was no need to run. “We probably should burn the body,” he agreed. “That, and scattering the ashes in running water should take care of the danger.”

Buffy turned to look at Dawn, who was standing behind her with a mixture of pain and relief on her face. “Are you okay?”

Dawn nodded. “I don’t think the cut was very deep.”

Tara nodded her agreement. “It’s probably not hospital worthy. A few butterfly bandages and some gauze, and she should be fine.”

“Guys?” Dawn asked quietly. “Where’s Spike?”

~~~~~

It took a while to get everyone settled. Spike was unconscious by the time they got back to him. Doc had all but eviscerated him. Buffy decided to bring him back to her house where she could keep an eye on both the vampire and her sister at the same time.

Doc being a resurrection expert, Giles wanted to take extra special care with his body, and Ben’s body needed to be burned. He and Xander handled of both of those very dirty jobs, and then they all met back at Buffy’s house to try and figure out what exactly had gone wrong. Or, well, from their point of view, what had gone right.

“Did you see the look on his face when nothing happened?” Dawn asked, now able to laugh a little bit over the whole incident. A fresh shower, bandage, and hot chocolate had repaired much of the damage and restored her sense of humor. “I mean, I thought somebody had hit him over the head.”

Buffy smiled, more with relief than anything else. Glory was definitely gone for good, which meant she could rest easy on that front. Her sister was safe, and Spike was going to unlive. Not a bad ending to the day. She still had one question remaining though.

“Giles, why didn’t the ritual work? Not to complain or anything, but wasn’t it just a little odd?”

“As you said, it was rather anticlimactic,” Giles said. He was still trying to get his bearings after that rather stunning ending. “The only thing I can think of was that he had the wrong ingredients.”

“You mean, he screwed up the spell?” Xander asked. “How often does that happen for us?”

Willow perked up. “You know, resurrection spells are tricky. Maybe one of the ingredients had lost their potency or something.”

Giles blinked. “Of course.” He looked over at Dawn. “Forgive me, Dawn, but do you remember what knife he used?”

“With me, you mean?” Dawn asked. “It was the one he dropped. I thought you picked it up.”

“We did,” Giles replied. “But was it the same one he used on Spike?”

Dawn thought for a minute and then shrugged. “I think so. At least, I only ever saw him with one knife.”

Giles nodded, satisfied. “That’s it then. As Willow said, resurrection spells are tricky. Most likely, he forgot to clean the blade and your blood and Spike’s was mixed.”

“Which would have reduced both the potency and the purity!” Willow exclaimed. “Looks like Spike saved the day without even realizing it.”

Xander made a sour face. “Darn. I suppose I’m going to have to be nice to him now.”

~~~~~

Spike’s eyes blinked open to see the Slayer looking back at him. “You know, we really have to

stop meeting like this,” she said cheerfully.

“How’s Dawn?” he asked, struggling to sit up.

Buffy smiled. “She’s good. Pretty much back to normal even. How do you feel?”

“Like I came this close to havin’ my guts on the ground,” he muttered. He managed to sit up and lean back against the wall, swinging his legs over the side of the cot with some difficulty. It looked as though he was back in the Slayer’s basement. “Want to tell me what happened after I got put out of commission?”

Buffy gave him the details and watched as he winced when she told him Dawn had been bled. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly.

“Like hell,” he replied. “Little bastard was too quick for me. Wasn’t expectin’ that.”

She offered him a hand. “Do you think you can make it up the stairs? I’ve got blood for you.”

Spike took the hand she offered and stood with a groan, muttering curses the whole way. “Lead the way, luv,” he said, following more slowly. He wasn’t nearly as badly hurt as he had been just a few short weeks ago. A few days and he’d be fully functional again.

He let her heat the mug up in the microwave and hand it to him. Spike drank the blood down as quickly as possible, and then readily took her offer of another bag. He’d lost a lot of blood.

“So how are you feeling, Slayer?” he asked once he was feeling a bit more like himself.

“Me?” Buffy looked surprised that he’d even asked. “I’m fine.”

“Now that Glory’s gone?”

Spike couldn’t quite read the expression that flashed across her face, but he suspected that Buffy hadn’t truly been able to grieve her mother yet. There had been too much going on. Her next words confirmed it for him. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “I’ve been too busy to really think about it.” She gave him a half-hearted little smile. “I didn’t want to think about it.”

Spike’s gaze softened. “And if you could have one wish, what would it be, luv?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes searching her face. “Pretend I could give you anything, Buffy. What would it be?”

Buffy stared at him, not sure where this was going, and not wanting to wish for something she could never have. At the same time, the way Spike was looking at her made her want to believe that he could give her anything she asked for. “I wish my mom would come back, and that I could go back to my nice college life and not have to worry about anything more than the next vampire. I wish I’d never heard of a Hellgod and that Dawn had always been my sister and was never anyone’s Key. I wish people didn’t keep leaving me.”

The vampire gave her a wistful look. “An’ I wish I could give you all that an’ more, Buffy. Feel like givin’ me something I can tackle?”

She smiled. “Then I wish I could have just one evening where I could be normal-girl.”

“Done,” Spike replied. Feeling greatly daring he stood and placed a fleeting, chaste kiss on her lips.

He was gone moments later, the sun having set. Buffy was left standing in her kitchen, her lips still tingling from the contact. “I don’t know what it says about me,” she muttered out loud, “but that was the best kiss I’ve had in forever.”

Chapter 11: Hoping’s Very Fears

Buffy didn’t have much time to think about Spike’s promise over the next couple days. She had work to catch up on for her class, plus trying to get ready for the final. There was a delinquent younger sister to corral, making sure she actually went to school and did her homework. Plus, of course, there were bills to pay, finances to go over, decisions to make on what was to be done with the gallery, as well as her mother’s things. The list went on ad infinitum. All in all, the last thing on her mind was an evening out as normal-girl and a certain peroxided person of the undead persuasion.

Perhaps that was what made the surprise all the sweeter when Dawn came running up the stairs that Saturday, beaming and slightly out of breath. “Buffy! You got a package!”

Buffy frowned, putting the finishing touches on the final project for her poetry class, and then followed Dawn downstairs. “Are you sure it’s for me, Dawnie?” she asked, trying to figure out who would send her something, and what it might be.

“It has your name on it,” Dawn assured her.

The package, a long, white box, was sitting on the kitchen table, and Buffy walked toward it with a feeling of trepidation. “Who brought it?”

“Delivery guy, just a few minutes ago.” Dawn shrugged. “Whoever it was, they just knocked and left.”

Her curiosity peaked, the Slayer approached cautiously, pulling the bow that held it closed and slowly lifting off the lid. Inside were a dozen roses of various hues and a note in a neat little parchment envelope. “Well, aren’t you going to read what it says?” Dawn asked impatiently when Buffy showed no sign of moving.

Buffy reached out for the envelope, feeling as though she was living a dream. It had been forever since anyone had thought to give her flowers. She was certain she knew who they were from, of course, but still-roses. And a note. It was nice.

Then she read the note, and it was more than nice.

Buffy,

You said you hadn’t had much chance for flowers and poetry, so I thought I’d give it a try. Would have done the red roses, but wasn’t sure you were quite ready for that yet. Next time maybe. And I’d have written the poem myself, but that would be sure to scare you off. So the words aren’t mine, but the sentiment is. If you want the evening out, love, meet me at the Bronze tonight at 8. If you don’t show, no harm done, and I won’t mention it again. As always, your faithful servant,

Spike

silently if,out of not knowable

night’s utmost nothing,wanders a little guess

(only which is this world)more my life does

not leap than with the mystery of your smile

sings or if(spiralling as luminous

they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,

less into heaven certainly earth swims

than each my deeper death becomes your kiss

losing through you what seemed myself,i find

selves unimaginably mine;beyond

sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears

yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:

yours is the darkness of my soul’s return

--you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

Buffy recognized the style easily enough from her poetry class. E.E. Cummings was always easy to spot with his distinctive phrasing and creative punctuation. For some reason, she was surprised that Spike knew of him, but it seemed just one more aspect of his character that awaited discovery. But more than the surprise, there was the sense of being touched deep down inside herself, a place Riley had never been able to reach. A place that Angel had only hit a couple times. The poem, and the feelings behind it, were all very real. Quite suddenly she couldn’t imagine not meeting Spike at the Bronze.

“Well?” Dawn finally demanded after too long a silence from her sister. Buffy wordlessly held out the note, letting her read it. Finally the younger girl looked up at her, and asked with a coy smile, “So what are you going to wear?”

~~~~~

Buffy knew she was being a little silly after she tried on, and discarded, the fifth outfit. After all,

Spike would be happy to see her whatever she wore, and the longer she took to make a decision, the more important the date itself became. And it wasn’t that important; it was just Spike. But every time she looked at his note, and the poem attached, she couldn’t help but go tingly all over.

Dawn was watching this whole performance with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, and she finally shook her head. “Buffy, just pick something. This is Spike.”

“So?” her sister responded. “Spike said he’d give me an evening out as a normal girl. Normal girls worry about what to wear on a date. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “You are so pathetic. Here.” She stood and starting pulling stuff out of the closet and handing it to Buffy. “Wear this. Spike will love it.”

Her younger sister had surprisingly good taste, because the light-weight black sweater and gray pants were both an attractive combo, and yet not too flirty. “Good call, Dawnie,” Buffy finally admitted.

The ringing of the phone stalled further conversation, and Buffy picked it up on the second ring. “Hello?”

Willow’s voice was cheerful. “Hey, Buffy. How ya doing?”

Buffy smiled. “Good. What’s up?”

“You want to come to the Bronze with us tonight? We all thought it might be good to have some down time, you know?”

Willow sounded so hopeful that Buffy hated to disappoint, but she was going to spend the evening with Spike. She wanted a date, and she was going to get it. “I actually have plans for tonight.”

“Plans?” Willow sounded surprised. “Oh, well, that’s good. With who?”

Buffy bit back a sigh. To tell, or not to tell, that was the question. Of course, if she went with the original plan, they might see her anyway. Explaining to Willow that she had a date with Spike was a bit daunting, however. “Spike.”

Buffy winced in anticipation of Willow’s reaction. “Like on a date?” There was definitely an alarmed squeak in her voice.

“Sort of.” Buffy quickly explained Spike’s promise and the note and flowers. Willow, romantic that she was, instantly melted.

“Oh, Buffy, that’s so sweet.” There was a pause, and then Willow spoke again, a puzzled note in her voice. “Wow. That really is sweet. From Spike.”

“I know.” Buffy sighed. “It’s not like we’re getting serious or anything, Wills, it’s just that I want a night out.”

Willow made a sound that Buffy interpreted as an agreement. “Well, sure. And with Spike you know if anything comes up he’s not gonna freak at the first sign of trouble.”

“No trouble,” the Slayer insisted. “Spike promised an evening trouble-free. Therefore, Buffy is looking forward to nothing more strenuous than a little time on the dance floor.”

Willow thought for a minute. “You definitely deserve it, Buf,” she agreed. “Who’s got Dawn-duty?”

“Dawn is spending the night at a friend’s house,” Buffy explained. “The only problem is Xander. If he sees me with Spike, good bye trouble-free night.”

“You let Tara and I handle Xander,” Willow reassured her. “You just concentrate on having a good time.”

~~~~~

Spike forced himself to not look at his watch again. He shouldn’t have gotten there early, it just made him that much more impatient for Buffy to arrive. It was past 8 though, and Buffy had yet to show up. He’d hated to get his hopes up, that she would show. “Hoping’s very fears,” indeed. His heart seemed a hostage to hope, these days.

The blonde vampire looked up from his drink suddenly. “Hello, luv.”

Buffy stood there smiling a little at him. It was a real smile, and it was just for him. “Hey. I like the roses.”

“Yeah?” Spike stood and pulled the other chair out for her. “’m glad, Buffy.” He waited until she had sat down before he did the same. “Wasn’t sure you were goin’ to come.”

“It was the poem that did it,” she confided.

He smirked. “Was that it? I’ll have to remember that in the future.”

“So what’s up with this date, huh?” she asked. “Are we actually going to do something, or are we just going to sit here all night?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Well, I s’pose we could dance, if you’ve a mind to.”

Her eyes challenged him. “I do.”

~~~~~

Tara craned her neck a little to get a better view of the couple on the dance floor. They were off

to the side and partially hidden in the shadows, so it was unlikely that Xander would catch sight of them any time soon. Even better, though not for him, was the fact that he had somehow strained a muscle. Just the fact that he wouldn’t say how, and Anya looking smug about it, told both her and Willow that they probably didn’t want to know.

She and her girlfriend exchanged a conspiratorial glance and then turned their attention back to the other couple. “So did Buffy say why she couldn’t make it?” Xander asked.

“Uh, no, not really,” Willow lied. Thankfully, she had gotten marginally better at not telling the truth over the years. “I think she just wanted some time to relax.”

Xander looked affronted. “And who better to relax with than her friends?” he demanded.

“Well, sometimes people need to relax alone, you know,” Tara said, quickly covering. Whatever happened to be going on between Buffy and the vampire, she didn’t need Xander on her back about it. Not tonight, anyway.

Anya nodded agreeably. “It’s sometimes good to spend time alone. I find myself refreshed after an evening of counting money by myself, and then I’m ready to have orgasms with Xander.”

Willow and Tara stifled giggles as Xander blushed. “An, honey, we talked about this. Let’s not mention that in front of my friends, okay?”

Anya shrugged, clearly not discomfited. “Fine, but you know it’s true.”

Xander could only look up at the ceiling, as though praying for patience. “Do you guys want anything to drink?” he asked, beginning to get up.

“I’ll get it,” Willow offered, throwing a slightly panicked look at Tara. “You sit, and rest your-” She paused. “Leg.”

“It wasn’t his leg that was strained, it was his-” Xander’s hand cut off the rest of what Anya was going to say as Willow started to walk away. And as the red-head walked past Spike and Buffy, she couldn’t help but see that they were oblivious to everyone and everything but each other.

~~~~~

“Tell me, luv,” Spike murmured. “Is this just for tonight? A one time thing? Or do you think we

could make a habit of it?”

Buffy sighed softly, feeling almost content, oddly enough. She’d never have guessed she could feel this happy in Spike’s arms. “You mean like actual dating?”

“Somethin’ like that.” His grip tightened almost imperceptibly. “You said you wanted to wait a bit before getting into another relationship. I was just wonderin’ if the waiting might be over.”

She pulled back a little to look at him. “Would flowers and poetry be a regular feature? Because that would definitely sway me in that direction.”

“Could be,” Spike replied with a hopeful grin.

“And maybe you could even write me a poem yourself,” Buffy suggested playfully.

“If I did that, I’d have to kill you, luv,” he said, his face deadly serious.

She laughed. “Come on, you can’t be that bad. You don’t know until you try.” Spike gave her a look, and Buffy’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. You have tried, haven’t you?”

“Long time ago, Buffy. And yeah, it was that bad.” His face showed no signs of the humor that had been there just a few minutes ago.

The Slayer shook her head. “That shouldn’t matter if the feeling behind it is right,” she argued.

Spike gave a bitter little laugh. “The poet’s sentiments don’t mean squat if the object of his affection bloody well hates him.”

“Then there would be no problem here,” Buffy replied.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side, studying her face. “You mean that? Does this mean we’re an item, you an’ me?”

“I think I might be convinced to go out with you.”

“Even though I’m a vampire? Without a soddin’ soul?” he asked.

She shrugged. “You’ve changed, and Angel’s been wrong before.” Buffy suddenly asked, “What changed you, Spike?”

The vampire smiled, surprised she didn’t already know the answer. “You did, luv.” He leaned down, his mouth next to her ear, and whispered, “’Losing through you what seemed myself, I find selves unimaginably mine; beyond sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears yours is the light by which my spirit’s born. Yours is the darkness of my soul’s return. You are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.’”

And then he kissed her, and Buffy drank of him deeply, losing herself and finding herself in the depths of his eyes and his love.