It was the same every week. One night each week she got this feeling of missing him so badly, this uncontrollable urge, and she’d wind up wandering through his cemetery. Eventually she’d end up at his crypt, staring at the ruin that seemed so accurately to epitomize the end of their relationship. Death. Destruction. Pain. Misery. She shook her head self-deprecatingly. Geez, Buffy. Depressing much? The thing of it was, she missed him. All she’d wanted was for him to leave her alone, and then he took off and she missed him. Not only that, but instead of remembering every painful moment they’d given one another, all she could seem to think about were the good moments, the little points in time where they’d truly enjoyed one another’s company. And it was hard to hate someone you were busy missing like crazy.

She climbed the steps to what had been his home, ran her hand over the half-burned hulk of the door. Clem had managed to save a great deal of Spike’s stuff, and had handed it over to her for safe-keeping when she’d asked. The demons that had done the damage had long since been cleared out. She’d come herself as soon as Clem told her about the problems he’d been having keeping the crypt safe for Spike. It had gotten to the point where he’d been afraid for his safety, and Buffy had told him to let it go. When Spike came back they would figure something out. She didn’t say if Spike came back. She couldn’t.

She entered silently, easily stepping over the remains of the door, and stood in the center of the room. It was completely trashed, and not for the first time did she wonder if she shouldn’t try to clean it up, just in case. Buffy had turned to go when a scrabbling sound caught her attention. It was coming from the corner, and she froze, thinking maybe a vampire had taken up residence since she’d been here last. “Hello?” she called. “I know you’re here. Might as well come out so I can stake you.”

Another whisper of sound caught her ears, and Buffy moved cautiously toward it. She could just barely make out the outline of a very grimy hand silhouetted against the soot covered floor. It withdrew from the little light the moon afforded through the half-destroyed door, squeezing itself even further into the corner, but Buffy had seen enough. Her hand shot out and grabbed the shadow, tossing it against the blackened bier, stake raised and ready for use.

Poised, her hand froze as what she was seeing registered. “Spike?” she whispered. The hand holding him down registered heat, and moving as though in slow motion, she moved it over to rest on his chest. And felt the beating of his heart.

The stake clattered to the floor, and she reached out to help him sit up. He was filthy. It looked as though every square inch of him were covered in dirt and grime. His hair was long and matted; it was impossible to tell the color, but it looked as though it had not been taken care of in a very long time. But most shocking of all was his general condition. Even in the dim light the moon afforded, his emaciated state was obvious, and the color of his cheeks spoke of fever, not good health. The only thing that had remained the same were his eyes, still the same deep blue, staring at her through tangles of hair.

“You’re sick,” she said, unnecessarily. When he made no reply, she draped one lax arm over her shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” She didn’t allow herself to think, just to react. Spike was in front of her, he was sick, he needed her help. There was nothing to do except take him home with her.

Buffy hadn’t expected anyone at the house after patrol. Willow had returned, but had made the decision to live on campus, and was busy taking summer courses. There were too many memories for her in the Summers’ house, and it was easier for her this way. Her sister would be at her friend Janice’s house spending the night; a regular Friday ritual. So, the sight of Xander swinging open the front door both surprised and displeased her. The last thing she needed at this point was one of Xander’s lectures on the evilness of the undead. Or ex-undead.

“Buffy?” he called. “Is something wrong? What happened?” She managed to get Spike inside the house before the other man recognized him. With instincts honed by seven years of demon fighting, he pulled Spike from the Slayer’s grip and slammed him up against the wall. “You bastard. I can’t believe you came back.”

Buffy immediately recognized the look on her friend’s face, and knew that nothing she said would get through to him. Spike certainly wasn’t doing anything to defend himself. He was simply looking at Xander with a dazed expression on his face, like he couldn’t actually process what was going on, which wouldn’t have surprised Buffy in the least. On the way home she’d realized that his fever was incredibly high; he was probably bordering on delirious at this point. Firmly, she grasped Xander’s wrist, and moved his hand from Spike’s shoulder to his chest, right over his beating heart.

Xander jerked back as though he’d been burned, and then reached out to catch Spike who had collapsed without anything holding him up. “Buffy?” he asked, his expression bewildered.

“Help me get him upstairs,” was all she said, telling him with her eyes that they could discuss this later. He frowned slightly, but didn’t argue. Now that he’d realized both Spike’s present alive status, as well as his poor condition, he wasn’t in the mood to kill him. They’d managed to maneuver him up the stairs, which wasn’t that difficult, considering that he was about thirty pounds underweight, and had just reached the bathroom door when Spike began to struggle.

Buffy glanced over at him and recognized that he knew where he was and he didn’t much like it, even in his delirium. Gritting her teeth, Buffy let Xander take his weight and came to stand in front of him. She took his chin in her hand and forced him to look her in the face. “I spent the last year going in and out of that bathroom,” she said quietly. “You can deal with it too.” He made no answer, but he quit struggling, and she let Xander get him into the bathroom and sit him gently down on the toilet seat.

Leaving him there, Xander pulled her just outside the door. “Buffy, I really think he needs to go to a hospital. His temperature is way too high.”

She sighed. “I know he’s sick, Xander, but he doesn’t have any identification or insurance. I don’t know how we’d get him treated.”

“I think we may have to try. A fever like that can do some lasting damage, and he’s in no shape to fight it off.” Xander’s face was twisted with concern, and Buffy realized that this was one of the things she liked about him so much. He had never really liked to see anyone suffer, even those he hated. Dead was okay maybe, but Xander had never been big on the whole torture thing when you got right down to it.

She nodded. “I know,” she repeated. “I’m going to get him cleaned up, hopefully bring the fever down that way. If he’s not better tomorrow, we can take him to the hospital. I still know some of the doctors that took care of Mom when she was sick. I might be able to convince one of them to look Spike over even without the whole insurance thing.”

Xander pursed his lips, then acquiesced, agreeing that she was probably right. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

Buffy hesitated, then reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’ll be all right. I can take care of everything from here. But if you wouldn’t mind stopping by tomorrow morning…”

He smiled and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll be by bright and early.” Sobering, he looked at her with dark, serious eyes. “You do understand that if he wasn’t halfway to dead there’d be no way I’d leave you alone with him, don’t you?”

She patted his arm. “I can take care of myself, Xander,” Buffy said with a smile. Xander headed down the stairs, and Buffy went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Spike seemed to be rousing a little from whatever state he’d been in when she found him. She started the bath water, thinking it would be easier to get him clean that way, though he was so dirty she’d probably have to run two baths. Once the water was running, she turned to him and started to unbutton the shirt he was wearing. She’d gotten it about half undone when his hands came down on hers.

“Buffy, no.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly from disuse, and weak.

“Spike,” she said, her tone gentle, with just an edge of exasperation. “I’ve seen everything you’ve got before. And you need to get cleaned up. Right now, I don’t think you can even stand on your own, let alone get your own bath.”

He removed his hand, shoulders slumped in resignation, and Buffy realized that this was broken-Spike she was looking at. Besides the whole human thing, he wasn’t the same. Something in his eyes had died. With a gentleness that had never been her trademark, she finished unbuttoning the shirt, and then helped him pull off the t-shirt he’d had on underneath. He leaned back against the toilet, bare-chested, as she knelt to remove his old boots. A sound emerged from his chest, somewhere in between a sob and a laugh. “Why are you doing this, Slayer?” he asked. Buffy finished taking off his boots and socks before looking up at him.

“Because you need this,” she said. She reached out to touch one hot cheek briefly and then reached over to turn the water off. Buffy pulled him to his feet and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hang on,” she ordered, and Spike stood obediently, hanging on as she undid his ruined jeans and let them drop to the floor.

There was a flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the fever, and Buffy fixed her eyes on his own so as not to give him more embarrassment than necessary. Hanging onto him tightly, she helped him climb into the tub. Once he was seated, she handed him a washcloth and a bar of soap. “Do what you can,” she said quietly. “I’m going to see if I can’t find something for you to wear, and I’ll be back to help you finish up.” She picked up what was left of his garments from the floor, and walked out, leaning against the closed door once she was outside.

From the moment she’d found him and realized who he was, she’d been intent on helping him. He was so frail she wanted to weep. It was all she could do not to cry out at the scars all over his torso and arms, the sight of his bones looking as though they would poke through milk-white, semi-transparent skin at any moment. She straightened. She would figure out how she felt about this later. She was Buffy, Queen of Denial, after all. She would find those clothes of his she’d packed away, and she’d get him cleaned up and tucked into bed, and somehow she’d get him better. When that was all done, she would have time to figure out what it meant now that he was back, in her house, and human.

~~~~~

Spike had managed to get most of himself clean, and get his hair wet when Buffy reappeared with a thick towel and some clothes in hand. “Let me get your back and then we’ll get your hair washed,” she said. She wasn’t sure this was the best thing for him, but she’d heard somewhere that a lukewarm bath was the best thing for a fever, and there was no way it could be good for him to be that dirty. He was silent as she gently rubbed the washcloth over his back, and then started the water running again so she could wash his hair.

She noticed that his eyes were closed as she rubbed the shampoo into his scalp, wincing as she involuntarily tugged too hard. “Sorry,” she murmured. She eased him back under the flowing water and made a face as she realized that his tangled locks were going to need a lot more than just a shampooing. “I think I’m going to have to give you a haircut,” she said quietly. “There’s some pretty bad tangles in here. I don’t think they’re going to come out.”

“Better shave the lot, pet,” he said hoarsely. His eyes opened to meet her surprised look. “Places I’ve been, wouldn’t be surprised if something’s made its home in there at this point.”

Buffy made a face. “Eww. Could you be more gross?” At the look on his face, her expression immediately softened. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out, Spike.”

“Know you didn’t. ‘Preciate the Florence Nightingale act.”

“It’s not an act,” she replied. “I think I might be channeling her. Come on. Let’s get you dried off and dressed. I don’t think the haircut’s going to take long, and I need to take your temperature.” Buffy let him do most of the drying, and then handed him a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt, letting him get dressed while she stood with her back turned. She sat him back down on the toilet seat, popped the thermometer in his mouth, and took out the scissors. She’d never claimed to be a beautician, and she knew how her last attempt at cutting hair had turned out, but by clipping the sides and back as closely as possible and leaving the top a little longer, it didn’t turn out too badly.

She brushed him off and pulled the thermometer out of his mouth. It felt as though his fever had gone down a little, but it was still over 102. Not of the good. “All right. You need to go to bed.”

“Isn’t this Red’s room?” he asked quietly as she led him through the door.

“No, she’s living on campus now,” Buffy replied. “This is actually my room.”

He pulled back slightly. “I can’t take your bed,” he protested. Buffy grabbed his arm before he could fall over.

“Oh yeah, and you’re in really good shape to be arguing. My old bed’s still in the other room, Spike. It’s not like I don’t have anywhere to sleep.” She pulled the covers down and got him into bed, pulling the sheets and blanket up around his chin. He shivered slightly, and Buffy frowned. “Are you cold?”

“Just a chill. Been havin’ ‘em for weeks now.”

Buffy didn’t respond, just left the room and came back with a few blankets. Spike didn’t protest when she started to spread them over him. In fact, he was beginning to strongly suspect that this was all a dream, and when he woke up from it he’d still be in his destroyed crypt, waiting to die. He was certain it was a dream when she reached out and touched his forehead with one cool hand. “Go to sleep, Spike. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

~~~~~

Spike kept both eyes tightly shut as he drifted up into consciousness. He’d had hundreds of

dreams in the time since he’d become human again, but the one he’d had last night was by far and away the best. He was well aware that as soon as he opened his eyes, the dream would fade, and he really didn’t want it to. But if there was anything he’d learned in the last year or so since he’d been gone, it was that sooner or later he would have to face the reality of his life.

He opened his eyes to find himself in Buffy’s bed, tucked under about four layers of blankets, and blessedly clean after months of feeling filthy. Shutting his eyes and opening them again, he waited to see if it would all go away, but it didn’t. “I see you’ve decided to join the land of the living,” Xander said from his position next to the bed. “In every way possible.”

Spike turned his head to look at the other man, who was sitting in a chair, feet propped up on the bed, and reading the newspaper. “Harris. Now I know I’m not dreaming. I guess you decided not to kill me after all.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, almost frightened at how weak he was. Managing to get himself propped up against the headboard, he looked over at Xander, who was holding out a glass of water.

“Well, you know, I haven’t actually killed a human yet, and wasn’t really planning on starting last night. Here, drink. You’re pretty dehydrated.” Xander handed the glass to Spike, keeping his hand on it to hold it steady.

“Where’s Buffy?”

“Catching up on some much needed sleep,” Xander replied, replacing the now-empty glass on the nightstand. “You want to tell me where you went?”

“Not particularly, no.” Spike was still feeling feverish, which didn’t make for him having a very good attitude. But at Xander’s patient gaze, he sighed. Why he should unburden his soul to the Whelp, he had no idea, but he was there, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to do all that much talking to Buffy. “I went to Africa. Saw a demon, and got myself turned back into a human. Satisfied?” He couldn’t keep the snarkiness out of his tone.

“And you came back, why?” Xander asked, some measure of snideness in his own voice.

“Where else was I supposed to go, Harris?” Spike asked, genuinely puzzled. “This is home. Besides, by the time that demon got done with me, I was operating mostly on instinct. I’ve been in and out of things since then. Got back here and just collapsed. Don’t really know a whole lot beyond that.”

Xander hesitated, feeling a very unwelcome sympathy with the other man. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Spike, but seeing him lying there, too thin, cheeks flushed with fever, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I can’t say anybody actually missed you, but you could have ended up in a worse place.”

“I’ve already been in worse places,” Spike replied.

Xander might have made another comment, but Buffy walked into the room. “Hey,” she said, looking from one to the other. She was a little surprised to see Spike sitting up, and she wasn’t exactly sure what to say to a coherent Spike. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like death would be an improvement,” he replied. Buffy smiled a little at his response, and Xander, sensing their need to be alone, stood up to leave.

“You know, I’m going to see what I can do with the basement while I’m here, Buf. If you need me, just let me know.” He looked from Spike to Buffy, dark eyes somber.

“Sure,” Buffy made another attempt at a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ll be fine.” She watched as Xander left and then turned back to her patient. “We should probably check your temperature again.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Spike said quietly. “If you don’t want me here, say the word, and I’m gone.”

“And where are you going to go?” Buffy demanded angrily. “Back to your crypt? One more night there, and you probably would have been dead.”

“That’s a problem? Why should it matter if I’m dead or alive?”

“Oh, right. So I can come by and find your body on another night and figure out you became human post mortem. That’s really fair to me, Spike.”

He stared at her, blue eyes incredulous. “That’s a regular stop for you, Slayer? I would have thought that was the last place you’d want to be.”

“I could feel you there. I missed you.”

Now that it was out, the words hung between them, heavy with emotion. “No. No, you didn’t. You couldn’t. After—”

“After what you did?” Buffy stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. “What you did was horrible. But I’ve had a year to think about it, about what happened between the two of us. It was bad, but that doesn’t mean that I ever wanted you dead.”

Spike looked away, unwilling to meet her eyes. “I wish I could say I was sorry, but that’s not good enough. Just—why are you doin’ this?”

Buffy stared at the floor, silent. She had never been one to share deep feelings, and this was definitely bordering on the deep. “Let’s just say it’s to make up for all the times I didn’t and I should have.” She crossed the room to sit down on the bed beside him, reaching out to touch wiry curls. “Doesn’t look too bad, if I do say so myself.”

“Wouldn’t know. I’m still not too big on the mirrors.” There was pain in his eyes that tore at Buffy’s heart.

“Here,” she said, breaking the mood intentionally. “You should probably take some Advil or Tylenol or something for that fever, and I need to take your temp.”

He nodded, rubbing his eyes. “I could use something. This headache’s getting worse.”

Buffy frowned, her concern for him growing. “I’ll be right back.” She went to the bathroom, getting the bottle out of the medicine cabinet and refilling the glass with water. “How long have you had the headache?” she asked, handing him both the pills and the glass.

His hands shook as he took both from her, but he managed to hold the glass steady enough to down the pills. “Last four months or so, I guess,” he admitted.

“And how long have you been sick?” Her hand rested gently against the side of his face, and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the sensation that someone cared whether or not he lived or died.

“About four months. Was in L.A. for a while. Thought about lookin’ Angel up, but wasn’t feelin’ up to it.” He looked at her, then looked away, still unwilling to meet her eyes.

Buffy took the thermometer and stuck it in his mouth without further questioning. She wanted to know everything, and nothing. Of all the men in her life who had left, he was the only one who’d come back. And she had a niggling suspicion that if she asked, he would tell her why he’d become human, why he had a soul, and that it would have been for her. It made her responsible for him in a very real way, and that frightened her more than anything else.

The fever was still edging up past 102, and she frowned. If it didn’t come down soon, she’d have to take Xander up on his suggestion of the night before and take Spike to the hospital. “Do you think you could eat something?” she asked. “I know you probably need your sleep, but you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in months.”

“Make that a year, Slayer, and you’ll be closer to the truth.” He hesitated, and then nodded. “Can’t make any promises about keepin’ it down, but I’ll give it a shot.”

When she’d fed him most of a plateful of eggs and toast, he just drifted off to sleep. Buffy reached out to touch his forehead once again. It seemed she couldn’t get enough of him. She had missed him badly, and now she wasn’t sure she quite believed that he lay before her. After a time of watching his chest rise and fall, a movement that fascinated her, she went back downstairs to see Xander in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwhich. “You don’t mind do you, Buf?” he asked.

“What? Mind if you eat my food? When have I ever minded in the past?” She smiled to let him know she was teasing. “So, how goes the basement making?”

He smiled at her. He’d matured in the last year, and in recent months had managed to lose quite a bit of weight and regain the swim-team physique he’d had in high school. Only more muscular. Buffy had to admit he looked good. When she’d asked him about it, he had kind of ducked his head, and replied, “I figured it was time to take my head out of my ass and move on, Buf. Anya and I aren’t going to get back together, and if I ever want another woman to look at me, it would probably help if I didn’t look like the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

She hadn’t argued with him, though he’d never truly looked that bad. He had started dating again, though slowly, and he still spent most of his weekends over at her house working on the basement. He’d suggested that he finish it for her. Said it would bring up the retail value of the house and it would give her a little more room. He had even told her that he could make a very cozy training room. Buffy had let him go ahead, partly because it had obviously helped him take his mind off of other things (a.k.a. Anya) and partly because she could see the value of his suggestion.

“Up to the mudding phase of the drywall,” he replied. “Which is why I look like I’ve been in a blizzard. How’s Spike?”

Buffy shrugged a little, and cleaned the plate off into the sink. “His temperature is still high, and he’s got a headache. He managed to eat something, though, and it looks as though he’s going to be able to keep it down.” She put the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher, then turned to face him. “I think you might have been right about the hospital. I think he’s been sick for a pretty long time. It’s going to take a little more than a comfy bed and regular meals to get him on his feet again.”

“Is that what you’re really trying to do?” he asked her. “Get him on his feet again so you can get him out the door?”

Buffy met his eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything about what happened between me and Spike,” she said, her tone brooking no opposition. “What’s done is done. It’s in the past. I don’t even think that’s the same person upstairs.”

Xander frowned. He hated admitting it, but human Spike wasn’t the same. It wasn’t that he was particularly prejudiced (though deep down he knew he was), but humans were easier to deal with, easier to trust. Even if he didn’t like them, he at least knew what to expect from them. Or he thought he did. A human Spike presented a new problem for his moral structure. Humans could be forgiven; evil creatures should not be because they might turn on you. Spike was a demon, therefore he shouldn’t be forgiven for what he’d tried to do. But Spike was a human, which meant he might be okay. The whole thing made his head hurt. “Fine, Buffy. I’m just saying, we don’t really know how much he’s changed.”

“No, we don’t,” she agreed softly. “But we didn’t know how much Willow had changed when she came back, and we took her back just the same. If I want to do the same for Spike, that’s my decision.”

He nodded, reluctantly. Xander truly was trying to do a better job about not being a control freak when it came to Buffy’s love life, but it was difficult, and Spike had been a part of her life he’d both not liked and not understood.

Buffy heard the front door open and close with a bang. “Buffy?”

“We’re in the kitchen, Dawn,” she called, wondering how her sister was going to take the news. She hoped that this could be gotten through with a minimum of drama. She was still tired, and really not in the mood.

“Hey, Buffy, Xander.” Dawn looked from one to the other and paused. “Is everything okay?”

Buffy took a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for Dawn to do the same. “Why don’t you sit down.”

Dawn hesitated, looking slightly scared. “Is the world ending again?” she asked. “Because I really don’t think I’m ready for another apocalypse.”

“It’s not an apocalypse, Dawnie. It’s—” Buffy stopped, deciding the blunt approach would probably be best in this case. “Spike’s back.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “He’s what? He actually came back?”

“To be precise,” Xander said, a bit of snark in his tone, “he’s upstairs in your sister’s bed.”

Buffy gave him a tired look. “Xander, that’s enough. Dawn, Spike’s back. He’s also human, he has a soul, and he’s sick. If you don’t want to see him, that’s fine, and if you do, that’s fine too. Just—don’t give him too hard of a time right now. He’s in really bad shape.”

Her sister frowned, concern warring with anger. “Is he going to be okay?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. If his fever doesn’t start coming down, we’ll probably have to take him to the hospital, though.”

“Oh.” Dawn looked down at the floor. “Are you okay?”

Buffy smiled. Dawn was often a lot more perceptive than they expected. She would know at least a little of what this meant for Buffy. “I will be. I’m just tired this morning.”

“Can I see him?”

Buffy nodded. “Just don’t wake him up. He needs the rest.”

Dawn gave her sister a hug, and looked over at Xander, who had an uncomfortable expression on his face. They had gotten a lot closer over the last few months, and Dawn didn’t want to cause him any pain. And yet, Spike was important to her too. Buffy had impressed upon her that what had happened between the two of them wasn’t good, but that the fault had been on both sides. Buffy had also told her that she was completely free to feel whatever toward Spike. “Whatever Xander says,” Buffy had said quietly during one of their long talks, “Spike wasn’t totally bad, and he would never hurt you. He did a lot of good things, and I know he’d die before he let anything happen to you. I know you’re probably angry that he left the way he did, and because of what he did to me, but if you miss him, even if you still love him, that’s fine, Dawnie. What you and he had was special.”

Dawn was a bit apprehensive. It had been over a year since she’d seen him, and a lot of her anger had faded in that time. She still remembered all the times he’d stayed with her during the summer that Buffy had been gone, the times that he had stuck by her side when Glory was trying to kill her. That year, that summer, had been a big part of their relationship, and most of the time it outweighed whatever had come later.

She opened the door slowly. He was thinner, she realized immediately, almost skeletal. Besides the weight loss, his platinum blonde hair, his trademark, was shorter and a light brown. His cheeks were flushed, and she took another step toward the bed, unsure of what to do now that she’d seen him. “Hey, Bit.”

Dawn jumped. She hadn’t realized he was awake, and wondered how he’d known it was her with his eyes closed. “Spike.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Come to see for yourself if the rumors were true, hey Niblet?”

“You left.” She said this with as much anger as she could muster.

“I know. I’m sorry.” There were lines in his face that hadn’t been there before, and they deepened as he watched her. “Know you probably won’t forgive me,” he said softly.

Perversely, Dawn felt some of her anger drain away. “Did Buffy tell you? After you left, Warren killed Tara, and Willow went crazy and tried to end the world, and she had to go to England with Giles, and you weren’t here.”

“I know I wasn’t, Bit.”

“You didn’t even say anything. You just left without a good-bye.” She was right next to the bed, staring down at him, tears forming in her eyes. “I missed you.” This last came out as more of an accusation than anything else.

“I missed you too, Dawn.” He might have gone on, but she was in his arms in a second, head buried in his chest. Spike just held her and stroked her hair. His love for her burned brightly. Unlike his feelings for Buffy, there was nothing complicated about this. It was simply love in its purest form. After a few moments, he pushed her gently away. “Careful, luv. Don’t want you to catch whatever it is I’ve got.”

She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “It’s okay. I don’t get sick very often. You know you look like hell.”

He chuckled weakly. “I’m not surprised.” Spike’s eyes were gentle as he reached up to brush her hair away from her face. “Seems like everything went to hell in a handbasket as soon as I left. You want to talk about it?”

It had always been simple with Spike. She was who she was, and he listened without comment, without judgment. She filled him in on what had happened right after he’d left, told him that Willow was back in town and living on campus, that Xander was starting to date again and come out of the funk he’d been in for so long, that something seemed to be going on between Anya and Giles, that Buffy was working retail at the mall and liked it a lot better than the Doublemeat. Plus, she got clothes at a discount, which was a huge help. Buffy was also taking a few classes at UC Sunnydale. She’d made the honor roll at school last year, which pleased both Buffy and Social Services to no end. And their dad was finally starting to pay some child support, which meant things were a little more comfortable around the house.

She had paused in her recitation when he reached out to touch her hand. “Gotta stop you there, Bit,” he said, eyes slightly glazed. “Can’t keep my eyes open. Good to see my girl again, though.”

Dawn watched as he dropped off, and turned to find Buffy standing in the doorway. “How is he?” her sister asked.

“I think he’s okay. He doesn’t look so great.” Dawn looked at him, biting her lip.

“I know, sweetie. But you know Spike. You just can’t keep him down.” Buffy smiled at her younger sister. “Why don’t you go take a shower if you want. I’m just going to sit with him for a while.”

~~~~~

It was mid-afternoon when he started to thrash around, in the grip of some nightmare. Buffy

woke, startled from the nap she’d been taking in the chair beside the bed. “Spike,” she called, touching his shoulder. Even through his t-shirt, she could feel the heat radiating off his body, and she knew that his fever had risen considerably. He didn’t come out of it, and she shook him a little harder. “Spike, come on. You need to wake up.”

He wasn’t coming to, and Buffy was beginning to get scared. “Spike. It’s me—Buffy. It’s just a nightmare.” His eyes finally opened, but they were glazed over and unfocused. “Spike.”

“Buffy? Is it really you?” There was fear in his voice, in his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” she said, somewhat drily. “My friends brought me back. I think you were around for that episode.”

He didn’t smile. “I thought you’d died again. I couldn’t stop it.”

“Hey, I’m here, right? And I’m doing a hell of a lot better than you are at the moment.” She placed a hand against his forehead. “Dawn?” she called. When her sister stuck her head into the room, she spoke quickly. “Tell Xander I’m going to need him to drive us to the hospital. I think he’s getting worse.”

~~~~~

“Miss Summers?” Dr. Emrys called as he came out of the examining room. Buffy had been lucky enough to find him standing right by the admissions desk when they’d walked in, luckier still that he’d remembered her and her sister and was ready to help. He’d been one of the many doctors that had looked after her mom while she was sick, and was one of the nicest. An older man, perhaps in his sixties, he’d immediately agreed to see Spike, even without insurance, telling her that he had a limited private practice and that he could probably see her friend under that capacity. The doctor had been extremely efficient, getting Spike into a room and hooking him up to an IV in a matter of minutes.

Now, he stood before her with a slightly worried expression on his face that made Buffy’s stomach clench. “Is he going to be alright?” she asked.

He smiled reassuringly. “Your friend is a very sick young man, but I have every reason to think he’ll recover. I take it you haven’t seen him in a while.”

Buffy shook her head. “He, um, left about a year ago. We hadn’t seen him until last night.”

Emrys nodded. “I see. Do you happen to know if he was out of the country for any portion of that time?”

Buffy shook her head, but Xander broke in with, “He said he’d been in Africa.”

The older man nodded, seemingly satisfied with the information. “Well, that would certainly explain it. I’m afraid he’s contracted a rather nasty case of malaria. While there are several different types, I think it’s safe to assume the kind he has isn’t fatal.”

“How do you know?” Dawn asked. Buffy winced at the fear in her sister’s voice. Neither one of them cared for doctors or hospitals much, each associating it with their mother’s death. It was no wonder that Dawn didn’t trust the doctor’s word.

He hesitated, then admitted, “If he had the type that is potentially fatal, he would probably be dead by now. I’d like to do a blood test that should take a couple hours. At that point, we’ll know a little more. For the time being, I’d like to keep him on the IV, and I’ve given him some fairly potent medication to reduce his fever. Once the tests are done, we’ll know what other treatments to administer, and if there’s any chance of a relapse in the future. After that, I can probably release him into your care.”

“Thanks, Dr. Emrys. I really appreciate this.” Buffy watched as he gave her another sympathetic smile, and left. She turned to her sister and Xander. “It’s almost dinner time. Why don’t you guys get something to eat?”

“What about you, Buf?” Xander asked. “You can’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

She shook her head. “If you could bring me back a sandwich or something, that would be great, but I’d like to stay here.”

Xander looked like he was about to argue, but Dawn poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “I’ll make sure we get something decent. Do you want us to call Willow?”

Buffy rubbed her hand over tired eyes. “Oh, crap. I completely forgot we were supposed to hang out tonight. Yeah, call her for me. Tell her if she wants, I can meet her at the house once we get done here.”

She watched them leave, and knew that Xander was not at all thrilled about her concern for Spike. It was all fine and dandy to help him out, since he was now both helpless and human, but the hatred that ran between the two of them went deep. She had a feeling that even human-Spike wouldn’t quite live up to his expectations of what would be a suitable guy for her. Which wasn’t even an issue, since they weren’t together. She was helping him because that’s what she did. She helped people. Emphasis on the people. Sighing, Buffy went into Spike’s room.

He lay, still and quiet on the hospital bed, a thin tube dripping clear liquid into his arm. For the dehydration, the doctor had informed her. “Hey,” she said, as his eyes opened.

“You look tired,” he observed, clear-eyed and lucid.

“Good to know you aren’t totally out of it,” she said, ignoring his comment. “And yeah, I’m tired. Haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few nights.”

Spike winced. “Sorry. My fault, I guess.”

She shook her head, coming over to sit next to him on the bed. “Not really. I wasn’t sleeping all that well before you came back.” She looked down at the white sheet that lay between them, and worried it with her fingers. “Have I told you yet that I’m glad you’re back?”

“Think you said something about missing me,” he replied.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Buffy said, smiling. “But you make things more interesting.”

He lifted one scarred eyebrow, and suddenly he was Spike again, and not some stranger in Spike’s body. “Hardly think interestin’ was the word for that last year, Slayer. Didn’t make things easier on you, did I? Should have. Sorry ‘bout that.”

She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. “I didn’t make things easier on you, either, so you could call us even.”

“Is that what we are? Even?” He finally met her eyes, searching for a truth he was afraid to misread.

Buffy struggled to find the words. “I forgave you a while ago, Spike. Forgive me?”

“’Course.”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling a weight lift off of her chest. She’d treated him badly, and the remembrance of that had sat heavily on her heart. She hadn’t thought she was that kind of person, but had proven herself wrong. She supposed, in a way, she and Spike had been in the same boat. She’d realized she needed to make some serious changes when she found out what she was capable of. Apparently, Spike had felt the same way. It was something she would have liked to tell him, but she couldn’t find the words. “You want to tell me what happened? After you left, I mean?”

He hesitated. “I realized I wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for what I wanted for myself. I was stuck between two worlds, so I decided to pick one once and for all. Heard about this demon in Africa, more of a legend really, but I went looking for him. Found him, passed his tests, and made my wish. I was in pretty bad shape after, and it didn’t help that I didn’t have any money or identification. Took about eight months to get back to the States, and that’s when I started to feel sick. Must have been the malaria. Barely made it back here, really. Didn’t much care whether I lived or died when you found me.”

She wanted to touch him again, to assure herself that it was real, but she restrained herself. It was too soon to even be thinking things like that. There was so much that lay between them, it would take months to sort out, maybe years. Maybe never. “Well, I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Do you go there that often?” he asked softly.

“About once a week. At least, over the last few months. I wanted to be sure it was safe after Clem told me some demons had taken it over. It was pretty much trashed after that though.” Buffy frowned, wishing that she had somehow safeguarded it better, so that he would have had something to come back to.

“It’s all right. There wasn’t much left there anyway. Not after the lower level got blown up.” Spike shrugged philosophically. He was feeling better, more awake, though he was fairly lightheaded.

“I’m sorry about that, Spike.”

He laughed, somewhat sourly. “Don’t worry about it. Not such a big deal.”

Silence fell. And it was a not-so-comfortable silence. Buffy remembered when they could sit on her porch, saying nothing for hours. Now the silence had a lot more to do with not knowing what to say. After a while, he dropped off to sleep, and Buffy went out to the waiting room again.

“Hey, Buf,” Xander called as they came to greet her. “We bring food, and—” he stepped to one side to reveal Willow.

“Willow! Hey, I’m sorry about the whole hanging thing.”

The witch gave her friend a hug. “Don’t worry about it. I think the return of Spike qualifies as a major distraction.” She looked at Buffy, hard. “Are you okay?”

“With Spike being back? About as okay as I can be, I think.” Buffy gave a reasonable approximation of a smile. “At least I won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Willow smiled encouragingly. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

It wasn’t long after they’d finished eating that Dr. Emrys came out to talk to Buffy. “William should be fine,” he said, reassuring her when she asked after the results of the blood test. “However, the type of malaria he contracted can relapse, so if he should come down with flu-like symptoms in the future, you’ll need to get him to the hospital or to your doctor as soon as possible.” He handed her a container of pills. “The directions are on the bottle. Make sure he takes all of them according to the instructions. He’ll still be a little dehydrated, so make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and rests, but he should be feeling better in a few days.”

“Thanks, doctor.”

He stopped her as she started to turn away and handed her his card. “Some forms of malaria are more resistant to antibiotics. If he’s not better in a few days, give me a call on my cell phone. I still make house calls if necessary.”

She stared at him, speechless. “Dr. Emrys, thanks, but—I’m not sure how we’re going to pay for a hospital visit, let alone a house call.”

The doctor smiled at her, and patted her kindly on the shoulder. “I have a son about his age, and I’d hate to think that he wouldn’t get medical attention just because he couldn’t afford the bill. I’ll take care of things on this end, and if you need my help again, we’ll work something out. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

Buffy continued to stare after his retreating figure, then looked at the bottle of pills and the card in her hand. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Some friend.”

Buffy looked up from the salad she was making to see Spike wander into the kitchen. “You look like you’re feeling better,” she said, greeting him with a smile.

“S’pose I am. Was gettin’ a bit sick of that bed.” He sat down at the table carefully, and Buffy could see that he was still weak. Just the walk down the stairs had tired him out, but the doctor had told her to expect that. He’d said it could be a couple of weeks or more before he regained even some of his strength, and it would be longer than that before they could reverse the effects of the malnutrition.

He’d been sleeping pretty much constantly over the last two days, waking only long enough to eat and drink, but he’d needed it. And the fever had finally broken yesterday, so he wasn’t as flushed as he had been. “It’s probably not the best thing for you, but do you want a cup of coffee?” she asked.

“Sure. Sounds good.” He took the mug she set in front of him gratefully, and then looked over at her, puzzled, as she sat down in front of him.

“I think we need to talk,” she said seriously.

His face grew very still, and he nodded warily. “What about?”

“We need to talk about your options. Xander and I were talking, and he has a spare bedroom in his apartment, so you could move in with him if you want. Or, you could stay here. It’s up to you.” She waited for his answer, not sure what he would say.

He looked down at the table, tracing the grain with his finger. “I can leave whenever you want me to, Slayer.”

Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Spike, I don’t want you to leave. I’m just talking about options here.”

“So you just asked Xander if he would mind if the guy he hates moves in with him because you wanted to give me an option?” His tone was bitter, and Buffy wasn’t sure she blamed him. She’d been all too ready to get rid of him as fast as she could in the past.

“Spike,” she began, reaching across the table to touch his hand. He pulled it out of her reach, and she bit her lip. “I told you. I don’t want you to leave, but I do want you to do what’s best for you. I wasn’t sure if staying here was the best thing, if you even wanted to be around me.”

He looked up at her, gazing into her eyes for a long time. “What do you want, Slayer?”

“This isn’t about what I want, Spike,” she said quietly.

“Humor me.”

“Fine,” she replied, her tone holding a tinge of anger. “What I want is to go back to before. We were friends, at least for a while, after I came back. And before that, we could talk. That’s what I want.”

“D’you seriously think we could be friends?” he asked, his tone incredulous and hopeful at the same time.

“Weren’t we, once?”

Spike hesitated, and then said quietly, “I still love you, Buffy. Whatever happened between the two of us, whatever you did to me, or me to you, I still love you. Always will, y’know.”

“I know.” Buffy looked off into the distance. “I’m not saying that I love you, Spike, or even that I will, but I feel something for you. Frankly, I think you and Xander would probably end up killing each other if you took that option. And I really don’t want you dead.”

He chuckled, the closest thing she’d heard to a laugh from him since his return. “Well, it’s not everyone gets a second chance, so if it makes you feel any better, I don’t really want to be dead m’self.” He looked thoughtful. “Should probably let you have your room back, though. Been in there long enough.”

“No, no, and a whole world of no,” Buffy said, rising and returning to her salad. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to redo my old room anyway. This is the perfect opportunity.”

“I don’t want to take your bedroom, Slayer. I don’t need the big one. Can sleep in the other room, or even on the couch just as easily.” He actually looked a bit distressed that he was putting her out, and she shook her head.

“Hello? Master bedroom comes with master bathroom. I can’t imagine the damage it would do to Dawn if she accidentally walked in on you in the shower some day. Chances of that happening are much reduced if you stay put.” She smiled at him. “Really, I don’t mind at all.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “If you think it’s best, then.”

“I really do,” she said firmly. “By the way, Xander and Willow are coming over for dinner later. They pitched in and got me a grill for Christmas. You wouldn’t believe the difference it makes in my menu. For some reason, I can grill a lot better than I cook. Anyway, we’re having burgers.”

She looked back at him and saw he was busy fiddling with his coffee cup. “I want you to eat with us, Spike.”

He looked up and then away. “If you want me to.”

She tried to make her voice as firm as possible. “If you’re going to live here, you’re going to be considered part of the family.”

He looked up and met her eyes, something akin to happiness kindling in their depths. “I’d probably better get cleaned up, then.”

“You might want to take a nap, too,” she called after his retreating back. She stared at the tomato she’d placed on the cutting board thoughtfully. ‘Is this really going to work?’ she wondered. Trying to put him back together at the same time she was trying to figure her own feelings out was foolish. She shook off her doubts. What mattered at this point was Spike. Once he was back on his feet, and a little more steady, she could determine whether her feelings for him stemmed from the same maternal instict that came out around Dawn and her friends, or if they went deeper than that.

~~~~~

Spike hadn’t planned on taking a nap. He’d showered, and gone out to look over the clothes Buffy had managed to salvage from the crypt. She’d apparently gotten him a few new t-shirts over the past couple days as well, which varied his choices slightly. While he debated, he happened to glance at the bed he’d just made, and realized how tired he was, just from the walk downstairs and that conversation with Buffy. ‘Just for a moment,’ he thought, stretching out on the bed.

The next thing he knew was a knock on the door, and Buffy sticking her head through. “Spike? Xander and Willow should be here in about half an hour, just to let you know. Do you want to eat?”

He pushed himself up from the bed, realizing belatedly that he was wearing nothing but a towel, and that it was slipping alarmingly. “Yeah. I’ll be down in a minute, Slayer.” He waited until she shut the door, and then quickly dressed in his usual black jeans and black tee. Lucky for him, he had more than one pair and he’d left a lot of stuff behind. Luckier still he could get them to fit, as much weight as he’d lost. He’d have to see about putting a few pounds back on so he didn’t look so much like those famine victims he’d seen while in Africa.

He checked himself in the mirror, still slightly amazed at his own reflection, and not liking it very much. He had a hard enough time looking other people in the eyes, let alone himself. As odd as it was, he was glad Buffy had clipped his hair as short as she had. Shorter than it had ever been, that was for sure, but it was easier to take care of, and it was nothing like he’d ever had before, which seemed fitting. He was nothing like he’d ever been before.

He came down the stairs just as Xander and Willow walked in the front door. “Hey, Spike,” Willow greeted him. “You’re looking a lot better than you were when I saw you last time.”

“Thanks, Red. Feelin’ better.” He squinted at her slightly. “You sat with me for a while.”

“Yeah, when Buffy went on patrol,” she replied, pleased that he’d remembered. “You were still a little out of it.”

“Been out of it for months, Red,” he replied, a little of his old humor seeping back into his voice. “Only recently been feeling human.”

There was a long pause as they all considered what he’d said, and the tips of Spike’s ears turned red. “I meant—you know. Bloody hell.”

Xander took pity on him. “Come on, Spike,” he said, taking the other man by the arm. “I brought the beer.”

The dinner went a lot better than Spike had anticipated. Mostly, he just sat back and let the talk wash over him. It felt good though, better than hanging out with the gang had in the past. Before, he’d always felt as though he were on the outside, and there was even a little of that now, he supposed, but every so often Buffy or Willow or Dawn would look over at him. Or one of them would ask him a question, and it was obvious that they weren’t trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

After a while, the talk turned to Tara, reminiscing. It was natural, he knew, to remember the dead, to talk about them so their memory didn’t die. You could tell where people were in the healing process by listening to them talk about their loved ones a lot of times. When they could laugh over some remembered joke or anecdote, that was when you knew the wound was closing up, that they would be all right.

He listened as they talked about some joke Tara had told about Glory. No one had understood what she was talking about at the time, though if you got the reference, it was quite witty, and just what he would have expected from the shy Wiccan. “Good thing you were around, Spike,” Willow commented, causing him to look up sharply.

“What’s that, Red?” he asked.

“That was about the time Tara’s family showed up, you know. Said she was part demon and she had to come back with them?” Willow’s eyes were far away as she remembered.

Spike snorted indelicately. “Bollocks. Just a stupid story.”

Willow shook her head. “Maybe, but Tara didn’t think so, and I’m not sure the rest of us didn’t believe her jerk of a dad for at least a minute. She told me later she probably would have gone back with them if you hadn’t punched her in the nose.”

Spike brightened noticeably. “Really? Always felt a bit bad about that. Didn’t really want to hurt her.”

Buffy watched as he and Willow talked, and she knew what her friend was doing. When Willow had come back from England, they had done their best to forgive her, to let her know that she was still welcome, but it had been hard. What had done the most to alleviate her depression was to remind her what she had done right. Focus on the positive, as Giles had suggested when he said Willow was coming home. She had told the witch that Spike had seemed broken to her, and her friend had nodded, saying she understood completely. She was grateful that Willow, at least, was willing to give him a chance.

Xander was doing his best to be civil though, and Buffy had to give him credit. His reaction to Spike this time around was a lot more mature than it had been in the past. And Spike seemed to be doing his best not to aggravate him in turn. Buffy wondered if he was just trying to keep a low profile, or if it was something deeper than that. It was really hard to tell.

Once they’d finished dinner, they all pitched in to help clean up, and Buffy noticed that Spike slipped outside onto the back porch as soon as he could. She waited until the kitchen was clean, and then let the rest of her friends head off to the living room to argue over what movie to watch first. Buffy went out the back door and sat down next to him on the steps. “Hey,” she greeted him. “You left the party.”

“’m not used to that many people in a room anymore, I guess. Spent the better part of the last year on my own, not talkin’ to much of anybody.” He looked over at her and gave her a bit of a smile.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, looking up at the sky.

“You should see the sky in Africa,” he murmured. “They’re all different stars, different constellations, and so clear you think you could reach up and touch them.”

They sat in silence for a minute, until Buffy said, “I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“Sitting out here with you, while you smoked or whatever. Just talking.” She glanced over at him, thinking that he no longer reminded her so much of the night. He wasn’t as pale, though he was fair skinned, and his hair was darker. He was a creature of the day, now, whatever he had been. He belonged to the sunlight as much as she did. “Do you remember the first night we sat out here? It was right after my mom got diagnosed, and you showed up with a shotgun. And then you sat down and listened. It was the best thing anyone could have done for me.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was planning on killing you, and you looked up at me and you’d been crying. Loved you then, I did.”

Buffy hesitated, and then said quietly, “What I said to you, earlier that night, about being beneath me? Was that why you wanted to kill me?” She remembered that scene so clearly in the alley. He, waiting for her acknowledgement, for something from her. She, disgusted with what he’d done, and by how he’d told it, as though it were some great thing. Shoving him away, tossing the money at him as she realized how heavy the air had become with sexual tension. Knowing now how it must have cut to hear her say it, whether he had deserved it or not. She had proved her assertion false long ago.

“Aside from the fact that you were the Slayer and I was the slayer of Slayers?” he asked, his head cocked slightly to one side. “Yeah. Those are actually the exact words the woman I loved said to me right before I got bit. Go figure.”

Buffy reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

“I was beneath you, Slayer,” he replied, looking at her gravely, with no hint of his usual playfulness. The old Spike would have taken that and made it into some kind of sexual innuendo. This version simply accepted that statement at its face value.

“No,” she replied simply. “I don’t think you were.” She looked off into the distance, and spoke softly. “After Angel came back from hell or wherever, he was pretty much insane. I went to Giles and gave him a hypothetical of if someone came back from a demon dimension, what would he be like? He said there were two kinds of monsters, the kind that couldn’t be redeemed, that would always be evil. And then there was the second kind, who both could be redeemed and who wanted to be redeemed.” She looked over at Spike and waited until he met her eyes. “I think you fell into the second category. I just wish I’d seen it sooner.”

A pained look passed over his face, and he reached up to gently cup her cheek in his hand. “I was trying to hide that bit of myself, Buffy. Would have been insulted if you’d thought I was anything but evil. We all make our own choices.”

“Maybe, but I wish I’d made better ones.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “The others should have agreed on a movie by now. You want to watch one with us?”

Spike hesitated, then nodded. “Think I’d like that, Slayer.”

“Now I don’t want to beg you baby,/For something maybe you could never give./I’m not looking for the rest of your life,/I just want another chance to live.” ~Patti Griffin

They were halfway through the movie, some comedy about space aliens that Xander had picked up, when the phone rang. Buffy rose to answer it, and Xander called after her, “Do you want us to stop the movie, Buf?”

“Just a second,” she replied, picking up the handset. “Hello? Oh, hi, Giles.”

Xander held up the remote and pointed to the TV, raising his eyebrows in question. Buffy shook her head and waved them on, taking the phone into the kitchen. “Sorry, Giles. I just needed to get to a different room.”

“Is this a bad time, Buffy? I can make it quick.” She heard the concern in his tone, and wished she could tell him once and for all that he didn’t have to worry about her. But that was what he did. He was as locked into his role as her Watcher as she was into her role as the Slayer.

“No, we were all just watching a movie. I’ve seen it before, anyway, so no biggie.” She tried to make her tone as light as possible. “Isn’t it a little early in the morning, even for you?”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” he replied. “I had an early meeting, however, and thought I might be able to catch you.”

“So what’s up?” she asked cautiously. She really wanted to know why he was calling before she dumped any news on him.

“Well, actually, I’m coming back for a visit,” he replied. There was a long pause. “Buffy? Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? Except for the fact that I’m trying very hard not to pass out from shock. There isn’t some apocalypse that I should know about, right?”

He chuckled. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve been back for a real visit, but I plan on staying a couple weeks. I know you have that extra bedroom since Willow moved out, and I hate to invite myself, but I thought it would be a good chance for us to get reacquainted.”

Buffy closed her eyes. “Yeah, about that room. There’s actually someone staying there right now.”

The surprise in Giles’ voice was evident. “Who? Did Willow move back in then?”

“It’s Spike,” she said bluntly. “He came back a few days ago.”

“And he’s staying at your house, Buffy?” Giles asked incredulously. “After everything you told me, do you really think that’s wise?”

She sighed. She could hear something like disappointment in Giles’ tone, along with the requisite worry. “It’s different, Giles. He’s—he’s human. He has a soul.”

The long silence told her everything she needed to know, and a small part of her wished she could see his face. She had a feeling it was one of those Kodak moments. “Giles?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I could have sworn you said Spike was human,” he said.

“He is. And he has—well, he had malaria. He’s still not in the best shape.” Buffy rubbed her eyes tiredly. “He’s changed, Giles. It’s like—it’s like something inside him is broken. I was hoping you would know something, be able to tell me something that would help.”

“So you were going to tell me about this sooner rather than later?” her Watcher asked, a bit of wry humor in his tone.

Buffy wasn’t in the mood for one of his lectures. “I’m serious. He was really sick, and I’ve just been trying to deal with all of that, plus work, plus everything else. I haven’t had a lot of breathing room until today, and I really didn’t want to deal with this.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he replied, sounding as though he really meant it. “From what I know, it took Angel over a century to get to what he was when you met him. That Spike would be feeling a bit raw over his soul and his humanity is not surprising. Rather the contrary, in fact.” He hesitated. “I’m still coming out. Besides seeing you, I have responsibilities at the Magic Box I’ve been neglecting for far too long. I can certainly get a hotel room or something, however.”

“No, we’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to Spike and Dawn and see what we can do. Xander’s a lot further along on the basement, so we might be able to set something up down there.” Buffy smiled reflectively. “I am glad you’re coming, Giles. It’s been too long.”

“Indeed it has,” he said warmly. “Let me give you the dates and the flight information now. We’ll talk again as the date’s closer. Is Anya there?” he asked, nonchalantly. “I thought I might ask her something.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. About the only person who was oblivious to Giles and Anya’s attraction to each other was Xander, but then, he was busy with his own life at this point. He and the ex-vengeance demon were friendly, but they weren’t friends. “No, but I think she said something about necessary inventory when I asked her to come over this evening,” she replied. “You might be able to catch her at the Magic Box if it’s urgent.”

“No, it’s not terribly urgent,” he replied. He rattled off the flight and arrival information for her, and Buffy wrote it on the wall calendar.

“All right,” she said cheerfully. “I guess we’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“Are you all right, Buffy?” he asked gently. He knew her so well, she thought, even thousands of miles removed.

“I think I will be,” she responded. “I thought I was done with this, you know. Everything I was feeling. I thought I’d just deal and move on. It’s never that easy, is it?”

“I wish I could tell you that it was, Buffy,” Giles said quietly. “I’ll do what I can for you, but this is something you’ll have to figure out for yourself, I’m afraid. There’s not even much I can do in the way of advice anymore.”

“I know. I’ll see you in a couple weeks, Giles.” She hung up the phone and leaned her head against the doorjamb.

“Is everything alright, Slayer?”

She turned to see Spike looking at her with that same look in his eyes he’d had that night in the Bronze after Giles had left. As though he’d wanted nothing more than to take every burden she bore and shoulder them for her. “Giles is coming for a visit in a couple weeks,” she replied, not answering the question. “He was thinking he was going to stay here.”

Spike looked puzzled. “He’ll stay in my room, then,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Spike, he didn’t know you were here. He thought the room was unoccupied. Or at least, he thought a room was unoccupied,” Buffy explained patiently.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll sleep on the couch while he’s here.” He regarded her with a sort of wistfulness that Buffy couldn’t quite interpret.

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Spike. I’ll pass it along, let him know he doesn’t have to stay in a hotel or anything.”

“That’s alright then,” he said. He looked at her again for a long moment, hands shoved deep into his pockets, as though he were afraid to touch anything. “Think I’ll be heading up to bed now, Slayer. I’m a bit knackered.”

“Spike—” she called after him. He turned to look at her, waiting patiently. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He glanced down at the floor. “G’night.” Buffy watched him go, and wondered what she was going to do next.

~~~~~

Spike lay in the dark, wide awake. He’d had yet another nightmare. It seemed as though he would never be able to sleep soundly again. Some nights he was able to go back to sleep after he woke, but tonight wasn’t one of those. To get his mind off the grisly images, he thought of Buffy. She had been rather cool towards him the last week or so. It seemed to him as though now that he was getting better, her concern had changed into distance. He had wondered if having a soul, being human again, would change things between the two of them, but all it had changed was the fact that she felt responsible for him now.

It was killing him to be so close to her and not to touch her, not to take her in his arms, but he considered it just penance for what he’d done. And he wasn’t going be the one to make the first move. He couldn’t be sure of what he saw, what he knew anymore. He’d been so certain that she’d loved him, and had ended up destroying any hope he’d ever had. No, this time she would have to be the one to call the shots, and if she wanted him to stay for a while, he’d stay. And if she wanted him to go, he would do that too. His humanity hadn’t changed the way he felt for Buffy, but it had given him a bit more insight into why she’d been so reluctant to be with him in the first place, and he thought he might have a little more patience at least. He loved her; that wasn’t going to change. He would wait for her until the end of the world.

The sound of the bedroom door opening broke the silence, and Spike lay still and quiet. She stood in the doorway, her figure outlined by the dim moonlight streaming through the window. When she didn’t move, he called to her. “Slayer? Is something wrong?”

She stepped into the room, closer to him. “Spike? I thought you were asleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Is there something you need?” he asked.

“I had a bad dream,” she confessed, sounding like a little girl. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

He hesitated, knowing that he might be breaking some invisible boundary, but he went ahead anyway. “Come ‘ere,” he said, patting the bed beside him. When she didn’t move, he hastened to clarify. “I’m not talking about shagging, Slayer, and I’m not starkers. With you and Dawn popping your heads in at all hours, no chance of doing that. Just thought you might not want to be alone.”

She came to him then, climbing under the comforter he held up for her, moving her body so that it was tucked in close to his. He wrapped an arm around her middle, careful not to touch anything he shouldn’t. She fit so perfectly with him. There had been few opportunities, if any, to spoon like this when they’d been sleeping with each other. She hadn’t wanted it, and he hadn’t pressed the issue, taking what he could get. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he would still take what he could get. He was lost in her still.

“Thanks, Spike,” she said quietly, into the darkness. “I needed to feel safe.”

“You feel safe with me?” he asked, surprised.

She paused, then admitted, “Yeah. I do.”

“Because of the soul.”

“No, because of who you are,” she said softly. “Let’s face it, Spike. I was a bitch, and I drove you crazy. No, that doesn’t make it right, and it doesn’t make it my fault, but I know you didn’t want what happened any more than I did.”

“I’m sorry.” The weight of sorrow on his words made her chest ache.

“I know. It’s done. It’s past. I forgive you.”

Absolution should have felt like more than this, he thought. It should have felt good, and to a certain extent it did, but he realized that it would take a lot longer for him to forgive himself. And that it might never happen. Her next question surprised him. “Do you trust me?”

It would have been easier to lie. On the other hand, it was easier to tell her the truth when he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I’d trust you with my life, Slayer. But I don’t trust this. I keep thinkin’ I’m going to wake up one of these days and this will all just disappear.”

“Oh. I guess I understand,” she said almost sadly. “I don’t know what I can give you, Spike. I don’t even know what I’m capable of giving you.”

His arm tightened around her. “I know. I’m not going anywhere, Slayer, unless you want me to.”

Her hand found his in the dark, and she laced her fingers with his where they rested on her abdomen. “I think they should change that line. ‘The only things that are sure in this life are death, taxes, and Spike.’ Except that doesn’t really work, either, does it? I mean, who says death is a sure thing?”

“I’d stay with you till the end of the world, but I need something from you too,” he said softly. “Just throw me a crumb.”

There was a long agonizing silence, and Spike thought that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to give him anything at all, that she would get up and leave. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand. “I care about you a lot. I missed you while you were gone, and I don’t want you to leave now that you’re here. I don’t know what that means, but that’s how I feel.”

“If we do this, if we try again, I can’t be your secret,” he said. “If that’s what you want to do. If you really want to start over again.”

“No secrets,” she agreed. “Are you sure you won’t be ashamed to be seen with me?”

“Never happen,” he replied, pressing his lips to her hair. “Go to sleep, Slayer. I’ll make sure the bogeyman doesn’t show his ugly face around here again.” He held her as she drifted off to sleep, his breathing slowing to match hers, their hearts beating in tune. He didn’t sleep for a long time.

~~~~~

“Hey, Spike,” Xander greeted him as he came through the front door. “You coming with us tonight?”

Spike glanced up from the book he was reading, one he’d found on Joyce’s shelves. “That would depend on where you’re going, Harris.”

Xander looked confused. “I thought Buffy would have invited you. We’re going to the Bronze for some pre-Giles fun. Not that Giles isn’t a barrel of laughs, but he isn’t the kind of guy you take dancing, if you catch my drift.”

Spike’s face didn’t change, though something in his eyes did. “No, that’s all right. Still not quite feeling up to dancing the night away.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Xander replied, feeling a slight sense of unease. He still didn’t like Spike, but there were times when it was nice to have another guy around, especially when you were surrounded by women.

Buffy came down the stairs and saw Xander standing by the door and Spike lounging on the couch. “Hey, Xander,” she said cheerfully. “Spike? Aren’t you coming?”

He glanced up sharply. “Didn’t know I was invited,” he said, a touch of ice in his tone. Xander, who wasn’t completely ignorant when it came to the guy-girl thing, decided to beat a stratigic retreat.

“I’ll be out in the car. Waiting. For whoever decides to come.” He backed out the door quickly. He’d seen their fights in the past, and they had a tendency to be rather spectacular.

Buffy ignored the door as it opened and then closed. “Of course you were invited. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Maybe because you’ve never been that interested in having me tag along before? Or maybe it was because I didn’t know you lot were going out till Harris asked me if I was coming. Take your pick.” His eyes were pure Spike, and Buffy wondered what had happened to the guy who’d been living in her house the last couple weeks. At the moment, it was the old Spike who was standing in her living room.

She was about to retort with a scathing comment, when she realized that he really wouldn’t know that it was a regular thing for them to go out on Tuesday nights that summer, since she didn’t have to work the next day and Willow didn’t have any morning classes. They’d dispensed with the ritual the previous week, and moved the gathering to her house for rather obvious reasons. Buffy closed her eyes, both to rein in her temper and to try to figure out how to try and defuse the situation. “You know, Spike, you really need to stop taking things so personally. Did it ever occur to you that I just forgot to tell you because it’s something we do every week?”

The anger in his eyes faded slightly, but he showed no indication of backing down. “Considering our track record, I was figuring on the whole neglecting to inform.”

“We’re not doing that anymore. Remember? We agreed.” Buffy met his eyes, holding them with her gaze. “Why don’t we start over. Would you like to come to the Bronze with us tonight, Spike?”

He hesitated, and for a minute Buffy was certain he was about to refuse. “Yeah, guess I will.”

“Good,” she said. “Xander’s meeting his date there, Willow’s bringing her date, and Dawn is going to be with friends. I’m relying on you to save me from feeling like the fifth wheel.”

Spike smiled a little, and Buffy knew that it was going to be okay. “Always did want to be your white knight, luv.”

~~~~~

Spike listened absently as Kelly talked about her day to an attentive Xander. Buffy had gone off

to get something to eat, Willow and her friend were out on the dance floor having a grand time, and Dawn was sitting at the edge of a circle of teenagers gathered in a corner. Even though the ex-vampire had his eye out for Buffy’s return, he was also keeping a careful eye on his Bit, who didn’t look as though she were having as much fun as she should be. Spike knew all too well what it meant to be on the fringes, and it looked like that’s where Dawn was getting shunted off to. He watched, and did nothing, knowing that it was simply one of those things.

His eyes found Buffy as she moved through the crowd gracefully, carrying a platter of buffalo wings. “You remembered,” he said, grinning as she set them down on the table.

She snorted. “Of course I remembered. You probably missed the wings more than you missed me.”

“My heart has always been yours,” he said grandly. “But I’ll admit the spicy wings were a close second.” Spike flashed her a smirk. “I was feelin’ a mite peckish.”

Buffy sat down next to him as he reached for one of the wings. “You’ve been hungry for the last two weeks straight, Spike. What’s new?” She watched as Xander pulled his date out onto the floor, and her eyes scanned the room. As was her habit, she checked the exits, looked the room over for any members of the undead who hadn’t figured out that this wasn’t their personal lunch box, and checked her friends’ locations.

“How’s the Niblet doin’?” Spike asked quietly, licking his fingers.

Buffy looked at him in surprise. “She’s doing great, Spike. She’s actually got some normal friends, she did great in school, she’s making some money this summer working for Anya and babysitting. You know all that.” Concern edged into her voice. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothin’, Slayer. S’pose I’m just jumping at shadows,” he replied.

“I’ve never known you to be one to jump at shadows,” she said. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you were the guy who ran after them to pick a fight. What is it?”

He hesitated. “She’s on the fringe, Slayer. Look at her, watch the way she moves, the way the rest of them move around her. Were I still a vampire and out on the prowl, she’d be the one I’d go for. Those are the easiest to catch, the ones on the outside. Not saying she’s in danger, I’m just wonderin’ if she’s happy.”

Buffy watched her sister as he spoke, and she began to realize what he said was true. “How did I not see it?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“Not to be rude, but you’ve never been on the outside before. From things you’ve said in the past, you were popular before you became the Chosen One, and you were the leader of the Scoobies after that.” His eyes grew darker and far away. “I’ve never belonged in my life. I recognize that look she’s got in her eyes. And I hunted humans for over a century; I know what kinds to look for.”

A sadness filled Buffy’s face. “I wish I could do something for her.”

“Can’t, though,” he replied. “This is something the Bit will have to struggle through on her own.”

“I know. I think it’s a mom thing, but I just want to protect her from all that, you know?” She smiled a little. “I remember when mom first found out I was the Slayer. She totally flipped, wanted me to stop. Asked me if there wasn’t something I could do so I didn’t have to do it anymore. I was so pissed at her for not understanding, but I think I get it a little now, why she lost it like that.”

“Things like that you don’t understand till you’ve got little ones of your own or a little sis to look out for,” he said, smiling. “Your mum would be proud of you, Buffy.

She met his blue eyes with her own. “There are a lot of things I’ve done that I’m glad she doesn’t know about.” He didn’t reply, and his hand moved as though to touch her, but he pulled back and looked away. He was afraid to offer comfort for fear that she would toss it aside as she had so many times in the past. Buffy took his hand. “Come on, Spike. Dance with me.”

Not giving him a chance to refuse, she pulled him out on the floor. The first couple were fast, and Spike found that dancing with Buffy was a lot like fighting by her side. They moved as one, matching each other move for move. From the very first, it had been that way for them. They had been connected, no matter how hard they’d each tried to fight it.

He didn’t remember Buffy dancing with him before. She hadn’t even wanted to be seen with him in public, so it wasn’t like they were going to get together at the Bronze for anything more than a little back corner necking, or, well, other things that could be done in dark corners. But he thought he’d take the dancing in public over a cloak and dagger quickie any day. The song switched to a slower one, and Spike was ready to leave the dance floor in case she wasn’t in the mood, but she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

The band was a good one, with a female lead and three guys playing guitar, drums, and bass. He thought he remembered Buffy saying something about it being a local group that had been playing pretty regularly.

“I’ll be the first to admit I screwed things up,

All my words like arrows pricking you

Till you lay bleeding on the floor.

And I’ll be the first to admit it might be better

To call it quits and let it go.

And I’d like to say it might be better if

We just went home.

And I can’t find the words that’ll make you stay,

But I can’t find the strength to let you go.

I think missing you might kill me,

If I let you walk away.

But in my own defense, let me just tell you,

I’ve been bruised soul deep,

And I’ve got scars you can’t see.

Let me make it clear I’d love to love you,

You’re the best thing to come along.

But the last time I loved and it ended,

I just about died.

And I can’t find the words that’ll make you stay,

But I can’t find the strength to let you go.

I think missing you might kill me,

If I let you walk away.

But if you’ll just be patient with me,

Let me find the strength to build my faith,

Tell me again you’ll never leave me,

And I promise to say the words that’ll make you stay,

I promise you’ll never want to go,

‘Cause I know missing you would kill me,

If I let you walk away.”

When the song was over, Buffy rested her head on his chest for one brief, beautiful moment. “It’s getting late,” she whispered. “We’d probably better get you to bed, Spike.”

“Spike! Let’s go, we’re gonna be late,” Buffy called. She waited as he climbed the stairs from the basement. “How’s it working for you down there?” she asked.

“Fine, Slayer. I’ll be right comfy.” He looked a little uncertain. “You sure you want me along for this little mission?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “One person doesn’t make a welcome party, Spike. And, since Dawn’s babysitting, Xander had to work, Willow has class, and Anya had to work at the shop, you’re it.”

Spike shrugged. “Well, if you say so. But I’m driving.”

“Wait just a minute,” Buffy protested. “I’m perfectly capable of driving. Not only that, but it’s my car.”

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, Slayer,” he explained patiently, with a quirk of his scarred eyebrow. “I’ve never been in an accident I didn’t want to cause, and I’ve never gotten a ticket. And I’m not ridin’ in a car where you’re in the driver’s seat.”

“You don’t have a driver’s license,” Buffy pointed out triumphantly. “There’s no way you’re going to be driving.”

“Used to be evil, remember? Lack of a driver’s license isn’t gonna stop me.” Spike said with a smirk. “Besides, I told you, I’ve never gotten a ticket. We’re not gonna get pulled over.” He held out his hand for the keys, and while he had a smirk on his face, the look in his eyes told Buffy that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked, pouting slightly.

“Behind the wheel? Never.”

Which was why she let him drive. She didn’t mind going alone to pick Giles up from the airport, but she’d told the truth when she’d said that one person didn’t really make a welcome party. And she wanted him along for other reasons as well. Whatever the night before had been, it was as close to a date as she’d been on in a long time, and it awoke in her feelings she was still trying to sort out. She knew she was attracted to Spike, that had never been an issue, but she wasn’t sure what she felt. Was she in love? Had she been in love with him before he left, and simply never admitted it to herself? Was it his soul, his humanity that attracted her to him now, or was it simply him? Until she figured it out, she wanted to be around him as much as possible, to observe him, try and figure out what it was that made him tick. And a part of her that whispered in the back of her mind told her that she might be able to put him back together again, to heal some of the damage that last year had done to both of them.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Spike looked over at her, and then turned his eyes back to the road. “Go ahead.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Slayer?’” she asked. “I don’t think you’ve called me by my name more than once since you’ve been back. In fact, I don’t think you’ve called me anything else.” She watched his face carefully for any clue as to what he was thinking. Something there triggered a reaction in her. “Are you doing this to punish me somehow?”

“It’s not about punishing you. In fact, it’s not about you at all.” Spike kept his eyes on the road. “Why don’t we shelve this? Now’s not the time.”

“Now is the perfect time,” Buffy objected. “If we don’t talk about this now, we’ll never talk about it. And with my luck, by the time we get around to talking about it, you’ll have skipped town. So excuse me if I don’t want to wait.”

“I’m driving here, luv.” His jaw was tight with anger, and Buffy was confused, to put it mildly. Everything had been going just fine, and then she asked a simple question and opened a can of worms.

“I called the airport before we left. Giles’ flight was delayed by thirty minutes. We have some time.” Her tone of voice brooked no argument.

Spike flipped the blinker on, his lips set in a straight line. He pulled over to the side of the road and turned the car off. “Fine. Here we are. Let’s talk.”

Buffy turned to face him. “Well, you can start with why you feel it’s necessary to keep calling me Slayer, as if I don’t already know what I am, and then you can finish up by telling me why you’re so bad moody. Come on, Spike. I thought things were going okay.”

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Where do you get off accusing me of trying to punish you? I do something you don’t like and I’m in the wrong, while if I say anything to you about something I don’t like, you storm off. Well, it’s not that easy, Buffy.”

“Spike—” Buffy tried to interrupt, wanting to know where all this anger was coming from.

“Guess what?” he said. “It’s not about you this time. This is about me trying to protect m’self. In all the years I’ve known you, the only piece of you you let me touch was the Slayer. I saw glimpses of Buffy, but I never touched her. I thought I could be a better man for you. I tried. You hated me, before and after I gave you every reason to, and I went over in my head a thousand ways to apologize, and none of them were any good. I thought I’d come back and you’d toss me out or put a stake through me, but I knew I had to try and make it right.”

He put his head down, no longer looking at her. “I get back and I get bloody Florence Nightingale. And you’re lookin’ at me like—” he broke off abruptly. Getting himself under control, he started again. “And then you’re all cold again, and then you’re in my bed, and then you’re dancin’ with me like nothin’ ever happened. What am I supposed to think? I need some distance with you. I can’t do this again. I’m not strong enough.”

Buffy took in a deep breath. It was probably a good thing they were in a car a good distance from her house, and were expected at the airport, because if she had a choice, she’d probably walk away. He was broken, and she had been playing with him again. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she’d expected him both to be constant in his affections for her, and to let her call the shots and set the timeline.

“Spike, I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you,” she said.

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, I figured that one out a long time ago. This soul didn’t just convince me of what a monster I was, Buffy, it also made me realize what you did to me. Didn’t feel it before, not like I do now, and I know enough to know I can’t go through it again. Like I said, ‘m not strong. And I haven’t changed all that much.”

Buffy shook her head. “Spike, I think you’re one of the strongest people I know. And you’ve changed, I mean—”

“You mean the whole bein’ human, havin’ a soul thing? Buffy, the soul’s a leash, just like the chip was a leash. I’m still the same man I was.” He refused to meet her eyes.

Buffy reached over and touched the side of his face and winced when he pulled away. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair to accuse you of trying to hurt me before I heard your side. And you’re right to say I haven’t been fair to your feelings. I know how you feel about me, and I was taking that for granted while I tried to figure out how I felt about you.”

He shook his head. Now that they were actually talking about this, he wanted to stop. He’d heard this song and dance before, and he really didn’t want to hear it again. “Buffy—”

“No, I let you talk. It’s my turn.” She gave him a wry little smile. “Besides, I’m actually talking about how I feel. If the world doesn’t end in the next few minutes, I’d think you’d be happy.” He couldn’t help but smile back, and nodded for her to go on. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. You’re still the same Spike, and I’m still the same Buffy. Which definitely could be a bad thing.”

Buffy took a deep breath and continued. “But we’re not the same people we were a year ago, not really. I couldn’t love you before because I couldn’t trust you, but it wasn’t about you being evil as much as it was about me not being able to trust another vampire to love me. I loved Angel, and I had to kill him. When he had his soul. He was the only man I’ve ever loved, the only one I ever said I love you to, and I had to stick a sword in him and send him to hell. So maybe you can see my problem in even thinking I might love another vampire.”

“And now I’m human,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, you are. And I can’t even tell you what I feel about that or about you. But isn’t that why people date?” she asked. “To find out if they like each other enough to love each other? And maybe you don’t think so, but I think you might want to find out if I’m still a person you can be in love with. And I’d like to get to know you, too.”

Spike finally met her eyes, and he saw that it had scared her to death to talk to him as she had, and that she really wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t reject both her and her offer out of hand. “Are you askin’ me out? As in, public dating? No dark corners, alley ways, or demon bars kind of dating, but you tellin’ all your friends we’re goin’ out kind of dating.”

Buffy smiled. “Yeah. No alleys unless you really wanna go. And definitely no more Willie’s with the kitten poker.”

“And no shaggin’.”

Her eyes widened. “Did that just come out of your mouth? Because I could swear you just said no sex.”

“That’s what I said, and I mean it, luv. It might mean a lot of cold showers for me, but I need for this to be more than just a nice romp this time around.” Spike was smirking, but there was pain behind his smile, and Buffy knew herself to be the cause of it.

“And you want to make sure I’m not using you again,” she said softly. He didn’t have to reply, and she continued. “That’s fair. No shags until we’re both ready.”

Spike’s lips twitched. It was funny to hear his expressions come out of her mouth. “All right, then. You gonna tell Rupert that you’re datin’ an ex-vampire?”

“Of course,” she replied, slightly stung by his tone of voice. As though he thought she didn’t have the guts. She’d told him they’d slept together, hadn’t she? He looked over and raised one eyebrow, and Buffy knew exactly what he was thinking. “Today, Spike. I’m going to tell him today.”

“Right.” He flipped the blinker on and pulled back out onto the road once it was clear.

“Do you think this’ll ever get better?” she asked wistfully.

“What will get better?” he asked, his eyes once again on the road.

She shrugged. “Actually being able to get through a conversation without bringing up all those bad thoughts. Just being a normal couple.”

“We’re a couple?” He glanced over at her, and his face was a boy’s face. And for a moment, all the years washed away, and they might have been any other couple on the way to the airport to pick up a friend. And he might have been a guy who got the girl of his dreams. And she might have been a girl who realized she’d found somebody who might end up being the one. But the moment passed, and they were Buffy and Spike again. Except that now she felt as though there might be a little hope for them.

“Yeah, silly. I think that’s what we just decided.”

“Are you sure this is what you really want?” he asked quietly. “You could probably do better.”

Buffy studied his face for a long moment. “I think that’s debatable.”

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