He spotted Buffy easily enough, standing by the baggage claim. She was chatting up a thin, lanky young man, and he found that curiously appropriate. His Slayer had never missed an opportunity to flirt, though he had to admit that there was something familiar about her companion, as though he’d seen him somewhere before. She saw him before he got a dozen steps closer, and came to greet him. “Giles!”

Giles enfolded her in a warm embrace. “Buffy.” He pulled back to get a better look at her. “You’re looking particularly well.”

“Thank you. You’re not looking too bad youself,” she replied cheerfully. Giles had to admit (though only to himself) that he’d been more than a bit concerned about her after hearing of Spike’s return. Whatever it had meant to her, however, she seemed to be dealing with it well enough.

She pulled back slightly and looked over her shoulder at the young man that she’d been talking to, and Giles suddenly realized why he had looked so familiar. “Good Lord. Spike!” he exclaimed unnecessarily.

Spike seemed more embarrassed than offended by Giles’ faltering manners, and merely shuffled his feet, murmuring a somewhat shy greeting. “Rupert.”

Giles’ English manners turned themselves back on, and he went to greet the ex-vampire with no little curiosity. “Forgive me. Buffy had told me you’d changed in appearance, but I wasn’t expecting you to look quite so well after a bout with malaria.”

“Good save, Giles,” Buffy said with a smirk, watching as Spike considered the hand the Watcher held out. He seemed to briefly debate the merits of shaking hands, as though Giles might have a stake hidden up his sleeve somewhere, but finally met it with a firm grip.

“Ta, Rupert.”

There was an awkward silence as everyone looked at one another and tried to figure out what they were supposed to say next. When the baggage carousel began to turn, Spike looked at it in relief. “I’ll get your bags then, if you wouldn’t mind pointing ‘em out to me.”

“Certainly,” the older man replied, relieved. “Tell me, Buffy, how is everyone?”

“Good,” Buffy replied, more at ease than either of the men. “I was actually the only one who didn’t have to work today. Dawn was going to come, but she got called yesterday to babysit and couldn’t pass it up.”

“I’m certain that meeting me at the airport falls a distant second to earning a bit more pocket money,” Giles said with a smile.

Buffy nodded and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We’re doing a lot better on the money front, but there’s still things that she has to get herself if she wants them. Right now I think the goal is a new leather jacket.”

“A laudable achievement,” was the comment, as he kept an eye out for his bags. “There, the garment bag coming up is mine.”

Spike snagged it from the belt in one easy motion. “Any more?”

“One large black one,” Giles replied. “Then Dawn is doing well?”

Buffy hesitated slightly. “I think so. Spike thinks she may be having some adjustment issues with the crowd she’s been hanging out with this summer.”

They both looked at Spike, who looked around at the mention of his name. “Just seems to me that the Bit’s out on the fringes a little. Might pass over time, ‘specially if this is a new group she’s been hanging with.”

“Spike is probably right, Buffy,” Giles said encouragingly. “I remember you were once outside the in-crowd.”

“Yeah, but I was in really good company,” she replied. “Oh, I’m just being a mommy. It’s probably not a big deal.”

Giles took a moment to point out his last bag, and Spike pulled it off the carousel. “That’s it,” he said, watching as Spike allowed Buffy to grab the suitcase while he took the garment bag. He followed them out to the car, realizing that Buffy had not been wrong where Spike was concerned. He was different; quieter, more reserved. There was a lack of self-assurance, even a shyness, in his body language that had never been there before. Buffy had described him as broken, and while Giles could certainly see why, he wasn’t so sure. He remembered a very young version of himself who had just discovered the limits of hubris. Humility was a form of brokenness, but very beneficial in its way.

Spike unlocked the back of the Jeep and loaded the bags. Giles frowned as he realized that he was planning on driving. “Spike? You’re driving?”

“As I explained to the Slayer, Rupert, I’ve been driving probably longer than either one of you have been alive and I’ve never gotten pulled over.” He paused. “Well, strictly speaking, that isn’t true.”

“Wait a minute,” Buffy said, eyeing him narrowly. “You said you’d never gotten a ticket. That’s one of the reasons I let you drive.”

He looked completely innocent. “I told you the truth, luv. I never did get a ticket. Got pulled over though, once in the ‘80’s for speeding.”

Giles regarded him suspiciously. “And how did you get out of receiving a ticket?”

Spike looked from one to the other of them in surprise. “I used my charm to convince the nice copper to give me a warning,” he said sarcastically. “I was evil. What do you think I did?”

Buffy stared at him. “You ate a cop?”

“Like you’ve never been on the wrong side of the law before,” he scoffed.

Buffy hesitated and then nodded without much good grace. “Okay, maybe, but I’ve never eaten the law. Giles, I don’t suppose you still have your California driver’s license?”

“Come on, Slayer,” Spike protested. “I got you here safely. I’ll get you back safely.”

“Oh, let him drive Buffy. I’m sure he’ll be whinging the entire way to your house otherwise.” Giles was watching the interplay between the two of them with much interest. There was a playfulness there that hadn’t been in the past. They’d always harassed one another mercilessly, but there had always been a hint of malice under the surface from at least one or the other of them. Now, however, there was no anger, nothing but an easy-going friendliness. Considering how their relationship had ended, it seemed that much had happened in the last two weeks.

Spike did indeed get them home safely, and even delivered Giles’ bags to his room before pleading exhaustion and disappearing to the basement. Giles watched him go thoughtfully. “I take it he’s staying downstairs.”

“Yeah, Xander had pretty much finished it. We set up a cot. He thought it would be more private than staying on the couch, and he still sleeps at weird hours sometimes.” Her eyes had followed him downstairs, and she turned to look at Giles. “I know you’re probably tired, but do you want to go for a walk?”

“I’ve been sitting for hours,” Giles replied. “It would be nice to stretch my legs.”

They ambled along with no particular destination in mind, Giles enjoying the midafternoon sun. He found it bemusing that he had missed the rain and the mist of England while in sunny California, and then had missed the sun when he’d returned. “So, tell me, Buffy,” he invited. “How is everything going?”

He listened as she rambled on, talking about how Xander was getting on, and Anya and the shop, and Dawn. Basically, everything except for how she herself was doing, and how Spike’s return had effected her. Giles let her run down and then decided to ask a question that was a bit more specific. “And how is the new job?”

She smiled, a look of true pleasure crossing her face. “It’s good. It can be completely boring, but it’s definitely better than burger-flipping. No more greasy Buffy, and the discounts are more to my taste. It’s definitely helping prevent my wardrobe from taking huge slaying-related hits.”

“Well, we certainly couldn’t be having that,” Giles replied drily.

Buffy nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t laugh. A girl likes to look good while fighting evil. It’s important.”

“I’m sure.” He smiled. It was good to be home again. “And Spike?”

“So now we get to the important stuff I’d rather avoid, huh?” Buffy looked off into the distance. “He has changed, Giles.”

Giles nodded. “I believe he has. I’m more interested in how you’re dealing with his return. After the way it ended between the two of you…” he trailed off. Buffy had told him enough about their relationship for him to be concerned about Spike’s presence in her home.

“You and everybody else. Giles, what happened is between Spike and I, and it’s going to stay that way.” She looked off into the distance. “He still loves me. How incredible is that?”

He looked at her in sympathy. “Not so remarkable considering both the source and its recipient.”

“We’re dating.”

Giles looked at her in what could only be described as alarm. “Again? Do you really believe that to be a good idea?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, giving him a dirty look. “It’s not again. We weren’t dating the first time around. And, yes, I think it’s a really good idea. We’re taking it slow, just trying to find out if we really even like each other that much.”

“A relationship is not built on the feelings of one person,” he warned her. “I dislike saying it, but while Spike may have changed, have you? Is what led up to that particular ending different enough so that it won’t happen again?”

She looked grave. “Yeah, I think so. If not, this time one of us will walk away.”

“Are you certain?”

She faced him squarely. “If I don’t walk away, Spike will. And I won’t hurt him again.” Buffy bit her lip. “I know you don’t like this, Giles, and I’m not asking you to give your blessing, but could you just go easy on him?”

Giles had wondered if she loved him, and if he were to be truthful, he was not certain that she did. But there was a look in her eyes that had not previously been there, and that she would be willing to protect him, even from her Watcher, said a lot. She had protected Angel too. “I don’t know this Spike, Buffy. If he’s as different as you claim, I don’t think I could stand in your way, even if I should like to. Until I know more, I won’t make a judgment.”

She smiled, relieved. “Thanks.”

~~~~~

Giles made his way down to the basement, walking softly. Xander had done a good job, managing to get a storage area made, fixing the water damage, and installing a wood floor that was perfect for training with the additional mats Buffy had laid out. Weapons hung on the walls and a punching bag hung from the ceiling. Spike’s cot was against the far wall, and he lay sprawled out, a book in one pale, long-fingered hand, reading. “Looking for something, Rupert?” he asked, not looking up.

“For you, actually, Spike. I wanted to talk to you.” He watched as Spike put the book down and sat up to face him. Watched as he swallowed nervously and nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Alright then.”

“Buffy told me you were dating.” Giles was amused at his startled expression. “Did you think she was going to keep it a secret from everyone?”

He motioned with his shoulders, an uncomfortable shrug. “Didn’t want her to, but yeah, I didn’t expect her to tell anyone. You going to tell me to get the hell out of town, Watcher?”

Giles met the other man’s eyes and saw youth and naked vulnerability there. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but he understood that what he was seeing was both the man the vampire had been as well as the vampire he had become. It was a curious combination, and it hit Giles that this was going to be a difficult road for both of them. “No. I went back to England so that Buffy would learn to make her own decisions. I can hardly return only to insist on making such a decision for her.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I know.” And Giles did know. This stranger before him was suddenly a very lost young man with a mild resemblence to a vampire he once knew. “I wanted to give you something.”

He handed a manilla envelope to the younger man and sat down on a folding chair that had been leaning against the wall. Spike pulled out the contents, his eyes widening as he realized what it contained. “How?” he managed.

Giles watched as he pored over the birth certificate, passport, driver’s license, and various assorted documents that identified him as a real person. “I called in some favors and rearranged a branch on the family tree.” At his startled reaction, Giles raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I would actually bring forgeries into the country with me, did you? This is not a good time to attempt that kind of smuggling. All the information is exact, save for the last name. According to the paperwork, we are very distantly related. Third cousins, twice removed, or something like that.”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t understand. You hate me.”

“No, I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t confess to actually liking you either, but I do not hate you. Buffy needs an ally, Spike, and you cannot be that in your present state without some options and a modicum of protection. Proper documentation grants you both.” Giles regarded him for a long moment. “What are your intentions toward her at this point?”

Spike gazed at the paperwork with something like awe. “This must have cost a pretty penny, Rupert. I can’t pay you back.” He looked at the Watcher and then glanced away again at his implacable look. “I thought to come back and apologize, let her kick me in the teeth a few times. Then I’d stay or go, whatever she wanted. I never expected this to be it.” He shrugged. “I just want her to be happy. That’s all.”

“And yourself?” Giles asked.

Spike looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want for yourself, Spike?”

Spike’s look didn’t change. “I want her to be happy.”

Giles nodded. “I see. I’d like you to do me a favor.”

Nodding, Spike replied, “If I can, I will. I owe you for this.”

“I have a friend who teaches at the university and she’s been having a problem that’s stumped us both. I’d like you to see if you couldn’t be of some help.” Giles prayed that this worked. He hadn’t been certain of his actions before he got to Sunnydale, but he thought he could kill two birds with one stone. Spike needed someone to help him get on his feet again, and Elizabeth needed help that she couldn’t find elsewhere.

“What makes you think I could do anything for her?” Spike asked.

“I believe you received a university education, did you not?” When Spike nodded, Giles continued. “My friend is head of the classics and ancient religions department. There’s a document that talks about a particular ritual along with a certain artifact. I thought you might be familiar with one or the other.”

Spike looked unsure. “I’ll try, Rupert, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I’m not expecting a miracle, nor am I requiring that you accomplish anything. I just thought you might be able to shed some light.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” Giles stood. “I believe the others should be here shortly, if you feel up to dinner with all of us.”

“Why not?” Spike said, and Giles could hear him muttering faintly as he climbed the stairs. “This should be an interesting evening.”

~~~~~

Buffy glanced around the room, alarmed to find Spike absent. She looked over at Dawn who was

listening absently to the conversation. “Dawn, have you seen Spike?”

Dawn looked over at her sister in surprise. “He went downstairs about a half hour ago. Do you want me to check on him?”

Buffy hesitated and decided to allow her sister to go down. As much as she wanted to see how he was, she didn’t want to make a scene. She’d had her share of the whole emotional sharing thing for one day. “Will you?” she asked with relief.

Dawn nodded, not saying that she had really wanted to talk to him anyway, away from everyone else. As close as she and Buffy had grown, there were still some things she didn’t really want to talk to her sister about, namely anything that would give lie to the fact that she was a popular, well-adjusted teenager. She descended the stairs to the basement, and saw immediately that Spike was sitting cross-legged on his cot, reading. “Hi, Niblet,” he said, looking up at her.

“Buffy wanted me to check on you and make sure you’re okay,” Dawn said, feeling lame even as she did.

“I’m fine, Bit. I just needed some space, that’s all.” He looked at her steadily. “What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly, his dark blue eyes serious and intent.

“I wanted to ask you something.” When he nodded, she continued. “Why do some people fit in and others don’t?”

That caused both eyebrows to raise. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask,” he replied. “I’ve never fit in anywhere.”

“You fit in with me and Buffy,” she replied, stung.

He smiled a little then, sadly. “You can fit with a person sometimes even when you can’t make it in the crowd they run with. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t seem to fit in anywhere at all,” she replied, misery evident in her voice and face.

“Come ‘ere,” he replied, patting the bed beside him. She sat down, and he put a friendly arm around her shoulders. “This about your friends at the Bronze the other night?”

“They’re not my friends,” she replied automatically. “Janice started hanging with them a lot, and they really like her. And they let me tag along, but they’re not my friends.”

Spike sighed. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this gig. Everything he touched in life seemed to turn to dust and ashes, and he didn’t want to screw this up. “I would have to say fitting in is a little like falling in love,” he said thoughtfully. “It has to do with chemistry, and liking the same things, and having the same interests. And sometimes, through no fault of their own, a person just doesn’t make the cut.”

Dawn looked as though she were about to cry. “So you mean I’m doomed? I’m never going to have any friends at all?”

Spike rolled his eyes and snorted. “I didn’t say anything o’ the sort, Dawn, and you know it. All I’m saying is that you might not fit in with this crowd, but it’s nothin’ about you. It’s just about how things happen sometimes. Give it time. You’ll find some kids your own age who like you fine. No reason why anyone wouldn’t.”

Dawn leaned back against Spike and wished she could just stay there. She’d always felt safe with him, and being with him now made her believe that everything might be okay. “You said you never fit in? Not even before you were a vampire?”

“No,” he said softly, remembering. “I didn’t have a place then, but I wanted one.”

“And after you became a vampire?” she asked.

It hadn’t all been roses and the hunt, Spike remembered. It had also meant pain, and fearing Angelus, and knowing he was the youngest of their family and the most expendable. And it had meant knowing, somewhere deep down inside of him, that Drusilla didn’t love him nearly as much as he loved her. “It was better. The best times were when it was just me and Dru, after Angelus got his soul and Darla left us alone.”

“And then?” Dawn asked. It helped to know someone else had been in the same boat she was in, even someone as cool as Spike had been.

“And then your sister put me in a chair and I helped her save the world. That was pretty much the end of it for me, Bit. You know the rest of the story.” He looked at her and smiled. “You’ve got more going for you than I ever did. You’ve got friends, and a sister who thinks the world of you, and for what it’s worth, you’ve got me. You’re beautiful and smart and full of all kinds o’ potential. You just sit tight, be yourself, and things’ll work themselves out.”

“Thanks, Spike,” she said, hugging him. “I think I’m going to go back upstairs. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I think I’m going to try to sleep in a while,” he replied. “You go ahead.” He watched her go up the stairs and laid back on the bed. “So maybe I didn’t screw that up…” he whispered to the ceiling.

~~~~~

The body has memories of its own. Spike’s body remembered all kinds of things, and that’s

usually what he dreamed of. Sometimes it was the taste of blood, the feel of it running down his face, his hands, his throat. It was the sound of flesh ripping, of girls screaming, of harsh panting as they ran from him. And it was the smell of death, of endings, of wood. These were the dreams he had on some nights. But on others it was a different kind of memory, one where he felt fangs sinking into the soft flesh of his throat, heard Drusilla’s seductive offer, and chose once again, over and over again, to take on the form of the demon. These were the nights he woke covered in sweat and unable to return to sleep.

But there were other things that were there, buried deep within his mind. He had realized when he returned that he had each of their scents memorized, Buffy’s, and Dawn’s, and Giles’ and the other Scoobies’, so that even if he no longer had the amplified olfactory senses of a vampire, he knew when one of them came into a room. And he remembered the speed and the strength being a vampire had given him with longing when faced with tiredness, and hunger, and thirst, and cold, and sickness. But he had faced all of these head-on while making his way back to Buffy. He had learned to fight with more cunning and less speed, more wisdom and less strength. Spike, who had known no retreat, had come to understand its strategic value, and had accepted it. As he had accepted the fact that Buffy would never love him. As he accepted the fact that with the return of his humanity would possibly come the return of William, and that he would be nothing again, though he realized that in a very real way he had been less than nothing before. Nothing more than animated dust.

Which was why it amazed him when he woke from his nightmare, sweaty and panicked and exhausted, that he could scent Buffy in the room, and he called out to her.

“Spike? I thought you were asleep.” She came toward him, and he could make out the dim outline of her form in the darkness.

“I was.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position as she came to sit down beside him.

“Another nightmare?” she asked quietly. “Maybe we could get Willow to make something for you. Nothing drastic, just something that might help with the dreams.”

He shook his head. “I’ll get through them.”

“You know, macho ex-vampires are really not attractive,” she replied, but he could hear the smile in her voice, and he took no offense. “Let me try to help you.”

“I still don’t know why you’d want to,” he replied.

“Because I can.” Buffy sighed and reached out to smooth back sweat-soaked hair. “You took off pretty early this evening,” she commented.

He shook his head, though he didn’t move away from her touch. “It’s not me anymore, Buffy,” he replied. “Like I’ve said, I spent most of last year alone, and I realized I liked it. I liked the quiet. And I don’t fit in with your Scoobies. I never have.”

“You could,” she insisted. “You just need to give them a chance.”

“Give me some time,” he pleaded. “I just need a little time.”

Her hand stilled on his forehead, and then she touched the side of his face gently. “Take all the time you need,” she replied. “You gave that to me when I came back from the dead. But, Spike—please don’t run away from me.”

“Never you, luv.”

“Come on,” she said finally, after a long silence. “You really need to get some sleep.”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to be able to sleep again tonight, Buffy. You might as well go to bed.”

“I’m still wired from patrol,” she replied. “It’s all right. I’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

He lay down obediently, too tired to argue with her. “I’m going to start patrolling with you.”

“Yeah, right,” she replied. “Go to sleep, Spike.”

“If I don’t go with you, I’ll follow you,” he insisted. “I’m serious, Buffy. I may not be a vampire, but I’ve got a hundred years worth of fighting experience stored up. I can bloody well take care of m’self.”

She smiled at his indignant tone, and realized that he was probably right. “Besides,” he went on, oblivious to the fact that she was about to capitulate, “you’ve been lettin’ the Scoobies tag along with you and they don’t even have half the experience that I do.”

“You’re right. It’s stupid of me to even think about not letting you come along.” She laid her fingers across his lips. “But, Spike? Go to sleep.”

It was corny, and it was something that he’d never have admitted to, but with Buffy sitting next to him, he was willing to believe that the nightmares might not come back, that she might actually be able to chase them off. And so he slept as she watched.

“No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:/Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud./Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,/And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud./All men make faults, and even I in this,/Authorizing thy trespass with compare,/ Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,/Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;/For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense--/Thy adverse party is thy advocate--/And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence./Such civil war is in my love and hate,/That I an accessory needs must be/To that sweet thief which hourly robs from me.” ~Shakespeare

Giles was taking his first sip of coffee when Spike wandered up the stairs from the basement. “Oi, Rupert,” Spike said, yawning.

“Good morning, Spike,” he replied. “Sleep well?”

The younger man considered his question for a moment, then shrugged. “Well enough. Would you mind me using your loo? The girls’ll be up any minute and I’ve still got my clothes in your room.”

He nodded. “Certainly. Though, I would remind you we’re going to meet my friend at the university later.”

Spike nodded, then flushed slightly. “Hope you didn’t need me lookin’ any nicer, Watcher. I don’t have much in the way of clothes.”

“Whatever you have will be fine, I’m sure. Elizabeth isn’t one for pretense.” He watched as Spike went out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second level. The younger man did seem a little more rested today, though there was still a worn look about him. Well, he hoped Liz would be able to do something for him.

“Hey, Giles,” Buffy said, coming into the kitchen. “You’re up early.”

“As are you,” he pointed out. “I happen to have an appoinment at the university this morning. I’m taking Spike to see an old friend of mine.”

Buffy glanced over at him, a sly look in her eyes. “Your friend is old, right?”

He gave her the look he always gave her when he thought she was being silly. “Actually, she is old. Probably twenty years my senior, though she would string me up if she knew I’d said that.”

“My lips are sealed,” Buffy replied, pouring herself some coffee. “Is Spike up yet?” she asked nonchalantly.

“He went to get cleaned up in the master bathroom, I believe.” Giles watched as Buffy puttered around the kitchen, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and trying not to look as though she were waiting for something. Or someone.

Spike came downstairs just a few minutes later, dressed in the requisite black jeans and a blue t-shirt that looked new. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Giles couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to freeze when he looked at Buffy. As though he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune. As though she was going to turn on him at any moment. He was still wound wire-tight, and that wouldn’t change until he felt more secure in who he was and what he had to offer.

“Hey, Spike,” Buffy said softly. “I like the blue.”

The ex-vampire looked suddenly shy. “Yeah, thanks for that, luv.”

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I got it,” he replied. “Better drink your coffee before you have to leave for work.” She touched his arm as she passed him in the narrow confines of the kitchen, and he flinched slightly. It was one thing to take her caresses in the night. He knew about that, knew that was where their relationship had always belonged. But when she touched him like that, casually, in the daylight, it felt wrong. Good, but wrong, as though a bolt of lightning were about to come down out of the sky at any moment. Their eyes met then, and something passed between them, a sort of understanding that made Buffy actually grab his hand and give it a squeeze. And then she let him go, and the moment passed, and he went on to eat his breakfast.

Buffy left in a whirl fifteen minutes later, and Dawn came down the stairs to join the men in the kitchen. “Buffy already leave?”

“Yeah, Bit, you just missed her,” Spike replied, giving Dawn’s hair a friendly pull.

“Stop that,” she said, but there was no irritation in her voice. “What are you guys doing today?” she asked.

“We have an appointment to see one of my friends at the university,” Giles replied.

Spike immediately caught the disappointed look on her face, and he glanced over at the Watcher, meeting his eyes. “Maybe you could come with us, Bit. The appointment shouldn’t take that long, at least they won’t need me for much. An hour or so, we’ll get out of there, do something.”

“Really?” she asked. “You wouldn’t mind?” she asked, turning to Giles.

“I believe something to that effect might be arranged,” he replied. “But you’ll have to hurry, Dawn. We need to leave in a half hour.”

“I’m on it,” Dawn replied, racing up the stairs, leaving the two men to their coffee.

“Sorry if you didn’t want company, Rupert, but the Bit’s feelin’ down and out lately. Wanted to cheer her up if I could.” Giles normally stern features softened when he saw the earnestness on Spike’s face.

“It’s quite all right. We’ll work it out when we get there. Speaking of—” he went to the door as the doorbell rang and collected the keys to his rental car from the driver. “I will say this for Americans. They’re rather good when it comes to convenience.”

Spike frowned slightly as Giles’ voice floated into the kitchen, remembering another time when convenience was so all-bloody important. His memory flashed back, and he shook it off. There was something in his Slayer’s eyes that hadn’t been there before, something in her smile. And yet, she might have told her Watcher about their relationship, but the real test would be whether or not she told her friends, and what she would do when the inevitable storm broke. Then he would see whether he would be staying or going, because he needed something more from Buffy. He needed her to back him to the fullest, because he didn’t have the resources to keep himself together without that this time around.

~~~~~

Spike followed Giles into the narrow hallway leading to the Classics department. “Doesn’t look

like much,” Spike muttered.

“It’s a bit cramped,” Giles admitted, “but it seems to be a common malady in Classics departments the world over. It’s only the science buildings that get all the space, you know.”

“Rupert?” An older woman exited one of the office doors, smiling. “I thought I heard your voice. It’s so good to see you again.” She walked up to Giles and pulled him into an embrace, which he returned warmly.

“It’s good to see you too, Lizzie.” Giles pulled back and looked back at his companions. “Lizzie, this is Sp—er, William, and Dawn. This is Dr. Kearns”

“Ah, of course.” She smiled at both of them impartially. Spike thought she was probably somewhere around her late sixties or early seventies. Her iron gray hair was cut stylishly short, and the lines around her mouth and eyes were those that came from a lifetime of laughter. Her dark eyes were warm, and there was an immediate sense of connection. He liked this woman.

“Dawn is Buffy’s younger sister. I told you about both of them, I believe.” Giles gently pushed Dawn forward, and the girl complied by holding out her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dawn said self-consciously.

Liz shook her hand. “It’s my pleasure,” she replied, sounding as though she meant it. “You know, Rupert, I hardly think Dawn wants to be cooped up with a couple old fogies. Why don’t you leave William and I to talk and come back in an hour or so? We can catch up then.”

“If you’re sure?” Giles replied uncertainly.

“Well, I won’t bite, and I’m sure William won’t.” There was a hint of mischief in her voice that made Spike’s eyes narrow suspiciously, wondering what exactly Giles had told her about him.

“Yes, well,” Giles muttered. “We’ll be back in about an hour then.”

Spike wasn’t precisely worried about being left alone with Dr. Kearns, but he had the distinct impression that the Watcher hadn’t told him everything, and he didn’t like that feeling one bit. Liz turned to him, smiling. “I suppose Giles didn’t tell you anything.”

Spike hesitated, hands sunk deep into his pockets and shoulders hunched. “Well, he told me you had a problem an’ I could help you solve it.”

She smiled. “That’s the truth, but not the whole of it. Come on in, and I’ll explain the rest.” She led him into the office. “Would you like a cuppa?”

“Please.” She pointed him to a chair by his desk and poured two mugs of tea.

“The problem that I need help with involves finding a graduate assistant,” she explained, handing him a mug.

Spike frowned. “He thought I could help you find an assistant?”

“No, he thought you would be perfect.”

“Me?” Spike sputtered. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why would I be? From what Rupert said, you received a degree from Cambridge.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“And you received a classical education? Which would make you fluent in both Latin and Greek.” She regarded him calmly.

Spike wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was going, but he was willing to follow along for a while. “That’s right.”

Liz smiled. “Really? That’s very unusual these days.”

“My father was a stickler,” Spike said smoothly. It wasn’t precisely a lie, since his father had been a stickler. And after his father died, his mother had insisted on a good education for her son, believing it to be his best chance and his best asset.

“And when exactly did you graduate from Cambridge?” she asked.

Spike froze. He knew there had been a revised college diploma in with the rest of the documents that Giles had handed him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember the date. And he knew that Liz probably knew. Meeting her eyes he realized that his earlier impression had been correct, and he decided to go for the truth, assuming she already knew it. “1878. But you already knew that.”

Her lips twitched. “I did. You must understand, William, that I have had three different assistants in three years. And I like to keep my assistants until they graduate.” She paused to sip her tea. “Those who come here are unacquainted with the realities of magic, especially as they manifest on the Hellmouth. I believe my first student was killed, probably by vampires, though she just disappeared one day. The second informed me very politely after the first semester that this wasn’t what he signed up for and left to pursue other avenues.”

“Both common maladies in Sunnydale,” he observed, with a twist of his lips. “And the third?”

“Was sucked in. He decided he liked magic and its effects more than studying it, and he left to pursue the black arts.” Liz met his eyes, any hint of humor gone. “When Rupert told me he may have solved my problem, I was skeptical. But with your background, you understand both the reality and the danger inherent in magic of any kind, even if we are simply doing research about ancient practices and religions. If you are willing to give it a go, I would be.”

“You’re right,” Spike said quietly. “I don’t trust magic. Sounds absurd comin’ from me, but it’s not really natural, and it’s dangerous. There’re always consequences. Seen some of ‘em first hand.”

“You’re talking about Buffy,” Dr. Kearns said quietly.

“Damn right,” Spike replied. “Rupert told you about it.”

She nodded. “I was one of those he consulted after the spell was done. There’s a bit more to this job than just research. You’d be a full-fledged graduate student, which means taking classes, and you’d be teaching my Greek mythology course, as well as helping me with the beginning Greek and Latin classes. Is this something you’d consider doing?”

“I don’t know why you’d want me,” he replied. “My Greek and Latin are rusty, to say the least, and I haven’t been in a classroom in over a century. There’s got to be blokes more qualified than I am.”

“I believe your wide knowledge of the supernatural more than compensates,” Liz responded. “Have you ever taught before?”

Spike paused, and then shrugged sheepishly. “Yeh, I taught. Was pretty decent at it really. I still don’t understand why you want me, though.”

She smiled slightly. “Did Rupert tell you where we met?” When he shook his head, she went on. “It was after he registered at university for the second time. He’d gone through his youthful rebellion, and had wound up being a party to the death of a friend. Rupert was in a great deal of emotional pain when he came to me. I’d asked to have a student assigned to me as a research assistant and he volunteered. There were those who called me crazy, literally, for taking him on. There were rumors flying as to what had really happened, and I knew there was some truth to them, mostly because I asked him. But I believed he wanted to change. When Rupert called me, he told me much the same thing about you.”

“So you want to put the pieces back together?” Spike asked, his tone bitter.

“Is that what you want?” she asked. “I need an assistant. You need a job. It sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”

“I’m assumin’ my services don’t come for free,” he said.

“There’s a significant stipend, which would be retroactive to the beginning of this summer if you’d be willing to start on Monday,” Liz replied, her tone coaxing.

Spike was still hesitant. This wasn’t what he had pictured himself doing, and yet this was something William would have wanted so long ago. The man Spike had been was a scholar and a teacher, and he’d been very good at both, though he’d sucked as a poet. The demon he’d been wouldn’t have admitted to opening a book if his life depended on it, though he certainly had read on and off over the years. But now, he was neither and both of those, and he had no idea what or who he wanted to be. On the other hand, this was something he could do, and it would allow him to help Buffy. Perhaps for now that was enough. “I’ll be here Monday,” he said.

“It’ll be good to have you on board, William,” she replied. “Though, I must suggest that you find another wardrobe by the time school begins. Nothing fancy, but the Classics department tends to be a bit more on the stuffy side than some of the others. No tie or jacket required, but you might think about getting that girlfriend of yours to take you shopping.”

He stared at her in horror. “Don’t think so. I can dress myself.” He stood with his hand on the door, and she saw that he suddenly looked very young. “You really think you’re doin’ the right thing, Doc? ‘m known for my stunning ability to bollocks things up.”

Liz smiled. “I have every confidence in you, William. Look at my last success. With any luck you’ll turn out like Rupert.”

“Please God no,” he muttered reverently under his breath, joining Dawn and the Watcher out in the hallway, Liz’s peals of laughter echoing behind him.

~~~~~

“So let me get this straight,” Dawn said. “You’re getting paid to go to school and do research.”

“Well, I’ll be teaching a class too,” Spike replied. They were walking through campus amiably, enjoying the weather and one another’s company.

“That is so cool,” Dawn said, giving her seal of approval. “I’d like school so much better if I got paid to go. Do you think I could convince…”

“Not much chance of that,” Spike replied, smiling. “But stick with it long enough, and you too may become one of the privileged few.”

“I still can’t believe you graduated from college,” Dawn replied, grinning at him. “I mean, you never seemed like the type.”

“Was that an insult, Bit?” he asked mildly.

“No,” Dawn said. “Well, maybe a little bit of an insult, but I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that you were more, I don’t know, the rock band type or something.”

“Thanks, I think,” he replied.

“But I think it’s cool,” she insisted. “That you could do both, you know. Kind of be both.”

He gave her an intense look. “Just because people think of you one way, doesn’t mean you can’t go and upset all their expectations, Bit. I’ve been doin’ that for years now.”

Dawn looked a little uncomfortable, knowing that he was talking about her situation with her friends. “It’s not that easy in high school, Spike. Besides, nobody really knows what to expect from you anymore. You’re sorta unpredictable.”

Spike understood better than Dawn knew, but there wasn’t any way for him to tell her that and have her believe him. He was, to put it in cliched terms, way too old to understand the current state of things in public high schools. What Dawn didn’t realize yet was that very little changed, even in a century or more. “How do you think I got that way, Niblet? At some point you gotta decide to say, ‘Sod off,’ and just go about your business.”

Dawn just shrugged, knowing he was probably right, but certain that it wasn’t that easy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, pet.”

“What happens if you and Buffy break up again?” Her face was solemn as she watched him.

“What makes you think we’re goin’ out again in the first place?” he asked, frowning.

She rolled her eyes, a classic Summers gesture. “Because Buffy told me last night.”

“Oh,” he replied, ingeniusly. “Well, I suppose I walk.”

“You’d leave again?” she asked.

Spike stared at her. “I’d move out, yeah, but I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “You’re always gonna be my girl, Lil’ Bit, no matter what happens between your sis and I.”

“That’s okay then,” Dawn said. They walked along towards the Summers residence in companionable silence. As they were nearing the house, Dawn looked over at Spike with a question she was too scared to voice.

“Spill it,” he said, catching her look.

“Do you miss it? Being a vampire I mean?”

He shook his head in wonder. Trust Dawn to be the one to ask him that question. Buffy would wonder, but never say anything, and the rest of the Scoobies would assume or make snide comments, but the Bit had a characteristic directness when it came to Spike that let him know on exactly what ground he stood with her at all times. It was refreshing and a bit scary all at once, and it definitely kept him on his toes. “Being a vampire is about doing what you want, taking what you want, when you want,” he replied thoughtfully after a moment’s silence. “And I could tell you that I don’t miss that, but I’d be lying. Because you’ve got this strength and power that no human could ever have, except maybe for the Slayer, and it’s like a drug almost. It’s why there isn’t a vampire in history would do what I’ve done.”

“So you do miss it,” Dawn stated. “Would you go back then?”

“Not for all the tea in China,” he said decisively, and when she frowned, he glanced up at the sky, trying to find the words to explain. “You think bein’ a vampire is about freedom, and when that’s what you are, it’s true. You think about all those little humans, running around, tied to their lives, and you think you’ve got it made, right? But people have the ability to walk in the sun, and marry and have kiddies, and the white picket fence an’ all that. And you can see beauty for what it is without wantin’ to destroy it, and you can love someone without everybody thinkin’ you’d gone off your nut.”

Spike looked at her intently. “Whatever I might have wanted when I asked for my soul back, I wouldn’t change one thing, because I got half a chance at doin’ all those things vampires can’t even hope for. No way would I go back to what I was, Bit, because it was a prison of sorts. I tried to break out of it for the longest time, and maybe under better circumstances I might of made it, but this seems to be the only way.”

Dawn hesitated, and then reached out to touch his arm. “I’m really glad you came back, Spike.” It was the only gift she had to give him, the only thing she could think of to say to all that. And it seemed to be enough.

He slung an arm around her shoulders companionably. “Come on, Bit. I saw Rupert givin’ you some entertainment money, let’s go get entertained.”

~~~~~

“Hey, Dawn,” Buffy said as she walked into the kitchen. “Did you and Spike have a nice time today?”

Dawn grinned. “Yeah. We went out to lunch and then to a movie. It was a lot of fun, you know? He’s really easy to be around.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah, I suppose he is.” Though what she was really thinking was that it wasn’t that easy when you were still trying to figure out whether or not you were in love with him. “Where is Spike?”

“Downstairs. He said he wanted to work out and take a shower before everybody comes over tonight.”

“Thanks,” Buffy murmured absently as she headed towards the basement. She could hear the sounds of fists on a punching bag as she came down, and soon saw him. He was barechested, his pale skin gleaming with sweat, muscles twisting with his movements. He had always been lean, and while he was still too thin, he didn’t look quite as bony. In fact, he looked just plain good. Pure physical attraction hit her somewhere below the belt.

“Hey,” he said, pausing, though not turning around. “How was work?”

“Good,” she replied. “I picked up another couple shirts for you. They were on sale and with my discount, it was just too much of a good deal to pass up.”

He turned to look at her. “You shouldn’t do that, pet. I can buy my own clothes.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah, how? And besides, even if you could, I wanted to.”

He smiled, pleased, though there was a touch of smugness in his face. “Actually, starting Monday, I’m gainfully employed, luv.”

Her eyes widened. “What? Where?”

“Two very well articulated questions,” he teased. Taking pity, he explained. “Rupert’s friend was in need of a graduate assistant, and he recommended me. Wouldn’t have said yes, except the stipend was actually quite good. And it’s something I know—or at least I knew how to do it, once upon a time.”

Buffy’s face broke out into a smile. “That’s really wonderful, Spike. I’m proud of you.”

Something seemed to light him up from the inside out. “Yeah? Wasn’t much to it, really. If it had been that easy to get a position back when—”

“Still, you’re doing something really worthwhile. I mean, a graduate assistant.” Suddenly Buffy realized exactly what that meant. “Wait a minute. Does that mean you’re going to be a doctor? Like, Dr. Spike? And I haven’t even finished college yet. What does that say about me?”

Spike took her by the arms. “First of all, luv, I finished college over a hundred years ago, so I had a bit of a head start on you. And second, I don’t even know if this is something I want to do. I’ll give the good doctor a bit of a hand, see if it’s something I want to stick with, and give it some time. Don’t know that I’ll last that long.”

“If you want to, you will,” Buffy said quietly. “You could do pretty much anything you put your mind to, Spike.”

“Except be a successful vampire,” he said wryly.

“At the moment, I am so thinking that’s a good thing,” she replied, suddenly realizing how close he was to her, and how nice he looked, and how much—

He broke away abruptly. “I should probably shower. Can’t smell very nice, after all that.”

“Wait,” Buffy called. “I was going to put in some training time. Do you want to help?”

“Only if you want me to, luv.”

She nodded. “I want you to. Let me go get changed.”

They trained hard for another hour, Buffy noticing that Spike’s endurance had gotten a lot better over the last couple weeks. While he was still tired a lot of the time, she thought that it was probably more due to the nightmares and not sleeping than the after-effects of his illness. His speed had changed, as had his strength, but he’d found ways around it. Spike had always been a cunning fighter, and now it was even more pronounced. And while she pulled her punches, it didn’t take her long to realize that he could still absorb a lot of punishment and keep coming. His persistance hadn’t changed a bit.

In the end, they both lay on the mat spent, Buffy grinning happily. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a training session that was that good,” she commented. “Some of those moves, I’ve never seen you use them before.”

Spike grimaced. “Well, you try going halfway ‘round the globe with no identification and no cash. Had to make up quite a few moves just to stay in one piece.”

“Will you tell me about it someday?” Buffy asked.

He propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. “Tell you about this last year, you mean?” He considered. “Someday I will, pet. But it’s a little too close for comfort if you know what I mean. Still can’t seem to sleep without one eye open, waitin’ for trouble.”

“I understand,” Buffy said quietly. “It’s still a little too fresh to deal with right now. Like it’ll creep up and bite you in the ass if you think about it too much.”

He gave her his lopsided grin. “That’s it. Had too many things taking chunks out of my arse recently to give something else a shot. I’d like to tell you about it, though.”

Smiling, she replied. “Well, just let me know when and I’ll be listen-y Buffy. I’ve gotten pretty good at it in the last year.”

“I’ll just bet you have, pet,” he replied. “We’d probably better get cleaned up though.”

“Yeah.” It was like the end of a first date where neither person knows what to do or say to end the evening. Do you kiss? Do you hug? Do you jump his bones right there on the exercise mat? Thinking about it, Buffy figured the last one was out. Spike had definitely made that option off limits, though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have minded. Instead, she twisted to her feet in a patented Buffy move to get off the floor fast, and reached a hand down to help him up. “It would be nice to have some company on patrol tonight,” she said when they were both standing. “No heroics, but I’d like it if you wanted to come along.” At least this way she could prolong the moment.

Spike smiled as though he knew exactly what she was feeling and was enjoying her discomfort. “Then I’d like to go.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, whispering in her ear, “You’re gorgeous after a good bout, luv.” And then he took the stairs two at a time, whistling a happy tune.

~~~~~

Spike watched. More than anything, it was what he did now. Taste the room, the people, the

moods. Find out what everyone is thinking, what people aren’t saying. Figure out what they’re feeling. He’d always been good at that, reading the Scoobies, understanding their strengths and weaknesses, where the cracks in their armor were. A couple years ago he filed it away so he could use it later to get under their collective skin. Today it was simply information, a habit that he’d picked up over the last century of living. Tonight, he was feeling a little uncomfortable. He’d more or less promised Buffy to stick around, and since he was going on patrol later, he couldn’t very well plead exhaustion and go to bed. But he’d immediately realized that Xander was in a bad mood, and from the glances he’d been getting from the other man all evening, he had a feeling that it would eventually turn into a round of kick-the-Spike.

Sure enough, at a lull in the conversation, Xander looked over at him, and asked snidely, “So, Spike, you ever think about getting a job? Maybe stop mooching off Buffy?”

Before Spike could frame a decent comeback, Giles stepped in. “Actually, Xander, Spike has a job. Liz Kearns, the head of the Classics department at the university, has hired him as a research assistant.”

Xander looked like someone had just hit him with a two-by-four. Whatever he had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Willow looked surprised, but also excited. “Dr. Kearns? She’s one of the foremost experts of the uses of ritual and magic in the ancient world. Her research is absolutely incredible.” She gave him a big smile. “That’s great that you get to work for her, Spike. I mean, what an opportunity!”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Red. We’ll see if she still wants me around at the end of the semester.”

“Are you going to be teaching any of her classes?” Willow asked. “Her grad assistants usually teach the intro course for Greek Mythology.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, guess I will be teaching that one. Like I said, we’ll see if she still wants to keep me on at the end of the semester. Hard to tell really.”

Willow shook her head. “I’ve heard stories about some of the TA’s for the Classics department. You can’t be any worse than the rest of them.”

He shrugged, a bit embarrassed by the attention and her unequivocal support. He hadn’t really been sure that Buffy would be all that impressed, but to have both Red and the Slayer on his side, cheering him on, was a completely new experience.

“I think you’ll do great too,” Buffy said, slipping her hand into his. She’d deliberately taken a seat next to him on the couch, which had raised Xander’s eyebrows, but Spike had seen it as a very subtle way of making a statement. He decided to make it a little less subtle.

Lifting her hand up to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “Thanks, pet.”

Buffy’s eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what he was doing. When she didn’t say anything or try to pull her hand away, Xander spoke up, as Spike knew he would. “Is there something going on here that we should know about?”

Spike waited. There was still time for her to back out of it, to deny all knowledge, but instead she just smiled. “Spike and I are dating,” she said calmly.

“You and Spike are what?” he asked incredulously. “What is it with you and vampires, Buffy?”

Spike watched as annoyance flickered across her face. “Spike’s not a vampire anymore, Xander.”

“Oh, right,” the carpenter said sourly. “He’s just the ex-vampire who tried to rape you. Yeah, he’s breathing, Buf, but he’s still Spike.”

“Which I happen to feel is a good thing,” she replied, heat in her tone. “Xander, what is your problem?”

“Look, Buffy, I get that he came back and he was sick and you wanted to take care of him. But he’s obviously better now, and after what he did to you, I’d think you’d send him on his way, not date him again. Are you just keeping him around to f—”

Buffy’s glare stopped him before he got the last word out, but not before it hung in the air, unsaid but understood. A hushed silence fell, and even Spike had nothing to say right away. But just as he gathered himself up to give Xander a good tongue-lashing followed by a fist in the face, Buffy laid a hand on his arm and gave a quick shake of the head.

Spike looked at her, betrayal flashing across his features. He couldn’t believe that she was going to sit there and take it, or that she would ask him to. He stood abruptly, heading out of the room, a sour taste in his mouth. “Spike, wait,” she called after him. “I think you need to hear this just as much as everybody else.”

He paused in the doorway reluctantly. He didn’t want to hear her justifications or defenses. What he wanted was for her to tell the Whelp to sod off and get his own life instead of mucking about in hers, but that would be too much to hope for. But still he waited.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Buffy said quietly. “Spike and I are going out because we wanted to try to do things right this time, and we both feel like we have a shot at it. What happened between us is just that: between us. We’re trying to get past it, and we can’t do that if everyone is continually bringing it up. So that’s it. No more. We’ll work it out in our own time and in our own way.

“Another thing. Spike’s my boyfriend.” She looked directly at Xander as she said this. “That means hands off. And I mean that literally and figuratively, Xander. I have always been polite to the people you dated, and I expect the same treatment. You don’t make comments like that, not to me, not to a roomful of people, and not to Spike. He’s completely capable of taking care of himself, and after tonight I’m going to let him, but I want to let you know where I stand. There will be no more kicking of the Spike. If you can’t be polite, you’ll find yourself with a disinvite to this house until you can be, and I mean it.” With that, she turned and walked past Spike out of the room. He stood in the doorway, stunned, and then followed her out to the back porch.

“Well,” he said as he exited the back door. “That was something.” He sat down next to Buffy on the steps. She leaned into him briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry that had to happen,” she said quietly.

“I’m not,” he replied. “Wouldn’t have passed that up for anything.”

Buffy looked over at him. “I really don’t get it. I swear he does this every time I have a new boyfriend. You think he’d just get over it.”

Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He and the soldier boy seemed to get on well enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, Riley was a god,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Riley got himself sucked on by vampire chicks and then left. And then he came back with a new, perfect wife.” She paused, looking at him suspiciously. “Wait a minute here. You’re supposed to be on my side. I thought you hated Riley.”

“I did,” Spike said. “More accurately, I do. However, he’s the prat what ran off, and I’m the guy that got the girl. I can afford to be magnanimous.”

Buffy laughed and shook her head. “You’re too much, Spike. But you’re right. You got the girl.” They stared at each other for a long moment and Spike reached over to cup her cheek. “Kiss me,” she whispered, “or I swear I will kick your ass.”

His lips curved in a smile and he gave her exactly what she wanted.

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