Sorrow’s Own Joys

By enigmaticblue

Disclaimer: I don’t own them. Though, now that the show’s ended, maybe nobody owns them. Can I plant my flag? No? Well, I’m not making any money anyway.

A/N: This story is the sequel to “Hoping’s Very Fears.” If you haven’t read that one, I’d strongly recommend you do so. Otherwise, it probably won’t make any sense. Set in the summer right after BtVS S5. (My Season 5 that is.)

Chapter 1: Running Away

Spike tipped the bottle back again, only to find it empty. With a grunt and a sigh, he tossed it across the room, disappointed when it merely bounced off the wall and rolled across the floor. If he had still been in the crypt, it would have broken with a satisfying tinkle of glass.

But he wasn’t in his crypt. He wasn’t in his crypt because he’d tried to get himself killed by a really nasty warlock, and what did he get for his troubles?

Nothing. A big fat zero.

There was that one evening with Buffy where he thought they were going somewhere, somewhere other than friendship. She had seem engaged, ready to start moving along, and then nothing at all.

Spike had walked her home, like any normal guy might, he’d given her a kiss at the front door, and then Buffy had begun the process of ignoring him. He’d let a few days go by, and then gone he’d over to her house to see her. Buffy had smiled, said she was busy, maybe in a few days. Spike had given her the requisite time, all the while trying to patrol with her. Even on patrol she managed to avoid him, however, and after another few days of avoidance, Spike had gotten a little more aggressive.

No one had said anything to him, though he’d gotten some pitying looks from her friends, but Buffy made sure she was unavailable any time he even got close. Spike had resorted to sneaking into the Summers’ residence to ask Dawn what was going on, but all the littler Summers had to say was that Buffy wasn’t really talking to anyone. He shouldn’t be feeling left out.

Three weeks of that kind of treatment had left him frustrated, with the beginnings of furious. Spike had managed to finally confront her while she was on patrol. The details of which would be forever burned on his memory.

“Buffy!” Spike ran to catch up with the Slayer as she walked briskly through Pleasant Rest cemetery.

The Slayer turned to look back at him. “Spike. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he replied. “Buffy, I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks now. What’s up with you?”

The Slayer waved her hands, as though giving him the brush off. “Spike, look. I don’t know what you thought, but I’m really not into this right now.”

“Not into what?” he demanded. “We were doin’ just fine, luv. I don’t want to push. ‘m not askin’ for much. Friendship, patrol partners, whatever you want. Told you that. ‘s up to you. But I need to know what you want from me.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Buffy replied. “Look, Spike, I asked for an evening out as normal girl, and you more than came through. It was great, really, but it’s over. It was one night, and now it’s time to return to my regularly scheduled life, which doesn’t actually include vampires. Other than the slaying of.”

Spike stepped back, stunned. “Buffy, we were friends.”

She had shrugged, as though supremely unconcerned. “You just needed help getting over the hump. I think you’re fine on your own. I know I am.”

Spike had let her go after that. If it weren’t for the chip, he probably would have tried to tear her throat out right there. It would have been a fair response to her ripping his heart out, as far as he was concerned. He’d been at the bottom of a bottle for the last four days, trying to figure out what went wrong. Everything had been going so well; Buffy had been talking to him, they’d had a few laughs together, he knew she’d enjoyed their night out. So what had happened?

Rubbing a weary hand over his face, he levered himself out of his chair and stumbled over to the fridge, groaning when he realized that he didn’t have any blood. Spike hadn’t eaten for at least two days, and he was beginning to feel the effects. He’d lost track of things in the middle of trying to get drunk. It usually took copious amounts of alcohol, and he’d surpassed himself.

“Looking for this?” Spike turned to see Dawn standing the doorway to the kitchen, holding a brown paper sack. “I came by a while ago, but you were passed out. I figured you might want to eat.”

“What are you doin’ here?” Spike demanded shortly. “’s the middle of the day. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Hello? Summer? Have you heard of it? School was out a week ago. I was waiting for you to come back over, but when you didn’t show, I thought I’d come visit.”

When Spike continued to stare at her dumbly, Dawn repeated the eyeroll and pulled the plastic tub of blood out of the sack. Brushing past him, she stuck it in the microwave, set the timer, pulled it out when the buzzer went off, and handed it to him. “I think the booze turned your brains to mush,” Dawn said wisely. “Drink.”

Spike shook himself out of his daze and obediantly drank his dinner. He finished off the tub, he was that hungry, and then looked back over at Dawn. “What are you doin’ here, Niblet?” he asked. The alcohol was beginning to wear off, and his head was pounding, but he kept his tone gentle. Now that he was thinking again, he could see in the girl’s eyes that all was not right with her world.

Dawn shrugged in reply. “I just wanted to see you, y’know?” She wandered out to the living room. Spike had cleaned the place up, and the small living room had been furnished with a nice TV set, couch and chair. The floors were still dusty, but there were blankets arranged over the windows, and he’d almost managed to make them look like heavy drapes. “It could use some paint.”

“You want to help?” he asked. Sighing, he reached into the fridge for one of those fruit drinks he knew she liked so much. “Here.” He tossed her the bottle, impressed in spite of himself when she snatched it out of the air easily.

“Not so much,” Dawn replied, then adding a small, “Thanks.” She dropped onto the couch, and was unsurprised when he came over and plopped down beside her. “What happened?”

“Your sis decided she didn’t want me around anymore,” Spike replied honestly. He didn’t question why he might unburden himself to a teenager. He and Dawn had an understanding of sorts.

Dawn pouted. “So you couldn’t come visit me?”

Spike shrugged uncomfortably, realizing that he’d forgotten about the little sis while obsessing about the older one. Dawn, at least, wanted him around, needed him around, and wasn’t shy about saying so. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They sat in silence for a while, until Spike put a tentative arm around her shoulders and asked the question. “So what’s botherin’ you, Bit?”

Dawn sighed and relaxed against him. Spike was the best, really. He never treated her like a freak, and he was the best listener in the world. Plus, he was really, really good about taking her side and not telling her she was being stupid. “Everybody’s busy.”

Spike let the silence go, waiting for Dawn to fill him on the details. She finally continued. “Willow and Tara are both working this summer, and Giles and Anya are at the Magic Box all the time. Xander’s working really long hours, because summer’s when that happens for construction, and Buffy’s got a new job. Nobody’s ever around.” Dawn’s lip trembled. “I miss Mom.”

Spike pulled her to him, letting Dawn bury her face in his chest. “Oh, luv,” he murmured. “I miss her too. Let it out, Sweet Bit.”

She cried then. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to let go since the funeral. Everybody seemed to be trying to move on with their lives, but the summer had been her and her mom’s time. Joyce had spent as much time as possible with her younger daughter. They had rented movies, and she had let Dawn help in the gallery, looking at all the new pieces that were shipped in. They had had a book club, and had read together.

Dawn knew intellectually that this was really the first summer she’d been around, but somehow that only made it worse. She thought about all the memories of all the summers before this one, including the one where Buffy was in L.A. Every single one of those summers had been a lie, and she would never have a real one.

She woke in the morning to a mostly empty house, knowing that Buffy wouldn’t be around most of the day. She ate her meals by herself and watched as her sister ignored her existence, too caught up in her own life and misery to know that Dawn was dying by inches. Dawn hated it, but who was to say that Buffy wasn’t in the same boat, and was trying to keep up a strong front? Of course, when your sister would hardly look at you, it was impossible to say what she was up to.

The story, as well as the tears, came tumbling out onto Spike’s t-shirt-clad chest and sympathetic ears. He didn’t say anything for a long time, letting Dawn spill out all her troubles. “It’s just—it’s worse than it was right after the funeral, you know?” she said. “I mean, at least then I kind of understood, and it got better for a little while. Now, though, Buffy just says she has to work or go over bills. And if she’s not working she’s at the Bronze with the gang, and she never even talks to me. We weren’t ever best friends, but—”

Spike held her tightly and sighed. “You’re sister’s goin’ through a rough time right now, Bit. ‘m sure she’s just tryin’ to get everythin’ settled. Before, she had Glory and things to take her mind off it, but it’s harder for her now.”

Dawn shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t care, Spike.” She pulled away from his chest and stared at him. “I hate her. I hate her for not even caring where I am all day or what I’m doing. She loves her friends and slaying more than me.”

Spike didn’t bother trying to correct her, even though he knew it wasn’t true. He always hated it when people told him he wasn’t really feeling what he said he was feeling, and he wasn’t about to do the same to Dawn. Instead, he decided to see to the problem he could fix. “I’m around, luv,” he pointed out.

“Huh?” Dawn stared at him.

Spike was beginning to get more enthusiastic about the idea the more he thought about it. Even if Buffy didn’t want him around, he could still spend time with Dawn, and he truly enjoyed the girl’s company. It was like having a little sister, only better. He didn’t feel quite so guilty about corrupting Dawn. “If it’s gonna be you an’ me this summer, we’ll make the best of it, Bit. Can’t do much ‘bout goin’ out in the daylight, but in the house or after dark, I’m all yours.”

Dawn stared at him with great, shining eyes. “Really? You mean that?”

“Yeah, I mean that. Not puttin’ myself at your complete beck an’ call, mind you, but we’ll stick together, right? So what do you want to do?” When she didn’t respond right away, he rephrased the question. “Not that I can take her place, but what do you miss most about your mum bein’ gone?”

Dawn thought for a moment, and then replied, “The book club. We would read the same books and then talk about them. Buffy doesn’t read much, and not the same things, you know?”

Spike frowned thoughtfully. “How’s this then? You pick a book, an’ we’ll both read it an’ talk about it. An’ then I get to pick the book. We’ll switch off like that.”

Her face brightened. “Okay, that would be cool. As long as you don’t pick something that’s going to send Buffy through the roof if she sees it.”

“Give me a little credit, luv,” Spike admonished. “Not like I want to give your sister another excuse to stake me. What else?”

Dawn considered it for a moment, and then hesitantly said, “Well, I know we couldn’t go during the day, but maybe we could go to the beach? You know, after dark? It would be cool.”

Spike nodded slowly. “We’ll have to get the Slayer’s permission on that one, luv. Takin’ you anywhere in my car might not fly with her. But we’ll try it, yeah?”

“Do you ever think it might be nice to just leave?” Dawn asked wistfully. “Just pack it all up and go and not even worry about ever coming back?”

“You thinkin’ of leavin’?” Spike asked, sounding as casual as possible.

Dawn shrugged. “Not seriously. I just wish we could leave somedays, you know?”

“I know, Bit,” Spike said, echoing her sigh. The idea had appeal—to just go, not look back, do his best to forget about Buffy and Sunnydale and its Hellmouth. Leaving and taking Dawn with him even held its own lure. They could be road bums together, even though in his rational mind Spike knew that it was out of the question. There was no way he could ever take Dawn with him. Just like there was no way he’d ever be able to forget about the Slayer.

He glanced at the curtain, and both the level of light and his demon told him that it was past sundown. “Come on, Niblet. ‘s time you were home.” At her groan, he decided to sweeten the statement with a little bribe. “We’ll get ice cream on the way back, yeah?”

~~~~~

Buffy lay awake in her bed, with only herself to blame for her insomnia. Dawn’s glare when she’d arrived home that evening had not made Buffy’s day go any better. Long hours as a waitress were just not fun, but it paid some of the bills at least. Come September she’d have to make a decision about whether or not she could swing her classes, but that was months away and too much to think about just yet.

She was tired, bone-tired. In fact, Buffy was fairly certain that she’d never been this tired before in her entire life. No matter how much sleep she got, it didn’t seem to help. Going to bed early, sleeping in late, napping in the middle of the day: none of it made a difference. Exhaustion had seemed to settle into her very soul once Glory had been taken care of and finals were over.

It wasn’t Glory, or finals, or even her mom’s death that haunted her dreams at night, however. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Spike’s face as she told him she was better off on her own. Buffy had known she could be cruel, of course, but she’d never realized how calculating she could be, how easily she could cut out a man’s heart.

The worst part of it was that he made her happy. She had been more contented with Spike than she had been in a long time. Shutting him out of her life meant shutting out the best chance for happiness that she had right now. Every day that went by made her miss him more. And she knew, that if she had let him go patrolling with her, if she’d taken him up on any of his many offers of company, that he would have gladly stayed with her through any number of sleepless nights. He would have taken care of Dawn, without any complaint.

Hell, she already knew that Spike would willingly go to the sun and back for her, knowing it meant his death. This was, after all, Spike.

Buffy couldn’t blame him for his confusion. Their date had gone well. For a few hours, she’d been able to forget that she was the Slayer, that she was raising her sister by herself, that her mom was dead. For a few hours, the world had consisted of Spike and Buffy and no one else. And she’d been happy. Unbelievably happy.

Afterwards, at home again, she got to thinking. Everyone left. Her Dad had left, Angel had left, Parker (asshole that he was) had left, Riley had left. Now her mom was gone, through no desire of her own, and Buffy was tired of it all. She was tired of watching people she loved die, and tired of seeing their backs when they couldn’t take her and her life anymore.

Even Spike had nearly been killed for her twice, and Buffy was suddenly quite sure that one day she’d wake up and he’d be gone too. Maybe he’d leave like Angel had, for her own good. Or he’d leave like Riley had, because he didn’t think she loved him enough. Or maybe, knowing Spike, he’d leave like her mom: because he had no other choice.

Buffy had decided to nip the whole thing in the bud. Knowing that it was too late for him, that Spike already loved her and there was nothing she could do about it, she had decided to save her own heart for once. If she cut their relationship off quickly and cleanly it wouldn’t hurt that much. She might manage to survive it. She depended on him too much, she already cared about him too much. By letting it go on longer, she was dooming herself to intense heartbreak when he finally did leave.

Over would be better. Alone would be better. Less hurt that way.

What Buffy had never counted on was that losing Spike this way could make her this miserable. She missed him horribly. All she wanted to do was to go hunt him down and tell him she’d been a bitch, and wouldn’t he stick around for a while. The longer, the better, as far as she was concerned.

It was her pride that wouldn’t let her go to him, and perhaps it was his pride that wouldn’t let him make another attempt. Not that she could actually blame him. Dawn had made it a point to tell her how upset he was, and how stupid she was being. Buffy couldn’t blame her, but the raw anger, bordering on hate in her little sister’s eyes, made her wonder if it was worth it. Was shutting everybody out really worth it in the end?

A sob stuck in her throat, and Buffy turned over to bury her face in the pillow. She was so careful not to break down in front of anyone. She turned the water on and the radio up to cover the sound of her tears. She buried her face in sheets and blankets and down pillows to muffle her sobs. She was the Slayer, the strong one. Spike knew—if he were here, he would know. Buffy didn’t think she’d mind so much if he did.

“I promised myself I’d stay away.” The voice startled her out of her misery. For a moment, she thought perhaps she was dreaming, because he couldn’t be there, now, with her. Buffy had chased him away, and she was very, very good at that.

“I just walked the Bit home, an’ I thought I’d loiter a bit for a smoke, an’ I heard you up here.” Buffy didn’t dare roll over, fearing that if she did, he would disappear. “I’ll go, Buffy. I’ll stay away from you, but I won’t stay away from the Bit. Made her a promise, an’ I mean to keep it, but I’ll keep out of your way.”

“No.” It was no more than a whisper, but his supernatural hearing easily picked it up.

Spike took a step closer to the bed. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to promise her that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t find the words. “No, what, pet?” he asked, his tone gentler than he’d intended. “No, I can’t spend time with your sis, or no, don’t keep out of your way.” At the long pause that followed, he said softly, “I gotta know, Slayer.”

Buffy said nothing, didn’t move, her head buried childishly in her pillow. Spike was torn between diving out the window and leaving for good, and following his first inclination, which was to offer comfort. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, and was sitting on the side of her bed in two purposeful strides.

Ignoring any protests, though there really weren’t any, Spike rolled her over and pulled her into his arms. After a moment’s stiffness, Buffy collapsed bonelessly in his embrace. Spike could feel her shaking, and feel the tears soaking the front of his t-shirt for the second time that day. Buffy wasn’t making any noise, though. It was actually the lack of sound that frightened him more than anything else.

Spike ran a long-fingered hand down her hair, making soothing sounds that had no meaning. “Shh, luv. I’m right here.”

“But you’ll leave.” The words were choked, but understandable.

Spike frowned. “Hadn’t planned on it.”

“Everybody leaves.”

The smallest glimmer of understanding began to kindle in Spike’s brain. “I don’t.”

“But everybody does,” Buffy protested. “Mom left.”

“Oh, Buffy,” Spike whispered into her hair. “I know, luv, I know. But I’m not goin’ anywhere. Look at me.” He waited until she met his eyes. “How many times have you chased me out of town?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, which were still suspiciously misty. “A lot.”

“And how many times have I come back?”

“Every time.” Buffy voiced a protest. “But Mom didn’t mean to leave, and she did anyway. She died, Spike, and I know you wouldn’t mean to, but you’ve almost been killed twice.”

“Before you cared,” Spike pointed out. At her glare, he allowed, “It could happen, Buffy-luv.” He sighed unnecessarily. “You ever think what it might do to me to lose you? How many people have walked out on me before?” He let her consider that for a minute, and then continued, “We take risks every day, luv. You take risks every time you go out an’ slay, risks that are hard for me to watch you take. An’ maybe you’re right. Somethin’ will happen to me, but you can’t shut yourself off from the world.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “But maybe it’s better to just not care. It’s safer.”

“Safe isn’t living, Slayer,” Spike reminded her. “Safe means you shut yourself in a box an’ hope it doesn’t blow up on you.” He hesitated. “That why you pushed me away?”

She shrugged slightly. “I just got to thinking about it, and—and you make me happy. And I thought that if you left, I wouldn’t be happy anymore.”

Spike felt whatever reservations he had about being with her fade away at her words. He kissed her forehead gently, then her eyelids, tasting the residue of her tears. He pressed a kiss to her lips, feeling greatly daring. “You’re my chance at happiness too, Buffy. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

He paused, wondering how much he really wanted to tell her. They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk about what he’d experienced up on that wall. She knew the ramifications of the spell, of course, but not about its effect on him. “Slayer—Buffy, you know what that curse does to a person. The Watcher explained, yeah?”

Buffy nodded. “Him and Anya, but I don’t see—”

“’s more than just the suffering, pet. It’s about makin’ you relive your life as if nothin’ good ever happened to you.” Spike fiddled with the ends of Buffy’s hair where it lay over his hand. “Funny thing was, when you pulled me down, I didn’t see much of a difference.”

“Oh.” Buffy was quiet, thinking how she couldn’t have helped that impression much over the last weeks. She didn’t want to feel more guilty, but she was. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

“’s okay, luv. I understand.”

“No, it’s not okay. Dawn’s furious with me, and my friends probably aren’t real happy with me right now either.” Buffy felt another wave of loneliness wash over her again, but Spike’s tightened embrace kept her from feeling as though she were drowning.

He pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “We all grieve in our own ways.”

“How’d you get to be so smart?” she asked.

“Long years of practice, an’ lots of screw-ups.” He smiled when she gave him a weak chuckle, and then started to pull away. “I should let you sleep.”

“Stay, please,” Buffy replied, hanging onto his hand. “Spike, I don’t know how much I can give you right now. I’m so tired, I feel like I can hardly breathe, but—”

Spike rose and went to the window, shutting the blinds. He turned back to face her, and Buffy could hear the seriousness of his tone, although she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “I won’t ask you for anythin’ except that you don’t try and get rid of me again. Maybe try leanin’ on me a bit. ‘s all. I’m my own man. Don’t need you to take care of me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, though she knew that it wasn’t quite true. But she needed to believe him. She needed to believe that there was one person she didn’t have to take care of, who would take care of her. Riley had needed that too, she supposed, but he hadn’t been strong enough to stay, to wait her out. Spike had more than proven himself.

Spike didn’t leave.

Buffy felt the bed sink down as the vampire lowered himself onto the matress. There were the sounds of his duster, and then each of his boots in turn, hitting the floor. She felt him scooting up close to where she lay in the bed, his arms encircling her. For the first time in weeks, Buffy allowed herself to believe that it might be okay, even if she knew it was a lie.

Because things would never really be okay again.

Chapter 2: Dealing

Spike woke the following morning in unfamiliar surroundings to a delicious sense of warmth. His eyes blinked open slowly, and it was with some wonder that he realized he had an armful of Slayer. He pushed himself up slowly, quietly disentangling his limbs from hers.

Buffy stirred slightly and moaned as he pulled away, and Spike froze, waiting for her to settle back down into sleep, which she soon did. Noiseless as a cat, he padded barefoot across the carpet, slipping out of the room as silently as he had entered the night before.

“Spike?” Dawn’s incredulous voice met him as he stood in the hallway, running a hand through sleep-mussed hair. “What are you doing here?”

She stood in her pajamas, obviously thrown off by his presence. “I, uh—” Spike sighed. “Hung around last night an’ heard the Slayer. Decided to try an’ talk to her again.”

“Buffy asked you to stay?” Dawn asked, a smile lighting up her face. “Really?”

“Yeah, well, she’s been goin’ through a rough time, same as you.” Spike threw a cautious glance towards Buffy’s closed door, and then jerked his head towards the stairs.

Dawn, taking his hint, asked quietly, “So are you two together now?”

Spike shook his head. He wasn’t sure that anything had been decided, other than Buffy was feeling the need to protect herself through isolation. The vampire had the distinct feeling that she would probably try it again. Next time, however, he thought he might try more aggressive techniques. Like tying her up and spiriting her away; always a popular solution. Just knowing that he made her happy gave him hope. It was the crumb that he’d needed to continue sticking around for her.

“Dunno.” Spike shrugged, and to Dawn’s amazement, began to get the coffee ready. “Doesn’t matter, though. We still have our bargain, yeah? An’ I’ll be makin’ a regular nuisance of myself from now on.” He grinned at her, his blue eyes full of mischief. “Your sis’ll have to stake me to get rid of me from here on out.”

Dawn couldn’t help but smile back, and the expression felt odd on her face, like it didn’t quite belong there anymore. Seeing some of that in the girl’s eyes, Spike reached across the kitchen island to chuck her under the chin, a silent reminder to keep it up. “I’m glad you’re here, Spike.”

Spike’s expression gentled and became a little more somber. “Anytime, Sweet Bit.”

~~~~~

Buffy woke to the scent of coffee right under her nose. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, slowly realizing that she’d just slept better than she had in the last three weeks. When she finally managed to focus, she found Spike sitting relaxed on the edge of her bed with a steaming mug in his hand. “Morning.”

“G’morning,” she replied sleepily, pushing herself up and taking the mug from him. She took a sip, and sighed in contentment. “I’m an idiot.”

“Alright,” Spike agreed amiably, his expression growing even more smug at Buffy’s glare. “What?”

“You weren’t supposed to agree with me,” Buffy protested. “You were supposed to tell me that I’m not an idiot.”

Spike shrugged, his eyes dancing. “Thought I wasn’t s’posed to argue with you. You’re always right.”

Buffy opened her mouth to argue that no, she wasn’t always right, until she realized that it wasn’t what she wanted to say. He had neatly twisted her words and actions around to put her in between a rock and a hard place, and she had to smile. If she argued with him, she would never again be able to claim that she was never wrong. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to agree with her all the time either.

Seeing her smile, Spike took pity on her. “An’ why are you callin’ yourself an idiot, luv?”

“I spent the last three weeks being miserable, when I could have been waking up to room service,” Buffy finally replied.

Spike grinned. “Figured that out now, have you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Spike, I already admitted that I was—” Buffy cleared her throat. “—mistaken, but—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Buffy. Shut up.”

Surprisingly enough, she actually complied.

~~~~~

The warlock frowned with some alarm. He had made specific plans to ensure that that meddling vampire would be miserable for the rest of his unlife. He’d half-hoped the little bastard would dry up on that wall, or, if at all possible, that he’d kill himself as soon as someone pulled him down. Even better, that he’d go insane.

But no. The Slayer and her friends had to rescue him, and even befriend him. Lyndon should have known that he couldn’t trust this particular Slayer to do her job properly. He had, of course, heard of her history with the traitorous Angel. It was the curse on Angelus that had given him the idea for the carvings on his grand-Childe’s chest. The idea had been to create perpetual angst; what he hadn’t counted on was the vampire’s naturally sunny nature.

The creature was terribly optimistic, and while there had been satisfactory pain and anguish for a while, it was never enough. And now—

Now he was happy. He was actually happy. Even with the dreams, the memories, all it took was for that girl to smile at him, and his unlife was good. Or, at least it was good enough so that he could ignore the torment that the soul was supposed to be.

Lyndon sighed. He should have just killed Spike when he’d had the chance. He’d left the vampire on the wall with the understanding that he would be dust as soon as someone removed him. He’d wanted to be creative, however, and now he would have to remedy the situation.

It didn’t matter. If the Slayer was what made him happy, he would just have to get rid of the Slayer. Killing her, ending her infatuation with the vampire, either one would work. And when it was all done, when he’d caused Spike as much pain and torment as he possibly could, Lyndon would rip his heart right out of his chest and watch him crumble.

He smiled. He was going to have so much fun in Sunnydale.

~~~~~

Buffy came downstairs, adjusting her pony tail. It was just easier to wear her hair back while waiting tables, rather than have it in her face all day. Both Dawn and Spike looked up at her as she came into the living room. “Okay, I have to get to work. I’ll be home by six. Spike, you can stay here today if you don’t want to chance the daylight. But if you don’t stay, I really wouldn’t mind if you came on patrol with me. I could use the back-up.”

“Think I’ll just stay here with the Bit,” Spike replied easily, reaching over and tugging on Dawn’s hair.

Buffy looked both doubtful and touched at the same time. She hadn’t quite realized that Spike’s affection for her sister went so far as to have him spending the day with her. “Well, okay. Dawn, there should be food in the fridge. I left some money on the counter. If I’m not home by six, go ahead and order pizza for us.” She glared at her sister. “And no anchovies this time.”

“Anchovies are the best!” Dawn protested. At Buffy’s stern look, she muttered, “Fine, no anchovies.”

Buffy nodded. “Great. Okay, I’m off.”

“So what are we going to do today?” Dawn asked rather listlessly. Most of her friends were on vacation with their families, so her options were pretty much limited to Spike.

Spike shrugged. “What we do every day, Pinky.”

Dawn grinned at his reference. “Try and take over the world,” she finished the quote. “You watch cartoons.”

“When there’s nothin’ else on,” Spike said, trying to salvage his manly reputation. “’sides, I like Brain. Poor bugger’s plans never stand a chance.” He paused. “If I knew I was gonna be stuck here today, I’d have brought the Playstation.”

“You have a Playstation?” Dawn asked. “You stole it?”

“No!” Spike glared at her. “I’d never—” He stopped, then reconsidered. “Well, I would, actually, but I bought it off a kid who was getting a new somethin’ or other. He needed a bit of cash, an’ I wanted his gear. Worked out well enough.”

Dawn shrugged. “Unless you want to risk getting crispy, we’d probably better stay here, then. What else is there to do?”

“You get to pick the book first, Bit, so you tell me,” he suggested.

Dawn stared at him, then her eyes lit up as she realized that Spike was going to keep his promise. “Okay. Um, you haven’t read Harry Potter yet, have you?” she asked. “Because nobody else ever gets my references—except maybe Willow, but she and Tara are really busy, and—” she realized she was babbling. “You can start with the first one.”

Spike frowned. “Aren’t those kiddie books?”

“Are you suggesting I’m a kid?”

Spike wasn’t stupid. He knew there was a right answer to that question. “Let’s have it then.”

Dawn raced upstairs, and soon returned with a well-worn paperback. “It won’t take you very long,” she stated, plopping down on her end of the couch with a different book.

Almost in spite of himself, Spike soon found himself drawn into the story. Plucky bunch of kids, magic, adventures, it might have been Sunnydale in good old England. He sped through the book as quickly as Dawn suggested he would, and they were soon embroiled in a discussion about the various characters.

“’m just sayin’ he’s not that bad, yeah?” Spike said, disagreeing with Dawn’s firm hatred of Professor Snape. “Saved Harry, didn’t he?”

Dawn blinked, trying to find some argument with that. “He hates Harry!” she protested. “And he makes his life miserable.”

“So he’s a mean bastard,” Spike agreed. “Doesn’t necessarily make a person evil. You can be on the right side of things and not be pure as the driven snow. ‘s about bein’ gray, not just black an’ white. He get more evil as things go on?”

Dawn opened her mouth to argue again, and then stopped. Snape didn’t get more evil, but she hated to ruin things for him. She still didn’t like Snape, but she could see Spike’s point. She also could see what he was talking about. It wasn’t just about a character in a book, it was about real life too. Spike was also talking about himself, in a way. “I still don’t like him.”

“You shouldn’t.” Spike looked over at her. “Man would stab you in the back, given half a chance, but he’s on the right side of the fight. That’s what counts—the end of things. Which side a man’s on.”

“Or a vampire?” Dawn asked slyly.

He gave her a wink, appreciating her cheek. “Or a vampire.”

“Do you think you have a soul?” Dawn asked, coming out of nowhere.

Spike thought about it for a moment. It was something he pondered on sleepless days. “Dunno,” he finally confessed. “Saw the people I’d wronged, yeah? An’ I was in their shoes. S’pose—s’pose I understood finally, what it means to take somebody’s life.” There was a long pause, and then Spike said, “Soul’s bloody overrated, anyway. Plenty of people have a soul an’ still do nasty things to each other.”

“Do you think I have a soul?” Dawn asked.

“What makes you ask that, Bit?”

She shrugged. “I’m the Key, right? I look human, but do I have a soul?”

“Don’t think it matters,” Spike finally said. “What matters is the side you’re on, yeah?”

Dawn looked up at him from her spot on the floor. He was stretched out across the couch, looking a little sleepy, but still giving her his full attention. She realized she loved him. Not the love-love like he felt for Buffy, but the regular sort, like you had for friends and family. The kind you felt for anyone who would leave a really big hole in you if something happened to them. Dawn knew all about holes—she’d had to learn the hard way recently, but she thought Spike’s hole would be impossible to fill ever again. There would never be another person in the world who could be what Spike was to her, because what Spike was to her was unnameable. But in a good way.

“I love you.”

The words hung in the air, and in the silence that followed, Dawn refused to be ashamed of what she felt or what she had said. If the last few months had taught her anything at all, it was that nothing lasts forever.

“Love you.” His eventual reply sealed the deal. It might as well have been a blood pact.

~~~~~

“So what did you and Dawn do all day?” Buffy asked later that night. She couldn’t help but be a little curious about what Spike would find so mesmerizing about her sister that he would willingly spend the day with her.

Spike shrugged. He could hear the tinge of jealousy in her tone, though he was fairly certain it was because of time spent, not because she thought he had designs on Dawn. Please. He wasn’t into children. Not like some he could name…

“Read a bit, watched the telly, nothin’ too fascinatin’.” Spike turned to look at her. “Jealous?”

“Of Dawn?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Please. As if. I mean, she’s not even sixteen yet.” She got to thinking of when she’d met Angel, and added, “Besides, you’re not the type.”

“Type of what?”

“Type to cheat,” Buffy explained off-handedly.

Spike stopped and stared at her. “I wouldn’t be cheatin’.” At the Slayer’s scowl, he hastened to add, “An’ even if I was goin’ with someone else, it wouldn’t be Niblet. She’s like—like family. It’d be incest.”

He looked truly disgusted, and Buffy decided to let that part of the conversation go. “Okay, but what do you mean, it ‘wouldn’t be cheatin’?’” She did a horrible British accent, and Spike stifled a laugh.

“I’m not seein’ anybody,” he reminded her.

“But you’re in love with me.”

It was a statement, not a question, and her slightly imperious tone had him muttering under his breath, “Some days I have to wonder why.”

“What did you say?” Spike wouldn’t meet her eyes. Buffy finally sighed. “You’re technically right, Spike. It wouldn’t be cheating, since we aren’t dating.” There was a long pause, and she added softly, “But I think it might feel like cheating to both of us.”

He glanced over at her in surprise. Not wanting to push, happy just to have her admit it, Spike simply agreed. “Probably would at that.”

~~~~~

Lyndon held the handkerchief over his rather delicate nose. Mirok demons smelled like an open sewer as a rule, but these seemed to be especially fragrant specimens. “I want you to kill the Slayer,” he instructed them, ignoring their slavering grins. “Kill her friends too, if you like, and be sure to kill the vampire.”

“But—” He held up a hand in warning. “Be sure you kill the Slayer first. I want the vampire to see her die before his eyes. Do you understand?”

There were grunts and growls all around, and Lyndon took that as agreement. “Very well, children. Off you go.”

Chapter 3: When Life Throws You Lemons…

“What’s Spike doing here?” Xander asked his girlfriend. They were having a rather impromptu Scoobie meeting in the Magic Box. After three weeks of Spike not being around, Xander had gotten rather used to the idea that he wouldn’t be.

Anya gave him a look that said she thought he was being stupid. “Spike and Buffy made up.”

“Made up? There was making up that needed to be done?” Xander was confused. “I thought Spike was just the muscle. He shows up when we need help.”

Anya rolled her eyes and didn’t dignify that rather idiotic statement with a reply. Anyone with eyes could tell that the unresolved sexual tension between the Slayer and Vampire was about to light them both on fire. She just hoped that when that tension got resolved, Buffy would grace them with the details. Anya would be willing to bet all the money in the till that Spike was a guy who would give many pleasurable orgasms. “You are planning on paying for that eye of newt, aren’t you?” she suddenly asked, heading towards Willow, who was picking up supplies for a little magical experimentation.

“Yes, I’m going to pay,” Willow said. “I learned my lesson with Olaf.”

Anya shrugged, suddenly looking unconcerned. “Well, as long as you do. Taking without paying screws up my entire inventory.”

Willow glanced over at Spike and Buffy, who seemed to be holding an intimate conversation over by the bookshelves. Spike had his hand planted by her head and was leaning in to listen. Buffy, rather than trying to pull back, kept looking away and then at him again in that flirty way. She was also doing that thing with her mouth that guys liked. “I was beginning to get concerned that Buffy was never going to talk to anyone again.”

“You mean because she was deeply depressed over the death of her mother?” Anya asked in her typical blunt manner. At Willow’s surprised look, Anya said, “What? I’ve been reading about these things, since no one else wanted to talk about it.”

Willow shrugged. “I guess.” She looked over at Dawn, who had her nose buried in a book. “I mean, all of us are pretty busy this summer. I was just worried about her and Dawn. With Joyce being gone, nobody’s really looking after the littlest Summers.”

“Except for Spike,” Tara pointed out. She’d been listening into the conversation in her quiet way. She, too, had noticed Buffy’s tendency towards isolation, and understood it better than anyone else. Tara hadn’t missed the way that Spike looked at the younger girl, as though he were trying to figure out the best way to take care of her. And Dawn seemed a lot happier the last few days.

Willow frowned. “Spike’s looking after Dawn? Is Buffy okay with that? I mean, it’s not like Spike would hurt her, but he just seems—”

“An unlikely babysitter?” Tara suggested, filling in the blank. The three girls watched as Spike came over to sit next to Dawn, making some comment that had her smacking him on the arm with her book. Xander made another comment from his seat, which soon had he and Spike bickering, and whatever they were saying soon had Dawn in stitches.

“What are we watching?” Buffy asked, coming up to stand next to them at the counter.

Anya glanced at her. “We’re watching your boyfriend and Dawn. He’s making her laugh.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Buffy corrected her automatically, and then her face softened. “Spike does make her laugh, doesn’t he? I haven’t seen her do that for a while.”

“You either,” Willow observed. “Buffy, it’s okay if you like Spike. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that he makes you happy. It’s good—to be happy.”

Buffy smiled and then looked at the ground. “He does make me happy,” she confessed. “It’s just—we don’t know about the curse, or anything. And there are issues.”

“I think you should go for it.” Tara surprised all of them by putting in her two cents. “You don’t always get a lot of time, a-and sometimes unconventional relationships are okay.” She cast a loving look at Willow, who returned it with her own doe-eyes.

Buffy let out a little laugh. “At this point, I’m not sure me dating a vampire would be unconventional. More along the lines of history repeating itself.”

They all pondered that thought for a minute, and then Willow suggested, “Maybe you shouldn’t look at it like that. Besides, it’s not as if Spike has anything in common with Angel.” She paused. “Well, at least he can’t lose his soul.”

~~~~~

They had been patrolling for a couple hours when trouble struck. “What is that smell?” Buffy had her head up, scenting like a hound, and Spike turned to look. He caught a whiff of what the Slayer was smelling and just about gagged.

Spike stopped breathing. He had no desire to find out whether or not vampires could puke. Buffy turned to look back at Spike and found that he was just a little green. She wasn’t feeling so good herself. “What is that?”

The vampire shook his head. He had to breathe to talk, and he wasn’t about to take another breath of that stench. The large, nasty looking demons coming up behind the Slayer had him revising the plan. “Slayer! Behind you!”

Buffy turned to see a slavering dog-thing demon leaping at her. She didn’t even have a chance to pull out a stake before it was on top of her. “Spike!”

“Little busy here, luv,” he called. Buffy managed to roll, getting the demon underneath her, rather than on top. She spared a glance to see Spike struggling with his own demon, which had managed to sink its teeth into his duster. She decided he had it under control though; her demon was going for the throat, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

The demon rolled again, putting her on the bottom, but Buffy had managed to get a stake out of her jacket. She rammed it into its chest, just as she heard Spike call out, “Don’t stake it!” The reason behind his warning soon became obvious as the demon disintegrated, soaking through her jacket and shirt right down to the skin in a stinking mess.

Buffy rolled to her knees, emptying her stomach onto the grass of the cemetery. Spike, meanwhile, had dispatched his demon by breaking its neck, leaving it to dissolve a safer distance away. He’d managed not to get any on himself, but the stench emanating from the Slayer was overpowering. “You alright?”

“Does it look like I’m alright?” Buffy asked, trying hard not to breathe and not having much success. “I need to get home—shower.”

Spike shook his head, wanting to go to her, but not wanting to join the sick-fest. “Not gonna help, luv,” he warned her. “That stuff won’t come off with a little soap an’ water.”

“You couldn’t have warned me about that before I staked it?” she moaned, trying not to throw up again.

He took a hesitant step towards her. “I know something that might help. If you head home, I’ll meet you there with supplies.”

“Well, it had better work,” she warned him. “Because I do not want to be this smelly forever.”

~~~~~

Spike went to the all-night grocery store and stocked up on the necessary items, then headed over to Revello Drive. He knocked on the front door, only to have Dawn open it. “Where’s your sis?”

“Did you think I was really going to let her into the house?” she asked incredulously. “And have the whole place smelling like that? Please.”

Spike sighed. “So where is she?”

“Out back,” Dawn replied. “And I really hope you can help, because otherwise she’s going to be sleeping outside for a while.”

Spike brushed past her, giving her a doubtful look. “Well, ‘ve heard this will work, but I’ve never had to use it before, personally.”

“What is it?” Dawn asked, following him through the kitchen as he went out the back door.

“Lemon juice.”

“Lemon juice?” Dawn demanded. “You’re trying to cure the smell by opening a lemonade stand?”

He gave her a dirty look. “Lemon juice, not lemonade,” he corrected. Spike stepped outside, but didn’t see the Slayer. “Buffy? Luv? You out here?”

“Don’t come too close,” Buffy warned him. “Dawn already told me the stench was infiltrating the house.”

“’s bad,” he agreed. “Look, ‘ve got somethin’ that’ll help, but I’m not goin’ to be able to talk. Not unless you want to see what I had for my last meal.”

“Please no,” Buffy said reverently. “What is it?”

“Lemon juice. ‘ve heard it works for a lot of smells. Acid’ll pull it right out of your skin and hair.” Spike held up the grocery sack, full of bottles of lemon juice.

Buffy almost smiled. “You buy the store out?”

“Almost.” He hesitated. “I can go get Dawn or somethin’. You’ll have to strip out of those clothes, burn them. She can—”

“Dawn won’t come near me,” Buffy replied. “And I can’t exactly blame her.” She hesitated. “No, it’s—it’s okay. Business, right?”

Spike nodded stiffly. “Yeah, sure. Business.” He went over to the backdoor and yelled inside for Dawn to bring out an old towel and washcloth she wouldn’t mind burning later. She returned a few minutes later with a faded pink towel and avocado green washcloth.

“Good luck,” she muttered, shoving the items through the door quickly and shutting it again. Spike shook his head and turned towards Buffy.

She was pale enough that he could tell, even in the moonlight, and her face still had a faint green tinge. “Okay. So how are we doing this?” she asked.

“Do the hair first,” he replied. “But you’ll need to get rid of those clothes. An’ I’m not talkin’ while we do this. If I don’t talk, I don’t have to breathe.”

“Right. Maybe a little closer to the shadows? I don’t really want the neighbors calling the cops on me for indecent exposure.” Buffy managed to smile a little, and their eyes met for a long moment.

Spike’s mouth tipped upward in a lopsided smile. “Don’t think they can get you in your own backyard, pet. But ‘s not a bad idea.”

They moved closer to the house, where the shadows were deeper. Buffy looked into Spike’s face, looking for anything inappropriate, but found nothing but a sort of infinite patience in his expression. He would do anything for her, wait as long as he had to for her. It gave her the courage she needed to be bare before him, in so many different ways.

She nodded once in response to what she saw. Her movements deliberate, Buffy shook her hair down out of the clip that held it and then pulled her shirt over her head. She’d already taken the jacket off, and she pitched the shirt after it, into the darkness.

She could see Spike visibly swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He pulled a couple bottles of lemon juice out of his sack and motioned for Buffy to put her head down. He used two of the bottles of lemon juice on her hair, making sure that he got all of it saturated. Using a washcloth soaked in lemon juice, he tenderly wiped her face, then her neck.

They both froze as they tried to decide what to do next. It was Buffy who finally moved first, turning her back to him and unclasping her bra, allowing him to pour the lemon juice on her back. His movements were sure and gentle, firm and tender. It left her incredibly aroused, even if this was not the best time for it.

The cold shower would come later.

Spike handed her another bottle and the washcloth and then turned his back so she could do the rest. He tried not to look, resisting the temptation to turn around by thinking of the most unerotic things he could. It wasn’t working.

He’d need a cold shower later. Or something.

There was a soft, “I’m done,” from behind him, and he turned to find Buffy wrapped in a towel. “Spike, thanks. I think the smell’s actually fading.”

Spike took a cautious sniff, and although the stink was still present, it was centered on the clothes that lay in a pile off to the side. From the Slayer all he got was the overwhelming scent of lemons. “Glad to help. Hate to have to stay away from you for long enough to have that stink wear off.”

“Yeah, that would be bad. I think I’d probably end up living in the back yard.” There was an awkward silence, where both of them struggled with what to say. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you—do you want to stay? Tonight, I mean?”

Did he want to stay? Did birds have wings? (Did the Slayer really want him?) “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Buffy looked disappointed. “Oh. You’re probably right. I should—”

Spike let out a growl of frustration and then kissed her—deep, bruising, needy, letting her know exactly what it was that he wanted. “I don’t do halfway, Slayer,” he warned, when he finally broke it off.

“Neither do I,” she replied. The tension held, pulled between them like a trip-wire, ready to cause both of their lives to explode. They both felt it: the relationship they were thinking of embarking on was a dangerous one. They were mortal enemies; they were supposed to hate each other.

And they could both honestly say that hatred was the furthest thing from their minds.

Spike was the first to break eye contact, and he chuckled, looking away into the night. “You need to shower the rest of the lemon and demon goo off of you, luv. And I have a feeling you’re goin’ to be ready for sleep after that. Not what I had in mind.”

Buffy laughed ruefully. “You’re probably right about that,” she admitted. “My stomach’s still a little queasy anyway.”

Spike pulled her in, gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow sometime, yeah?”

“Sure.” Buffy watched him swagger off, and sighed. Definitely there was going to be a very cold shower.

~~~~~

Lyndon cursed, surprised at how handily the Slayer had taken care of his Miroks. For a girl who seemed curiously unable to kill vampires, she handled demons with finesse. Of course, the Miroks had been hampered by his instructions to kill the Slayer first, and not to kill the vampire.

The warlock frowned, considering his options. Maybe this was for the best. He could harry the Slayer and vampire, soften them up, until he was ready to make the move himself. She had friends and family that he could go after. Knowing Spike as he did, the threat against the Slayer’s loved ones would be just as effective as a threat to the girl herself.

He would send his demons after them. He would wait until the right moment, and then he would kill them all. With the Slayer gone, Sunnydale would be his, and the power of the Hellmouth would be at his fingertips. No longer would he have to be concerned about missing his opportunity to become like a god; Lyndon would use the power inherent in Sunnydale to rule this town, and eventually the world.

But first—first he would play.

Chapter 4: Dream a Little Dream

Buffy slipped into Spike’s house shortly before sunset. Giles had called a meeting to discuss the Mirok demons they had killed the previous night. The Slayer had wanted to wait until Spike could make it to the Magic Box for the meeting, and while her Watcher had sounded surprised at her request, he hadn’t objected.

She wasn’t quite sure what to feel about the vampire these days. Buffy most certainly had had no intention of falling for him, but plans could change pretty quickly in Sunnydale, and she found herself revising that idea. She didn’t think she was in love with him. Yet. And that was the key word, because her heart was rapidly becoming engaged in this relationship in a way that was of the non-friend variety. As much as she might like to leave their relationship on the “friend” level, she didn’t think it would be possible.

Buffy was just too darn attracted to him for one thing. When you started listing the pros and cons of a relationship with Spike, on the cons side was he’s a vampire, and he could be really annoying. On the pros side, however, were the facts that he made her laugh, he was a good listener, he loved her sister, he could take care of himself in a fight, and he was a hottie. Given her dating history, the vampire thing should have outweighed everything else, but Buffy could just not make herself care as much as she should.

She sighed as she looked around his living room, not having been there since before he’d started decorating. Dawn had told her it looked pretty nice, and Buffy had to admit that it did. Other than the generally dilapidated look, it really wasn’t too bad. It had a certain haunted house-esque charm, especially since she knew it wasn’t haunted.

Buffy was heading past the stairs and back into the kitchen to snoop a little further when she heard sounds from upstairs. Knowing that Spike had chosen the one bedroom that had a northern exposure, she headed up, concerned. She passed the doors to the two other bedrooms and the bathroom, and entered Spike’s without knocking.

She never had found out where he’d managed to dig up the bed he was using. He was smack dab in the middle of it, bare chested, and tangled in the blankets and sheets, tossing his head and moaning something. Hesitating for a moment, Buffy went to his side, calling quietly, so as not to startle him, “Spike. Spike, come on, it’s me. Wake up.”

When he didn’t come out of his dream right away, she reached over and touched his shoulder, finally grasping him more firmly in order to shake him out of it. When he finally woke, he did so with a gasp and a shudder, sitting up abruptly. For Buffy, who had no idea that vampires even dreamed, let alone had nightmares, it was something of a surprise. “Hey. You okay?”

Spike stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes unseeing, until he could finally focus and nod shakily. “Bad dream?” she asked. “You get those often?”

He managed to shrug. “Once in a while. Not as bad as it was at first.”

Buffy didn’t bother to ask what he was referring to, since she already knew. She reached out and rubbed circles on his back, as she might do for her sister or one of her friends. Of course, she didn’t get those little tinglies with anyone else. “I’ll be alright,” he said finally, closing his eyes in pleasure as she kept her hand on his back, bare skin to bare skin, warmth to coolness.

“Giles called a meeting,” she explained quietly. “We’re supposed to meet him at the Magic Box. It should be safe for you to leave pretty soon.”

“Where’s the Niblet?” he asked, his eyes still closed. Buffy’s hand seemed to be moving of its own volition, tracing patterns on his skin, though Spike wasn’t about to complain.

Buffy smiled. “Tara and Willow took her to the mall this afternoon. I had to work and she wanted to shop for a swimming suit. I think she said something about night swimming?”

Spike gave a little grunt. “Told her to ask you first.”

“And I already said yes,” Buffy replied. “In fact, I think I might go with you, since you’ll probably need the Slayer along.”

He opened his eyes to meet hers. “She needs you, luv.”

“I know,” she replied quietly. “I just—somedays it’s so overwhelming to think about everything, I was kind of blocking it out. I’m glad you can be there for her.”

“Then you don’t mind?” he asked.

“I should,” Buffy replied, “but no. I trust you to take care of her.”

Spike blinked, and she could tell that her words touched him. “Thank you, Slayer.”

Her hand left his back to trace his cheekbone. “Get dressed, Spike,” she advised him. “We’ve still got to make that meeting.”

~~~~~

He dressed quickly, and they left together for the meeting. Half jokingly, Spike offered his arm to Buffy, hardly thinking she’d take it. She laughed at his slight bow, however, and tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow as if it was the most natural thing on earth. She might have kept her hand there even as they entered the shop, regardless of the eyebrows she was sure to raise. Spike had other ideas, and he stepped ahead to gallantly open the door for her. Buffy was smiling more brightly than she had in a long time when she entered.

Willow and Tara exchanged looks. It was about time Buffy started smiling again. The Slayer had been miserable the last few weeks, and if being with Spike was what it took, then they had no problem with that. “Hey, Buffy. Hey, Spike,” Willow said brightly, even as Tara gave a little wave.

“Wait till you see my new suit,” Dawn said brightly. “It’s so cool. And it’s a two piece!”

Buffy looked at her friends, a little alarmed, but Willow gave a reassuring smile. “It’s really not bad, Buffy.”

Tara added. “It does look good. And it’s not too—you know.”

“Good,” Buffy stated. She gave Dawn a stern look. “Because you’re way too young to be looking like a swim suit model.”

“As if,” Dawn replied stiffly. “Like I’d really want to look like a big ho.”

Buffy gave an inner sigh of relief. Dawn hadn’t pushed her too hard on dress yet, but the Slayer could remember certain conversations with her mother all too well. Trying to explain to her younger sister that she couldn’t wear certain things was not something she was looking forward to. “So where’s Giles?”

“Right here,” he said, coming down the stairs from the loft. “I’ve been trying to find references to the demons the two of you ran into on patrol last night. Spike, you did say they were Miroks?”

Spike nodded. “Pretty sure. I’ve run into a couple before, an’ that’s not a smell you forget.”

“I would imagine not,” the Watcher replied. He raised an eyebrow as Xander and Anya came up from the storeroom, hastily straightening clothing and smoothing hair. “So nice of you to join us.”

Xander flushed an even deeper red. “Sorry, we, uh, couldn’t find that thing you sent us down for.”

Anya fluffed her hair in her usual straightforward manner. “The bin for the bindweed is empty. We’ll have to order more. Besides, Xander’s been so busy working, he hasn’t had time to give me nearly as many orgasms as usual.”

There was the usual pained silence that followed one of Anya’s announcements, along with Spike’s barely disguised snickers of amusement. The vampire still got a great deal of enjoyment out of Anya’s rather inappropriate comments; he always had.

Giles cleared his throat. “Yes, well, make a note of it, Anya, and we’ll get that order in tomorrow. Now, as for the demons you saw last night. Miroks are not typically found in well poulated areas. In fact, they’re scavengers. It’s odd that they would be here in town. If you were closer to the dump—”

“We were miles from the dump, Giles,” Buffy interjected. “If that’s the case, they were way out of their normal feeding grounds.”

Spike snorted. “Well, if they normally eat dead things they had one out of two right.”

There were some rather disgusted looks from the others at the table, and Giles gave him a reproving look. “Spike. It’s odd that they would attack the two of you. Buffy said they were going for the throat.”

“No,” Spike said. “’s not entirely true. They went for Buffy’s throat. Mirok that came after me worried at my coat a bit, but that was it.”

“So they were specifically after Buffy?” Willow asked. “Does that mean someone’s after the Slayer again?”

Xander looked alarmed. “Another apocalypse? Didn’t we just have one of those? Normally we get a break.”

“We don’t know that it’s an apocalypse,” Giles said reproachfully. “Though the odd behavior of the Mirok demons does seem to indicate something strange. If they were going specifically after Buffy for some reason, it would seem that the Slayer is a target.”

“The Slayer, or me,” Spike said quietly. “Anybody who knows me, would know the best way to get to me.”

Dawn frowned. “But who would want to go after you, Spike?”

“Try anybody I’ve pissed off in the last couple years,” he mumbled.

Willow looked concerned. “Do you think that’s a possibility? I know you’ve made a lot of enemies, helping us.”

Buffy shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense, Spike. There’s no reason they would go after me, just to get to you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Can’t you think of a reason, luv?”

The tone of his voice made it very obvious what that reason might be. It wasn’t news to anyone in the room except for Xander, who had willingly kept himself in the dark. “Okay, wait a minute,” he protested, holding up a hand. “What is he saying?”

The rest of the group ignored him, already knowing what Spike was trying to say. “Do you really think that’s the case?” Giles asked.

“Dunno,” Spike said quietly.

“There’s no way to know that.” To everyone’s surprise, it was Tara who spoke. She glanced away shyly as all eyes turned to her, and then looked over at Spike, sensing his distress. “Those demons could have been sent after Buffy.”

He gave her a grateful look, but shook his head slightly. “Best way to hurt me would be to go after the Slayer, or the Little Bit,” he said regretfully. “If that’s the case, maybe I should make myself scarce for a while. If ‘m not around—”

“No!” Dawn said, sounding betrayed. “Spike! You promised you’d stay!”

“Niblet—”

“You can’t go!”

“Dawn, I’m sure Spike only has your best interests in mind,” Giles said firmly, unsure of why exactly he was defending the vampire, but doing so anyway. He had some idea of what the offer to leave had cost him, and couldn’t help but feel a small spark of respect.

Dawn glared at Spike, unappeased. “You promised.”

“Dawnie, Spike isn’t going anywhere,” Buffy said firmly. “It doesn’t matter who the target is, because in the end it’s all the same. They’ll come after me, maybe they’ll come after Dawn, but what’s new?” She looked at Spike. “If you’re the target, and the best way to hurt you is to hurt us, they can do it with you here or with you gone. At least if you’re here, you can help defend us and yourself.”

Spike looked like he might argue, but fell silent. Xander was still trying to catch up. “Spike likes Buffy? As in, like-likes?”

Anya patted her boyfriend’s leg comfortingly. “I’ll tell you when we get home, honey.” To the group at large she explained, “He’s a little slow sometimes.”

Giles harrumphed. “I think we should all be on the look out,” he said. “Until we have a better idea of who is behind this and who the target is, I think it’s wise that we keep our wits about us and not go off half-cocked.” He looked specifically at Spike as he said this.

“Well, if that’s it, I still need to do a sweep, and I should get Dawn home,” Buffy said, standing. Her sister stood to follow her, and the Slayer looked over at Spike. “You coming?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know—” At her glare, he stood and followed her, looking rather more glum that was usual.

When the door shut behind them, Xander looked around the room. “Okay. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Maybe because you are,” Willow suggested, though enough under her breath that no one but Tara heard her.

Giles looked at the young man. “Relax. I’m sure Buffy knows what she’s doing.” It was too bad that he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as the rest of them.

~~~~~

Spike and Buffy trailed slightly behind Dawn, who was obviously still miffed. He was looking much more glum than he had on the way to the meeting, and Buffy had to wonder why Spike had jumped to the conclusion that he was the target so quickly. He could be arrogant, sure, but she didn’t think he was paranoid. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?” she asked softly, so that her sister wouldn’t overhear.

“Just seems strange, ‘s all,” he replied. “Last night that demon went for your throat, not mine. Wasn’t even tryin’ to bite me hardly. If you were the target, wouldn’t they have gone after you an’ anybody with you?”

It was a good question, though not one Buffy had an answer for. “Maybe. Who do you think it is?” When he didn’t answer right away, she asked a question that had been bothering her for a while. “Do you think that warlock would come back?”

“I dunno,” he replied. “I didn’t think he would, not at first, but ‘m not so sure now. I buggered him up but good, pet. ‘ve always wondered if he wouldn’t come back, if maybe he got bored, or—”

“Or decided his revenge wasn’t good enough?” she finished for him. “There’s no way to be sure, Spike. Not right now. And I can take care of myself.” Buffy smiled at him. “Actually, after that nightmare I walked in on today, it’s you I’m more concerned about.”

“I’ll be fine, Slayer,” he said, as they approached the house. “Look, why don’t you spend some time with the Niblet. I know she’d like that. ‘ll do the sweep for you.”

Buffy frowned. She wasn’t sure she wanted Spike off on his own, just in case he was the target, and whoever was behind this whole thing decided to go for his heart. On the other hand, Buffy couldn’t be with him all day, every day. “Be careful.”

“Will do,” he replied. He called after Dawn, who was waiting impatiently on the front steps for Buffy to unlock the door. Apparently, she’d forgotten her keys again. “G’night, Li’l Bit.”

Deliberately, she turned her back to him, and Spike winced. “I’ll talk to her,” Buffy said quietly. “And I’ll send her by tomorrow afternoon. It’s probably better if she’s staying with someone, and it might as well be you.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek, and Spike gave her a wistful smile before he strode away into the night.

Buffy unlocked the front door, and watched as Dawn quickly climbed the stairs. She sighed, wondering just when it was that talking to her younger sister had become so difficult. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Dawn, it was just that it took so much energy to deal with her. Buffy didn’t quite understand why Spike had such an easy time relating to her. Perhaps it was because half the time they both acted like they were the same age. Perhaps it was only that he seemed to have an infinite amount of fortitude when it concerned the Summers women.

She came to stand in the doorway of Dawn’s room and watched as her sister rearranged items on her dresser. “Whatcha doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dawn replied, her tone snippy.

Buffy sighed. “Dawn, don’t be angry at Spike.”

“Why not?” the younger girl demanded. “He promised he was going to stay. He said he would do a book club with me. He was reading the Harry Potter books so we could talk about them. We were supposed to go night swimming.”

“I know,” Buffy said, struggling for the words to say. She watched as Dawn sat down on her bed, and she sat next to her, remembering another time when they’d been in this position. No, a thousand other times. Dawn’s angry, and Buffy comforts her. But who comforts the comforter? It wasn’t a question Buffy had ever attempted to answer before this. Now, the answer was simple. Spike.

“Sometimes,” she began, “we have to do things to protect the people we love, even though we know it will hurt them for a little while. I know that Spike would do anything to protect you.”

“But he promised,” Dawn whispered, poised between a saddened understanding and betrayed anger.

Buffy sighed and pulled Dawn to her, so that her sister’s head rested on her shoulder. Dawn, in response, scooted in and allowed Buffy to stroke her hair soothingly. “I really think that it would hurt Spike just as much to leave as it would hurt you to see him go.”

“What about you?” Dawn asked. “Would it hurt you if he left?”

“Why do you think I asked him to stay?”

“It’s not fair,” Dawn finally muttered.

Buffy stroked, the movement soothing her as much as Dawn. “What isn’t fair, sweetie?”

“Everything. Life. Death.”

“Mom?” Buffy asked softly, already knowing the answer. They hadn’t spoken of Joyce’s death since the night Dawn had attempted the resurrection spell, and the Slayer wondered now if that hadn’t been a mistake.

Dawn turned her face into Buffy’s shoulder. “I miss her.”

“Me too, Dawnie.” Buffy blew out a breath, fighting tears. She wanted to be strong for Dawn, not quite realizing that it would be a relief for her sister to see her cry. A relief to know that she wasn’t the only person feeling as if she was half-crazy with grief. “I’m sorry I’m the Slayer. I know that makes it harder for you.”

“I’m not,” Dawn replied suddenly, sitting up and looking Buffy in the eyes. She could see that her older sister was on the verge of tears herself, and suddenly the last few weeks just fell away. “If you weren’t the Slayer, I wouldn’t know Spike probably. And I’m proud of you. You do important stuff. I just wish—”

“What?”

“I wish you would talk to me more,” Dawn said wistfully. “It’s like we always talked to Mom, but now that she’s not here, we don’t talk to anybody.”

“We talk to Spike,” Buffy said, with a small smile at the incongruity of that statement. “But you’re right. We should talk more.”

“Do you have to work so much?” Dawn asked plaintively. “I mean, couldn’t you be here more?”

Buffy shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to share any of this with Dawn, wanting to protect her from some of the realities the world was throwing at them. “We need the money, Dawnie. Mom’s insurance didn’t leave a lot left over after the hospital bills. If we’re careful—and if I work—we’ll be fine, but I can’t afford to slack.” Seeing the disappointed look on her sister’s face, and remembering what Spike had said about Dawn wanting to spend time with her, she said, “But why don’t we plan on spending at least one night a week together when I’m not working. We’ll rent those movies Mom used to watch all the time and make popcorn.”

“Okay,” Dawn said, sounding almost enthusiastic. “But can we invite Spike sometimes, too? I think he feels better when he’s around other people.”

Buffy nodded. Dawn was proving to be quite perceptive when she wanted to be, and she certainly didn’t mind having the blonde vampire around. He made things seem bearable, and it was for that reason that she could understand Dawn wanting to spend time with him. “I think you’re right. Moping is definitely not Spike’s style, but he’s been getting way too close to it these days.”

Dawn leaned her head down on Buffy’s leg. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dawnie.” Buffy was suddenly terribly grateful that there was another person who understood. Spike did his best, and his best was very good, but Dawn had lost her mother too. They understood each other, and there was joy in the understanding.

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