Chapter 9: Sorrow’s Own Joys

Lyndon had felt the shockwave coming right before it hit him, but not soon enough to do any good. The power-surge had actually knocked him unconscious, and when he woke several hours later, he still was too weak to do more than crawl into his make-shift bed.

It had been the witches; that he was sure of. He had felt a distinct womanly presence, plus a little taste of someone else who was unfamiliar. Lyndon cursed. They had completely broken his tie to the vampire. There was no way he could sense what his handiwork was doing now, no way to sense the emotional state of the creature.

He groaned. And now that the wards were up, he couldn’t renew his hold over Spike. The best time to do it would be while he was unconscious, and that would be while he was sleeping. Next time he actually got his hands on the meddling little son of a bitch, Spike wouldn’t be walking away. He’d be floating away on a good stiff breeze.

Lyndon began concentrating on the next stage of the plan. The witches. He had to get rid of the witches, first and foremost. That was most certainly his next step.

~~~~~

He ran. It was all he could think of to do, even though he had no idea if Buffy was still alive. He had never wanted to hurt her, never. (Well, not “never,” but certainly not in recent history.) Once he realized the chip was out, however, it was like his demon had taken control, as though he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Spike finally came to rest blocks, if not miles, away, panting unnecessarily, shaken to the core. What was he going to do now? What had he done? He had—he had—

He was still hungry.

Spike could feel the hunger, a gnawing at his very core, and he knew what it meant. He hadn’t had any blood since that morning, when he ate breakfast with Dawn. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and think logically, Spike took stock of exactly what had happened.

There had been the humans attacked in the alley, apparently by other humans. He had sprung into action, Buffy had warned him to stop, he had hit a human, and there had been no pain.

After that, everything got a little fuzzy. Buffy had been clutching a stake, that much he was sure of. And he did remember sinking his fangs into her throat—but he didn’t feel any different. Spike clearly remembered the last time he’d drank Slayer’s blood, and the power rush was absolutely incredible. If anything, he just felt sick and weak.

He pushed himself off the brick wall behind him, suddenly sure that he’d had another hallucination. Buffy had warned him that they could come up unexpectedly for a while. Spike still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, however. Even if Buffy had said she didn’t care if he had a soul or not, she was still hanging onto that stake pretty tightly. He was quite sure he hadn’t hallucinated that.

With a heavy heart, Spike set out for the Summers’ residence. Whatever Buffy was going to do, whatever she decided, he just wanted to know and get it over with.

~~~~~~

Buffy cursed as she watched Spike take off. Sticking the stake back in her pocket, she turned to chase the two love birds off home, giving them a stern warning about the dangers of walking through dark alleys. Then, she had to escort the two thugs off to the police station. By this point, Sunnydale’s finest barely questioned her. They went by the “don’t ask, don’t tell” philosophy, which seemed to be working for them.

After giving a brief statement, she left the police station, still mentally berating herself. The look on Spike’s face just before he took to his heels—he’d looked more horrified than she’d felt, and she was the one who pulled out her stake. After all that talk about how she cared, and how it didn’t matter if he had a soul or not, and Buffy had reached for a pointy wooden object at the first indication that the chip didn’t work anymore.

The Slayer thought about her reaction. That’s all it really had been. She had spent the last two years wondering what would happen if Spike’s chip ever stopped working, and she had known exactly how she would react.

Stake first, ask questions later.

Up to this point, it had seemed like a smart option, if only because she remembered what happened when Angel lost his soul. If she’d been able to follow that policy, a lot of lives would have been saved, and she might have spared herself a whole lot of grief. Even more recently, when Spike had started to help them with the whole Glory thing, Buffy hadn’t thought her reaction would be any different.

It was only recently that she’d been able to see Spike as anything other than the evil pain-in-her-ass and serious annoyance. She wouldn’t have had any trouble staking that Spike. But this Spike—the one who watched out for her sister, and held her while she cried, the one who sent flowers and poetry, who had sobbed in her arms—

Well, if she had thought killing Angel had been bad, killing Spike would be infinitely worse.

With a put-upon sigh, Buffy went off to look for him, thinking that she had probably scared him off for good. Really, pulling a stake on the vampire you loved was just the way to say you cared.

She went by Willy’s first, because it was on her way to Spike’s house. He was nowhere to be found in his house, so she went by his crypt. When she couldn’t find him at his crypt, Buffy swung by the Bronze, but he wasn’t there either.

At this point, the night was beginning to get very old, or the day was beginning to get very young. She really didn’t want to stop by his house again, on the off chance he’d made his way there after she’d stopped by. Nor did she want to simply go home without an opportunity to explain that grabbing a weapon had been reflex. A bad one, but certainly nothing more than that.

Buffy turned and decided to head home. She would just have to hope that Spike found his way to shelter before the sun came up, and that he would come to her when he could. Or, that he would let her explain things as soon as she caught up to him.

The Slayer was actually not terribly surprised when she approached her house, only to see the glow of a cigarette tip under what she’d begun to think of as Spike’s tree. She knew he was watching as she approached the house, waiting for her to say something, maybe.

Instead, they stood there in silence, both wondering what the other’s reaction really was, what they were hiding. “Why did you run?” Buffy asked.

“Why’d you grab a stake?” Spike replied, challenging her with the tilt of his chin and the hardness of his eyes.

It was a stand-off, neither one of them willing to back up. It had been a long time since Buffy had seen this side of the vampire; she’d almost forgotten who he was. He took her silence for a different sort of challenge than it was. “So we gonna fight now, Slayer?” Spike asked. “This how it’s gonna go down? You don’t trust me without the leash, so we’re gonna go at it?”

Buffy had a different sort of “going at it” in mind, but she wasn’t quite willing to back off. “I’m not going to fight you, Spike.”

“So that’s it then?” he asked bitterly. “Spike’s off his leash, an’ now he’s got to go?”

She stared at him. “Spike, you idiot, you have a soul! Are you planning on draining me the first chance you get?”

“No!” he replied angrily. “’Course not. I just—” Spike’s shoulders slumped, and Buffy watched the fight go out of him. “I had another flashback, luv. I—I could see m’self draining you.”

“And a part of you wanted it,” Buffy said knowingly.

He shrugged. “Not really, but yeah. Slayer’s blood is sweet, Buffy. I still remember the taste.”

Buffy took a step closer to him, knowing that he was being completely honest with her, more honest than she had any right to expect him to be. To be a vampire and tell the Slayer that you still wanted to taste her blood: it was akin to a death wish. “Then why don’t you take a bite?”

Spike took a step back from her. “What? Are you crazy, luv? You don’t offer somethin’ like that to a vampire. I don’t care if I do have a soul.”

She took another step towards him, making up the distance he’d created. “And if I told you I trusted you to stop?”

“This a game?”

“No games.”

There was silence as Spike stared at the vein in her neck, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. “I can’t.” He reached out and traced the thin blue line. “Not while these flashbacks are still threatenin’ to take control. I might not be able to stop.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “Then why don’t we try something else?”

He read what she meant in her eyes, in the way her heart sped up. “Are you sure? Dawn—”

“Married people with kids still have sex, and they manage to do it without damaging their children for life,” Buffy replied with a smile. “So we’ll just have to be quiet.”

Spike tried to read her, tried to read what she wanted from him. They had gone so quickly from being allies, back to enemies, back to allies and on to friends. And now they were moving to the next level, and he wasn’t sure his heart wasn’t being left in the dust. What did she want? Did she really want him? Did she just want someone who could understand her, or did she want someone who could help her hide from the world for a few hours?

Suddenly, Spike decided that it didn’t matter. He was hers—whether she wanted him or not. He would give her all, and count himself lucky. She was his bright goddess, and he would put himself on her altar.

Spike let her take him by the hand and lead him into the house. If he’d had a heartbeat, it would have been racing. If he’d had any breath, he wouldn’t have been able to catch it. When they stopped in front of Joyce’s bedroom, he gave her a questioning look.

“It’s not right next door to Dawn’s room,” Buffy explained quietly. “I’ve actually been planning on moving in here, but—” She stopped, composed herself. “I cleaned stuff out, boxed it up and put it in the basement. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to stay in here yet.”

“Whatever you want, Buffy,” Spike said quietly, letting her make the decision. “I can be quiet, if you need me to be.”

She shook her head. “This is—this is okay.” Buffy smiled. “Mom really liked you, you know. I think she liked you more than Angel or Riley.”

“She was a good woman,” he replied, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face. “Just like her daughter.”

Buffy opened the door, and stepped through, pulling Spike behind her. In some way, this felt like the ultimate sacrilege, sleeping with your boyfriend in your parent’s bed. In another way, this simply felt like an affirmation of life, as though she were really moving on. She had left her childhood sweetheart behind her last night. Tonight, she would leave any pretense of being a child. Tonight, she would pack away any hidden hopes of her mom coming back.

She would celebrate life, affirm it, with a dead man. The irony was not lost on her.

Once the door was closed behind them, they moved as one. The music of the ancient dance was something they both understood. They moved to the beat of the same drummer. Their tongues, their hands, both fought and soothed, dominated and submitted.

For Buffy, it was better than she felt she had any right to hope. Spike fit with her so perfectly, his coolness matching her heat in a pattern of yin and yang as ancient as the sea. His hands knew where to touch, where to tease. His lean frame seemed the best counterpoint to her own slender build.

Spike simply couldn’t believe his good fortune. He had dreamt of this moment for months, finally losing hope, only to get it back, only to lose it again. Now, she was here in his arms, saying his name, looking into his eyes, so that he was certain that she was here with him, and not imagining anyone else.

Clothing was strewn around the room in their haste to unwrap each other, like two kids on Christmas morning. They lost themselves in each other, and found themselves all over again.

~~~~~

Buffy snuggled back into Spike’s arms in the afterglow of their love making. It had been really, really nice. “You doin’ alright, luv?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yeah. More than alright,” the Slayer replied.

He nuzzled her neck. “So it was good.”

“It was good.”

“More than good?” Spike pushed.

Buffy pretended to think about it. “On a scale from one to ten, I’d give it an eight.”

“An eight?” Spike sounded hurt. “An eight? That’s bloody well all?” He was rapidly going from hurt to outraged. “That was the best I know I’ve ever had, an’ you give it an eight?”

She laughed. “Spike, you have to give yourself room for improvement. Next time, we’ll shoot for a ten.” At his growl, she added, “If it makes you feel any better, eight’s the best I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled suddenly, realizing that she was teasing. “This was the best night of my bloody unlife, Slayer.”

“It’s ranking up there for me too, Spike,” Buffy replied, more seriously.

He sighed happily, his grip on the Slayer tightening. “Never thought I’d be here,” he admitted. “Never really thought you’d want me.”

“Well, I never thought I’d be here either, but I’m glad I am,” Buffy replied. She turned in his grip to look at him. He lay stretched out, the sheet covering him from the waist down. He was beautiful, Buffy thought. With tender fingers, she traced the marks on his chest, now faint, white lines. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Buffy,” Spike said, a little surprised at her apology. “It’s worth it, just to be here now.”

“But you were hurt,” she said. “I hate that he hurt you.”

He shook his head, reaching up to trace her cheek with one finger. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Buffy asked. “And that nightmare I walked in on the other day? That doesn’t still hurt you?”

“I’m a vampire, luv,” he said. “I killed people. I feel guilty. ‘s right that I should.”

Buffy shook her head. “You still hurt, though.” She leaned down and kissed the marks on his chest, slowly, as though she could kiss him and make it better.

“I love you,” Spike whispered, sounding breathless as she ministered to him.

Buffy shook her head. “Why, Spike? What do you see when you look at me?”

“I see a girl so strong, she hasn’t yet reached her limits.” He did not ask her what she saw in him; Spike didn’t want to know. He still couldn’t understand why he was here, with her, and he didn’t want to try and explain it. He just wanted to revel in it.

“You want to know what I see?” Buffy asked, reading both the question and the fear in his blue eyes, so expressive. They were windows to his soul. It was cliché, but she’d never understood what it meant until now.

When he remained silent, Buffy continued. “I see a man who loves so deeply, he hasn’t yet reached his own depths.”

Spike felt a shuddering in his belly. In her eyes, he saw himself. “Buffy—”

“I see the man I’m falling in love with.”

There was only one way to reply to that. Spike made love to her again, not even caring that there were tears staining his cheeks.

~~~~~

It was very nearly sunrise when Spike reluctantly pulled away. “I should go, Buffy,” he whispered, as she slowly woke. “Sun’s almost up, an’ I can’t stay here forever.”

“You can stay here today,” she said.

He smiled. “Wish I could, but I should get back to my own place. ‘ve been here for days now. I’ll wear out my welcome.”

“Not going to happen,” she argued. “Spike, stay, please.”

“Luv—”

“I have this issue with guys leaving the morning after we’ve made love for the first time,” Buffy said. “So don’t leave.”

He sighed and crawled back into bed with her, not really unhappy that she’d won the argument. “I’d never leave you.”

“Good,” Buffy replied cheekily. “Because I’m getting used to having you around.”

Spike buried her face in her hair, and let himself drift off to sleep, hearing her parting words float past his ear. “Love you, Spike.”

Chapter 10: Collateral Damage

“Keep your left up, Bit,” Spike instructed patiently. “And you’ll want to watch the shoulders and the eyes. A good fighter will keep his eyes focused so his opponent doesn’t know what’s coming. But the shoulders will usually give it away.”

Dawn nodded determinedly. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Spike said. “We’re going to start slow, and then we’ll speed it up.”

Dawn had reminded him of his promise to show her a few moves, and Spike had been willing to comply. For the past few nights, he’d spent more time at the Summers’ home than his own place. Now that the chip wasn’t working, Spike wasn’t having any problems sparring with Dawn or Buffy, and he found training with both enjoyable, for completely different reasons.

He ran her through the basic defenses he’d taught her, Dawn blocking every move at half speed. “Good,” Spike complimented. “Very good, Bit. Now, we go full speed. You up for it?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, setting her jaw determinedly.

Although Spike went slower than his top speed, Dawn managed to block most of his punches. Any movements that got through, Spike managed to stop just short of contact. “You’ll want to watch that,” he warned her. “’s one thing to let me get a hit through, but a vampire will be a different story. You run into a vamp, your first job is to get away. Goal isn’t to keep him busy. You need to hurt him an’ run. Or stake him as quickly as possible, right through the heart.”

He stopped and pulled away, reaching in his pocket for a stake. “Here.”

Dawn stared at him. “Spike—I don’t want to stake you.”

“Don’t particularly want you to stake me,” he replied, amused. “If you even could. ‘s rubber, so it’ll be okay, luv.”

The girl lunged suddenly, and the rubber stake hit him right over his heart. “Point taken.” Spike reached out and stroked the side of her face. “Good to know you can hit the heart, Bit, just in case you ever have to.”

“I couldn’t, though, Spike,” Dawn replied. “I couldn’t kill you.”

Spike wanted to tell her that that kind of thinking could get her killed, that it would leave her open in the future. That, of course, if the worst happened, she would have to be ready to protect herself, even against him. But he didn’t. Even if the worst were to happen, and he were to come over all evil one morning, he didn’t think he could hurt Dawn. Not his Bit.

“’s alright, luv,” Spike said, reassuring her. “You won’t have to. Promise you that. Now—” He put up his hands again, signalling the beginning of the next session of sparring. “Let’s try that again, this time with you havin’ the stake in your hand. Remember, quicker is better, Niblet.”

~~~~~

“So how did she do?” Buffy asked. She and Spike were supposed to be patrolling, but in reality it was more like going for a stroll. Of course, she knew about her boyfriend’s training sessions with Dawn. Spike had informed her that he was going to be doing some sparring with her sister, but Buffy had pretended to be oblivious. She knew it gave Dawn a kick to think she was pulling one over on her, and Buffy didn’t mind. Just as long as she knew what was really going on.

“Good,” Spike replied. Buffy might be strolling, but he was keeping one ear cocked for any surprise attacks. Things had been pretty quiet the last few days, which told the vampire that the warlock was biding his time. He wanted to be ready. “She’s a natural, really. Takes after her sister.”

Buffy smiled. “Well, the monks did make her out of me, so that’s not too surprising. I’m glad you’re training her, Spike.”

He cocked his head, looking over at her. “Really? Gotta say, luv, I was a bit surprised when you told me to go ahead.”

“If Dawn had known how to protect herself a few months ago when the scabby hobbits came to grab her, she would have been better off. And you know I can’t be with her all the time.” Buffy sighed. “In fact, she was asking me if she could go to the Bronze with some of her friends the other day—without me anywhere nearby.”

“She’s growin’ up,” Spike agreed. “Won’t be long before it’s a boy she’s wantin’ to go with.” They exchanged a knowing look.

“As long as he has a heartbeat,” Buffy replied. “And if you have ‘the talk’ with him, I think we’ll be okay. Dating a vampire is all well and good if he’s you, but I’ve already staked my claim.”

He cast her a look that was half-amused, half-worried. “‘Staked?’ You sure you want to use that particular word, luv?”

Buffy laughed. “Bad word,” she agreed. Sighing, she looked around the cemetery. “This is ridiculous. It’s way too quiet tonight.”

“Makes me nervous,” Spike murmured. “From what the witches said, that spell might have hurt him pretty bad. He’ll want revenge for that.”

“If it didn’t kill him,” Buffy said hopefully. She made a face, “Not that my luck is ever really that good.” She sighed. “I suppose I should head home.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting a bit late. I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe we could run by your house first?” Buffy asked suggestively.

Spike looked surprised, and then he realized what she was talking about. “Tired of bein’ quiet already, luv?”

“Well, it does add a little challenge, but I’m thinking I’d like to try something new,” the Slayer said, her eyes sparkling. “Even if you do spend most of your time at my place, I think we should make sure to keep your house available.”

“Our own secret hideaway?” Spike asked with a smirk. “Sounds like a brilliant plan, pet.”

~~~~~

Tara and Willow were enjoying their walk in the moonlight. There was something to be said for being two of the most powerful witches in Sunnydale. That kind of power made it a lot easier to be out after dark safely, without having to rely on the Slayer as backup.

“You know,” Willow said thoughtfully as they walked. “It might be kind of nice to spend some time with the L.A. crew. Wesley’s really changed, and I’ll bet he knows a lot about the occult.”

Tara nodded. “I liked him. He was—nice.”

“He was,” Willow agreed. “You should have seen him when he first came to Sunnydale.” She giggled. “He screamed like a girl.”

Tara echoed her giggle. “Angel was interesting, too. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he’s a lot different than Spike, isn’t he?”

“I don’t think he could be more different if he tried,” Willow said, laughing.

Tara’s head suddenly shot up in alarm. “Willow? Do you—?”

Willow felt it at the same moment. There was a ripple, and she could sense the brewing of dark magicks. Grabbing her girlfriend’s hand, both witches braced themselves for what was coming, throwing up a mental shield. But it wasn’t a magical attack.

The five demons came out of nowhere, looking like something out of a nightmare, and that was saying something on the Hellmouth. Perfectly in tune with her girlfriend, Willow drew strength from Tara and threw out a fireball—to no effect. With a sinking feeling, both girls realized that the dark magic they had sensed was protecting the demons from their own attacks.

“I think it might be time to run,” Willow said, watching as the demons came to surround them.

“I think I like that plan,” Tara agreed.

It was easier said than done.

~~~~~

Buffy lay curled up next to her vampire. His bedroom window was open, and she could feel a light breeze coming through, cooling down the room slightly. It was hot, even for southern California in the summertime, and he didn’t have air conditioning, which was definitely a downer.

On the other hand, his skin was cool. Definitely a plus to dating a vampire in the summer.

Speaking of cool—Spike’s fingers were gently tracing patterns on the skin of her stomach, and Buffy rolled over to face him. “Mmm. That feels good.”

“I aim to please, luv,” he replied softly, moving his hand from her side to her face. “Like a dream, you bein’ here. Never thought this would happen.”

“It’s right up there on my ‘never in a million years’ list too,” she admitted. “This is definitely nice, though.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, I should really get home. I may have the day off tomorrow, but I need to run some errands and clean.” Buffy made a face. “Being a grown up sucks sometimes.”

“That it does,” he agreed. “You want some help?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You do household chores now?”

“’d do anythin’ for you, Buffy,” Spike replied softly. “’sides, have a house of my own, don’t I?”

“And it’s not a bad little house, either,” Buffy agreed, briefly snuggling back down into the crisp sheets on Spike’s bed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll be okay. I’ll put Dawn to work, and we’ll get it done in no time. If you want to come over in the evening though, that would be nice. I told Dawn we’d rent some movies and have ‘sister’ time.”

Spike looked skeptical. “If it’s bondin’ time, doesn’t that mean I’m not there, pet?”

“Dawn wanted you to be there,” Buffy replied. She gave him a quick kiss, and then climbed out of bed, pulling on her scattered clothing. “She’s gotten pretty attached to you, though I have no clue why.”

He gave her a mock-glare. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve got looks, charm, and an athletic build.”

Buffy laughed. “That you do. In spades, no less.” She leaned over to give him a good-bye kiss, which was rapidly getting heated. She might have been persuaded to stay just a little longer, but there was a banging on the door. “What—”

Spike scrambled out of bed, pulling a pair of jeans on quickly, and grabbing a t-shirt to throw on as he hurried down the stairs. “Dawn an’ the witches are the only ones who know where I am,” he told Buffy, a note of alarm in his voice.

The Slayer was right behind him when he opened to door to reveal a frantic Dawn and a worried looking Xander. For once, the young man was too anxious to make any snide remarks about Buffy’s location or their obvious extra-curricular activities. “Xander? Dawn? What’s going on?”

Xander shook his head. “It’s—it’s bad, Buffy. I called your house, but when Dawn said you hadn’t come home yet, we thought we’d check for you here.”

“What happened?” the Slayer demanded, not really noticing when Spike left her side to pull on his boots and find a jacket.

He seemed to be having trouble putting it into words. “Willow—they were attacked earlier tonight.”

“Willow?” Buffy asked. “Is she okay? Xander, what happened? Is she hurt?”

Xander shook his head. “Willow’s okay, I think. She said she got banged up a little. But Tara was with her. She’s at the hospital.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Buffy asked.

Xander shook his head in reply, looking hesitant. “The doctors aren’t sure. She—she lost a lot of blood. They—they don’t know if she’s going to wake up.”

Spike joined them in the doorway. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.

~~~~~

The four of them walked through the emergency room doors at a half-run. Giles, Anya, and Willow were already in the waiting room. “Willow,” Buffy said, coming over to give her friend a hug. The Slayer pulled back to assess her injuries. “Are you okay?”

Willow managed a shaky smile. “I think so. I’ve got some scratches and bruises, but Tara—Tara got the worst of it.” Her large hazel eyes filled. “Oh, Buffy, there was so much blood, and I couldn’t stop it.”

Buffy pulled the other girl back into a hug, glancing over at Spike, who was having a whispered conversation with Xander and Giles. “What are the doctors saying?”

Willow sniffed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “They think she’s going to be okay. There was a lot of blood loss, but they didn’t think there was any internal damage, and they think they got to her soon enough. It was too close, though.”

“I know,” Buffy replied softly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Willow hesitated, looking over at Spike. At the expression on her face, Buffy’s own gaze hardened. “Let me guess. It was the warlock.”

“I think so,” Willow admitted. “We could feel the dark magicks being used, but it wasn’t a magical attack. There were these demons, five of them, with big claws. I don’t—I can’t even tell you what they looked like. I just—I don’t know. The magic—the magic was protecting them from us doing any spells on them. We couldn’t stop them.”

“How did you manage to get away?”

Willow shook her head. “We broke the shield around them. Between the two of us, we managed to kill three of them, but then one got through and injured Tara. I killed the other two then. I don’t even know how I did it—I was just so angry.”

“Well, let’s be glad you got good and mad then,” Buffy said, striving for levity. “So what do we do now?”

“Now, we wait,” Giles said softly, coming over and giving Willow a hug. “I’m afraid that there really isn’t anything else we can do.”

Buffy nodded, hugging Dawn. She looked over at Spike, who was standing slightly apart from the group. She could read the guilt in his eyes; they were dark and bruised with it. “Spike—”

“’m goin’ to have a smoke,” he said, not meeting her eyes. Buffy watched him go helplessly, knowing there wasn’t anything she could say to make it better, or to make him believe that it wasn’t his fault.

Chapter 11: We’re Off to See the Wizard

Spike was on his third cigarette when the sun began to rise, sending thin threads of light into the morning sky. He was dangerously close to brooding, and he knew it, but he really didn’t care. He liked Tara—really, genuinely liked the witch. Like Joyce, she had always been kind, and he hated to think that she was hurting because of him.

“Spike?” He turned to see Willow looking at him in concern. “Shouldn’t you come in?” she asked, looking pointedly at the lightening sky.

The vampire took one last drag on his cigarette, and tossed it on the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. “Yeah. Guess I should.”

She grabbed his arm as he passed her to go inside. “It’s not your fault.”

“She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” Spike replied, his tone angry.

“Tara wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that warlock,” Willow corrected him. “And if you hadn’t stopped him from performing that ritual, we might not have been able to take him later on.”

Spike shook his head, unwilling to grant himself absolution, not when such a lovely girl as Tara lay in a hospital bed. Willow squeezed his arm to catch his attention again. “She’s going to be okay, Spike.”

He nodded, and followed her inside. Dawn came up to him immediately, wrapping her arms around his chest. Almost involuntarily, Spike returned her embrace. He met Buffy’s eyes, and she smiled at him reassuringly. Just then, the doctor came out into the waiting room. The older man glanced around, looking at the motley assortment of people, all waiting for word on Tara McClay.

“Willow Rosenberg?” Willow stepped forward, looking worried. “Your friend is awake and asking for you,” he said, smiling. “It looks like she’s going to be just fine.”

They all breathed sighs of relief as the doctor led the red-headed witch back to Tara’s room. Buffy came over to stand next to Spike and her sister, thinking of her own relief not that long ago, knowing that Spike was going to be just fine after being poisoned with the demon venom.

She reached over and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “It’s not your fault,” she said quietly, knowing that Willow had already told him the same thing.

Spike shook his head, again not quite accepting the softly spoken words as truth. He felt—maybe not quite guilty, but certainly responsible. He was the one who had upset the sorcerer’s plans, the one who was the real target. Willow and Tara were innocent bystanders who had tried to help him; they hadn’t deserved to get caught in the cross-fire.

Buffy gently tugged on his hand, encouraging him to follow her over to the chairs. “Come on. We’re going to wait for Willow to let us know what’s going on, and then we’re going to go home and sleep.”

“Think it would be better for me to go to my own place,” Spike replied.

Buffy looked concerned, but then apparently decided that she would let him make the call. “If that’s what you want.”

Willow came out a few minutes later, smiling. “Tara’s fine. A little sore, but she’s going to be okay.” She looked over at Spike. “She wants to see you.”

Spike looked startled, but then quickly stood. He felt a strange mixture of eagerness and reluctance: eager to see for himself that she was fine, reluctant to see the damage wrought. He knocked gently before entering. Tara was wearing a hospital gown, and had an IV line running to her hand, dripping its medication steadily. “Hey.”

“Hi, Spike,” she replied. “Sit.” She motioned with her free hand to the side of the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, he followed her lead. “It’s not your fault.”

Spike wouldn’t look at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bandages covering one of her forearms, and another bandage ran across her collarbone and under her gown. There was a darkening bruise across one cheek, and a scratch ran across her chin. “Spike.” Her voice was gentle, but terribly insistent.

“’m sorry, Glinda,” he murmured. Spike finally met her eyes, but there was the shadow of guilt there, maybe shame.

Tara shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” When he would have spoken, she interrupted him. “It’s not. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, but—” He sighed. “Can’t help but feel it’s my fault, luv. Warlock wouldn’t have come after the two of you, if he wasn’t after me.”

Tara smiled gently. “And the world might not be here today if you hadn’t stopped the ritual from taking place. You did a good thing, Spike.”

“Right, real good thing.” Spike sighed and reached over to brush a piece of hair out of Tara’s face. “You should probably get some rest, Glinda. Red’ll turn me into a toad ‘f I tire you out.”

“Not a toad,” Tara teased. “More like a big, fluffy puppy.”

He glared at her. “Hey! No use turnin’ me into somethin’ I am already.”

They both shared a smile. “You’re not fluffy.” Tara patted his hand. “You’re more like a well-trained Rottweiler.”

“Thanks, luv. That’s real kind of you to say.” There was a small sound behind them, and they both looked to see Willow in the doorway. “I should go.”

“Buffy’s going to take Dawn home,” Willow said quietly. “She wanted to know if you wanted to come home with her, Spike.”

He shook his head. “I’ll take the sewers to my house.”

“Okay,” Willow said cheefully. “Have a good sleep.”

“Sure thing,” Spike replied. But he wasn’t planning on getting any sleep. The warlock had hurt one of his friends, he had attacked his girlfriend, and he’d about driven him ‘round the bloody bend. He was ready to end this. Now.

~~~~~

Buffy went home and showered before collapsing into bed. She was exhausted, both by her and Spike’s evening activities as well as the emotional maelstrom of waiting in a hospital for news of Tara.

She and Dawn both slept well into the afternoon. It was nearing sunset when Willow showed up, looking distinctly cheery. “Tara pretty much made me leave,” she explained. “The doctor wants to keep her there overnight, but he said she could come home tomorrow.”

“That’s great, Will,” Buffy replied warmly. “I’m glad Tara’s going to be okay. I’ve been thinking about it, though, and I think we need to make an assault on this warlock. It was one thing when he was just sending demons our way to harrass us. Like that’s anything new. But sending something after you two…”

Willow nodded. “I think it had something to do with the magic we did the other night, when we broke his link to Spike. He would have known it was us from our signatures. And if he was spying on Spike, it wouldn’t have been that hard to find us.”

“You’re right,” Buffy said. “Willow, what do we know about this warlock? How powerful is he? I mean, could you take him?”

Willow wrinkled her nose. “Actually, we pretty much don’t know anything, but I think I could take him. We managed to break his link, but that was with the three of us. There was a lot more power.” She frowned. “On the other hand…”

“On the other hand, what?” Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. “I wasn’t really even trying. It was kind of like taking a beginning computer class for me, you know? Piece of cake. If I had to, I think I’d be a match.”

“But you can’t be sure,” Buffy finished, looking worried. She hated to think of getting in the middle of a battle and finding that out.

Willow smiled. “Well that depends. If I’ve got backup, it might be fine. You can’t really concentrate on doing magic if you’ve got someone sending sharp, pointy objects your way.”

“True,” Buffy replied. “I think between me and Spike, we can keep him busy. And with Xander, and maybe even Giles, to help, we might be able to distract him enough to kill him.”

Willow didn’t look unhappy about that last suggestion, though she did remind Buffy, “He is human, Buffy. Granted, not much of one, but he’s a person.”

“He stopped being a person the minute he tried to open the Hellmouth, or whatever.” Buffy replied. “I don’t care what he is, but he’s put himself outside the box.”

Willow jerked, her head spinning around to face the front door. “Will? What is it?”

“Something’s trying to come through the wards,” Willow said, her eyes narrowing. Buffy blinked as the pupil seemed to swallow up the rest of her eye, making both look black. “It’s not gonna happen.” There was a scary depth to her voice that took Buffy aback, until her friend turned to look at her again, her eyes back to normal and a smug smile on her face. “He’s not going to make it. He isn’t strong enough.”

Buffy smiled in response until another thought hit her. “What about Spike? If you’re not there to boost the ward-thingies, will they last?”

“I don’t know,” Willow admitted. “Are you going to go check on him?”

The Slayer hesitated, and then shook her head. “Not right now. I need to call Giles and set up somewhere safe for Dawn. With any luck, Spike will get here pretty quick. He was supposed to come over tonight.”

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Willow grinned. “Oh, yeah? Spill, Buff. Is it good?”

Buffy’s smile was both astonishingly content and mysterious at the same time. “You have no idea.”

~~~~~

Lyndon hadn’t thought it would be quite this easy to get his hands on Spike again. The wards that the witches had put up were strong, but they couldn’t protect the vampire while he was outside their influence. The idiot had actually come looking for him, thinking he could hurt him—Lyndon. It was utterly ridiculous.

Of course, the warlock was really okay with that.

With the vampire out of the way, it would be much easier to kill the Slayer and her friends. He’d already tried breaking through the wards on the Slayer’s house but had found it impossible to touch her. It didn’t really matter, though The Slayer seemed to be quite attached to the nuisance. His demise would bring a satisfying amount of grief and anguish, distracting her, and allowing him to launch a surprise attack she would be ill-equipped to handle. Lyndon liked that plan.

He turned back to Spike, who hung by his wrists from the wall of the cave. The warlock had decided to move his headquarters to a less populated area of town. The Slayer wouldn’t find out his location until he wanted her to, and he could take his time with his new toy.

Spike’s face was bloody from the beating he’d gotten from the Fyarls Lyndon had hired. They had broken his nose, and one of his eyes had already swollen shut. Lyndon had given serious thought to recasting the Blood of the Victims’ curse on the vampire, but had decided that it was an old trick, and he never used the same curse twice on the same person.

Instead, he’d chosen a different hex, one that called up the deepest, darkest fears in a person’s psyche. Spike was lost—and would stay lost—in his nightmares. The best thing about this particular curse was that it was tied to the person’s own mind, and nothing else. Unless the vampire could break himself out of it, he’d be trapped inside his head forever. Or until Lyndon turned him into dust.

With a flick of his wrist, the warlock tore open Spike’s shirt and reopened the scars on his chest, causing the blood to come pouring out. Whether because of the pain, or because of what he was seeing, Spike screamed aloud.

Lyndon smiled. It was music to his ears.

~~~~~

“Spike?” Buffy called, entering the front door of his house. “You here?” She reached over and flipped the switch a couple times, with no result.

“Uh, Buffy?” Willow said. “I don’t think Spike has electricity.”

Buffy shook her head absently. “He tapped into a line. The lights were working last night.”

“Good thing I didn’t know about that, then,” Willow said quietly, pulling out a flashlight. A second beam joined hers from Xander’s light.

“And I’ll join those who didn’t know about Spike’s pilfering abilities,” Xander said.

Their lights caught a flash of white against the dark fabric of the couch. Buffy went over and picked up the sheet of paper, folded over in half. Borrowing Willow’s flashlight for a moment, she skimmed the contents of the note.

Buffy—

Went to go find the bastard. It’s time I end this.

Spike

“Dammit, Spike,” Buffy hissed angrily. She couldn’t believe his nerve. When he hadn’t shown up an hour after sunset, Buffy had gotten worried, deciding that she should go look for him. They had already called Giles, who came over immediately after hearing that the wards on Buffy’s house had been tested.

After a rather long discussion, they had decided that Tara would be safe enough in the hospital, and with the wards up and Giles there, Dawn would be safe at the Summers’ house. Buffy’s Watcher was in agreement that the warlock needed to be stopped, and that until they could locate him, it would be better for all of them to stay in one place as much as possible.

Of course, that was assuming they could find Spike and get him home.

“Dammit,” Buffy repeated. “Willow, is there any way to find Spike? If he went out by himself, that warlock could have gotten his hands on him already.”

“I don’t know, Buff,” Xander said. “Surely Spike can take care of himself.”

“Xander, the warlock’s human. Spike wouldn’t be able to defend himself,” Willow reminded him.

Buffy winced. “Actually, Spike’s chip doesn’t work anymore.”

“What?” Xander demanded. “His chip doesn’t work? And you’re just letting him roam around free?”

Buffy glared at him. “Spike has changed, Xander. He has a soul.”

“And we all know how well that turned out last time,” he replied.

Willow stepped between them, trying to warn him off with her eyes. “Xander, now’s not the time.”

“Then when?” Xander asked. “When he goes evil and tries to kill us? Again? Have you already forgotten that Spike was the one who kidnapped us and was planning on killing us?”

“That was a long time ago,” Buffy protested. “And now that we have a warlock on the loose, trying to kill all of us, it’s so not the issue.”

“Then when we get done with all this, you’re going to forget all about him?” Xander replied. “You’ll finally figure out that vampires are for slaying, and dump the bleached evil undead?”

“I’m in love with him, Xander,” Buffy said quietly, but forcefully. “There will be no dumping. Besides, he’s changed.”

“He’s a vampire!” Xander protested.

Buffy stood up to him, nose to nose. “He’s my vampire.”

They seemed to be at a stalemate, since it wasn’t likely that Xander was going to back off on his “I hate vampires” invective any time soon. “Xander, I’m not talking about Angel, or about any other vampire right now. I’m talking about Spike. He’s different.”

Xander stared at her, and then swallowed hard. “Okay, Buffy. But when Spike goes all crazy and tries to kill everybody, I reserve full rights to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Fine,” Buffy replied, knowing very well that Spike was not going to do anything of the sort. On the other hand, if it made Xander feel more comfortable to be cynical about the whole thing, so be it. “Now, back to business. Willow? Finding Spike?”

Willow breathed a sigh of relief now that the storm seemed to have passed for the time being. “Maybe. We could try a locator spell, which will work only if the warlock doesn’t have Spike or if he isn’t shielding well enough.”

“That would tell us where Spike is if he’s wandering around, but he would have found me by now,” Buffy said. “I just have a feeling that it’s not the case.”

Willow frowned. “There’s another way, maybe. If he’s using magic on Spike, or if he tries to attack you again, we might be able to trace it, like the police can trace a phone call.”

“That’s assuming he tries something,” Buffy replied.

Xander cleared his throat. “Or if he’s using magic. After what he did to Spike the first time, do you think he’ll be content just to tie him up and wait for the cavalry?”

There was a long silence, and then Buffy looked over at Willow. “We have to find him, and we have to find him now.”

~~~~~

“You’re nothing to me.” Spike tried to stop the words echoing through his head, but he seemed to have no control over his own thoughts. It was like being crazy all over again, but worse. Again, there was some small part of his brain that understood the images he was seeing weren’t real, but it wasn’t the part that was in control.

That part kept hearing Buffy’s voice—“You’re nothing to me, you’re beneath me. How could you think I would love something like you?”

If he wasn’t hearing her words, he was seeing her dead body, lying next to Dawn’s, their throats ripped out by his own teeth. He would hear their screams and know that there was nothing he could do to help them. He would see Dawn, her throat cut by Doc’s blade, the wound gaping at him. Over and over again the images played—dead bodies, an alley with Buffy telling him he was beneath her.

He moaned, never knowing how close his tormentor stood.

Chapter 12: Blood of Life

Buffy paced behind Willow as the witch leaned over the map of Sunnydale, setting up the spell. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Willow?” Giles asked. “If the warlock should sense your presence, he could reverse the effect you’re attempting.”

“I know, Giles,” Willow muttered, leaning back, having finished the set up for the spell. “But we have to try.” She jerked her head toward the anxious Slayer, and Giles sighed. It was starting again. Buffy got a new boyfriend, boyfriend got into trouble, Buffy went a little crazy trying to save him.

“Buffy, I’m sure Spike will be fine,” Giles said, trying to reassure her.

Dawn looked up from her position in the armchair. “Are you going to be able to find him, Buffy?”

“Of course, Dawnie,” Buffy said firmly. “No one gets away with hurting my boyfriend.”

Willow began her chanting, and Buffy came to stand next to her sister. “It’s going to be fine,” she promised.

When she had spoken the words of the spell, Willow cast the dust over the map, and it fell in glittering fragments. There was a moment of stillness when Buffy was certain that it hadn’t worked, until all the dust motes literally shot to one location, glowing with a steady pulse.

“He’s there,” Willow said, satisfaction a thick coating over her words.

Buffy smiled, the ice in her expression matching the tone in Willow’s voice. “Then let’s do some damage.”

~~~~~

Lyndon was still having a grand old time watching Spike moan and mutter under the curse when he felt a prodding at his defenses. Frowning, he turned just in time to see the Slayer and two of her friends come strolling into his large cave. “You’re early,” he said, feeling a flash of alarm, and then dismissing it just as quickly. The boy might carry a crossbow, but it would do him no good, and the witch was alone.

“What can I say?” Buffy replied, a little smile on her lips. “I hate to be late.” She had to say she didn’t find the warlock very impressive. He was a small, mousy man, with no distinguishing characteristics at all. It would have been easy to ignore him in a crowd, except that he was dressed in long, black robes with all manner of silver symbols embroidered on the velvet. They were pretentious in the extreme.

“Have you come to save your precious vampire?” Buffy willed herself not to flinch at the sight of Spike. The warlock was looking entirely too smug for someone whose ass she was very shortly going to kick.

The Slayer’s eyes narrowed. “You know I’m going to kill you, right?” she asked conversationally. “I mean, it’s one thing to come after me, but nobody gets to mess with my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” the warlock responded, his tone oily. “Such an interesting word for a human to use for a vampire, especially if that human is the Slayer.” He shook his head. “Or maybe they should start calling you the ‘Vampire Layer.’”

“Okay, you know that joke was old the first time I heard it,” Buffy nearly snarled. “Can’t you people get some new puns? Really!”

The warlock shrugged. “Enough. I’m tired of this. I think it’s time we ended it.”

“I agree. I’ve been wanting to kick your ass for a while now,” Buffy replied, flexing her hands.

The warlock smiled. “No, my dear, I think it’s time for you to die.”

“You’re going to have to deal with us too,” Xander spoke up, stepping forward in what he hoped was a menacing manner.

“Oh?” The warlock flicked his fingers and the boy began to choke, suddenly unable to breathe.

Willow desperately murmured a counter-spell, hoping to loosen the magician’s grip on Xander’s throat. She was relatively successful, since her friend took a deep, gasping breath, but it was taking all of her strength to shield the three of them from magical attacks.

“Willow, get him out of here,” Buffy ordered.

Willow looked alarmed. “Buffy!”

“I’ll be fine,” the Slayer insisted, seeing the glint of madness in the warlock’s eyes. He was crazy, and he wasn’t afraid to die in his attempt to kill all of them. “Get Xander out of here.”

Willow did (mostly) as she was told, pulling the young man to the mouth of the cave, continuing to put up as much of a shield as she could manage. At least Buffy would have some protection from magical attacks.

“And now you’re alone, Slayer,” Lyndon said, smiling.

Buffy ignored him. “What did you do to Spike?”

“Isn’t it interesting?” the warlock glanced back at the vampire, admiring his handiwork. “I used a different curse, of course. There’s really no point in not engaging your creativity while you work. This one takes the worst fears and makes the person—or vampire, in this case—relive them over and over again. It’s been interesting to hear what his greatest fear might be. Did you know almost all of them center around you? Your rejection, your death, it doesn’t matter. Both seem to cause equal amounts of panic.”

“Let him go,” Buffy commanded. Now that the warlock had mentioned it, she could just make out Spike’s voice, asking that she not leave, begging her to wake up, calling out her name and Dawn’s.

Now Lyndon laughed heartily. “You don’t understand, my dear Slayer. It’s not my will that is keeping your vampire locked inside his mind; it’s his own weakness. Were he a stronger man, for lack of a better word, he could break himself out of this, but he’s delightfully insecure.”

Buffy took a step forward, and the warlock waved his hand again, causing the air to thicken around her so that she suddenly couldn’t move, nor could she breathe very well. “I had thought about killing you in front of him, but now I think I shall leave the vampire where he is. It’s just so immensely satisfying. After I open the Hellmouth, perhaps I shall display him on my wall.”

She struggled against the wall in front of her, feeling it give slightly, but not enough. Willow wasn’t having much success in breaking the warlock’s power, but then they had thought to attack him physically and with magic at the same time. Without anyone else to provide a distraction, Willow was left to fight the warlock from a distance with her will alone.

Buffy realized with a sinking feeling that she was stuck, and the warlock was looking more and more satisfied with himself. He pulled a gleaming knife out from his robe. “Say goodnight, Slayer.”

She did the only thing she could think of doing. “Spike! Spike, you have to fight this. I know you can. Wake up! I’m not going to leave you! I promise. But if you don’t get your ass in gear, this scumbag might end up killing me.”

Lyndon’s grin grew wider, the knife drew closer, and Spike still wasn’t moving.

~~~~~

At some point in the middle of the nightmare, Spike could hear the Slayer’s voice, separate from her words. He could see her face saying, “You’re beneath me,” in a dirty alley. At the same time, he could hear another echo, from another time and place, “I see the man I’m falling in love with.”

Spike wasn’t quite sure which was real—was the nice Buffy the right one, or was the cruel Buffy the right one? He heard snatches of conversation, just beyond him, like hearing people talking while you’re still half-asleep. Buffy’s voice seemed to reach his ears with a new clarity. “I’ve been wanting to kick your ass for a while now.”

The nightmares receded, and Spike focused on what was going on just past his awareness. He heard Buffy say his name, and then, “Let him go.”

She was here. She had to be here. The vampire could feel the manacles around his wrists, and he tugged hard, feeling them give slightly. He pulled harder, the muscles and skin on his arms and chest screaming in protest. The pain seemed to clear his mind further, and he could see the warlock standing in front of his Slayer, a knife in his hand. The nightmares threatened to overwhelm him again, and for a moment he was tempted to give in and quit fighting. Ignoring his own doubts and insecurities, he focused on Buffy and on getting to her in time.

The magician took another step towards Buffy, and Spike could hear her calling to him, urging him to break free. The resultant wave of panic that surged through him gave him strength. With one powerful yank, Spike pulled the chains out of the wall. The noise distracted the warlock, causing him to turn and face a very angry vampire. “Nobody messes with my girl,” he growled, and with one swift movement, Spike snapped his neck.

“Spike—” He heard Buffy’s voice, but it seemed to come from very far away, and he felt as though he were falling.

Spike knew no more.

~~~~~

Dawn poked her head into Buffy’s bedroom cautiously. It had been five days now, and Spike still wasn’t awake. Buffy and the others had come back from their mission carrying the vampire in grim silence. Willow and Xander had explained what happened, while Buffy cared for Spike’s various wounds. After more than a day of watching over an unconscious Spike, the Slayer had gone to Giles to see if he knew if the curse might still be in effect.

Giles had confessed to not knowing if he would ever wake up. The combination of curses that had been used on him in such a short period of time could potentially leave him comatose. Just the fact that he had been able to break free of the warlock’s control at all was something of a miracle, but he might have used all his resources for that one effort.

After three days, Buffy had no choice but to go back to work, leaving Dawn or one of the others to watch over the unconscious vampire. When she wasn’t at work, however, she could be found sitting by Spike’s side, staring at him, willing him to open his eyes. There really wasn’t much else she could do.

“How is he?” Dawn asked softly.

Buffy looked over at her sister, dark circles under her eyes. She’d tried to sleep, but it hadn’t come easy. “About the same. I keep thinking he’s going to open his eyes and tell me—I don’t know. Tell me he saved my life or something, gloat over it, you know. I’d give just about anything to hear him make one of his annoying comments right now.”

Dawn came over to stand by her sister, putting a hand on her shoulder. “He’s going to be okay, Buffy. I mean, when has Spike ever given up?”

Buffy tried for a smile and almost made it. “I know. That’s what I keep telling myself. Spike doesn’t leave, even when you want him to, so he’s got to be okay.”

“I know,” Dawn said. “I wish we had an antidote or something for whatever that scumbag did to Spike’s brain.”

“Me too,” Buffy said, and then stopped. The only vampire poison she knew of had an antidote—the blood of the Slayer. Slayer blood was supposed to be something of a cure-all for vampires, surely this time it would help. At least, it could hardly hurt.

“Dawn, could you do me a favor?” Buffy asked quietly.

Dawn looked over at her sister with a frown. “Sure, Buffy. What is it?”

“I want you to make sure no one comes in here for a while.” Buffy met her sister’s blue eyes, a level of seriousness in her gaze that Dawn rarely saw.

Dawn hesitated, and then nodded. “I’ll make sure.”

“Good.” Buffy gave her sister a hug, and then saw her to the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Turning back to the bed, she looked at Spike’s still figure. They had been feeding him by pouring blood down his throat at regular intervals. Not a fun process. For her plan to work, Buffy would just have to hope that Spike’s vampire instincts would take over when he smelled Slayer blood.

Buffy went to her weapons’ chest and pulled out a small dagger, testing the edge with her thumb. Coming back over to sit next to Spike, the Slayer took a deep breath and ran the blade over her wrist, watching the thin, red line well up. As gently as possible, Buffy forced his mouth open and placed the wound over his mouth, letting her blood drip.

For a long time, the Slayer was afraid that nothing was going to happen. Blood was filling his mouth, but there was no change in his face, and he wasn’t swallowing. Buffy ran a hand over his bruised cheek. “Come on, Spike. Please. Just drink.”

As if her encouragement was all he needed, Spike’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. Slowly, his face changed, the demon coming out, and Buffy could feel his fangs latching onto her wrist with almost exquisite pain.

Spike took several deep pulls before his eyes fluttered open, yellow meeting green. He disengaged almost immediately, his features melting back into his human face. “Buffy?”

“That’s right,” she replied softly, stroking his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Everythin’ hurts,” he complained, then frowned. “Did—did I—Buffy, ‘m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hush,” she commanded. “I wanted you to. You’ve been out for a few days, and I didn’t know how else to bring you back.”

Spike blinked, then said weakly, “You let me drink from you?” In his slightly fuzzy state, it seemed preposterous. It was the ultimate offering, and in the wake of the curse, constantly hearing Buffy’s voice saying, “You’re beneath me,” it was incredible. Too good to be true. And yet the aftertaste of her lingered.

“I think ‘encouraged’ is probably a better word there.” Buffy smiled. She could see his eyes clearing, and the bruising on his face, which had been slowly getting better, was now noticeably improved. “You’re better then? What happened?”

Sheepish was really the only word to describe the look on his face. “Thought I could get the drop on the bugger and kill him. I hadn’t gone but ten feet out my door an’ he got the drop on me. Don’t remember much else. Woke up briefly in that cave before he put the whammy on me. An’ then I—I heard you sayin’ you were fallin’ in love with me, and I guess I just broke myself out of it.”

Buffy smiled smugly. “And that idiot thought you were weak. As if.” The humor left her face and she fixed him with a glare. “But Spike, if you ever, ever pull anything like that again, I will personally stake your ass.”

He gave her an apologetic smile. Spike had meant to bring her the warlock’s head on a platter, not have her rescue him from torture and certain death. “I really am sorry, luv. Never wanted to worry you, just wanted to put a stop to his comin’ after us.”

“I know,” she said. “And since you didn’t die—again—I’m going to let it go.” Buffy laid down next to him, grabbing one of his hands since there wasn’t a non-tender spot on his chest she could fling an arm over. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he assured her. Sleep was now far away, which made sense as he’d been unconscious for a while now. “’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Buffy snuggled next to him. “I’ve been thinking,” she said sleepily.

“Hard work?”

“Stop it!” she said, resisting the urge to slap him. “I was thinking that it might be nice if you were here. A lot more.”

“I already am here,” Spike said. “And I’m here a lot, actually.”

Buffy laughed. “No, I mean it would be nice if you were here all the time. It would be good if you kept your house, of course, for when we wanted to be alone.”

Spike frowned. “You mean, comin’ to live here?”

“Yeah. You could have a drawer and everything.” Buffy’s eyes drooped slightly. “I don’t know, Spike. I’ve lost so many people that I love, either because they leave me or because they die. At first I thought I could run away from it, but now I just want to make the most of what I do have.”

“And that includes me does it?” Spike was still having some trouble with this scene. Mere days ago, the Slayer had been avoiding him like the plague, and now she wanted him to come and live with her?

“Doesn’t it?” Buffy asked. She roused herself enough to kiss him, proving to him with her actions that she meant what she said.

Spike pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes, trying to see the truth behind her words. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” Buffy said quietly, seeing the uncertainty in his face. “But I’d like to have you around.”

He considered it for a moment. “Tell you what, luv,” he finally said. “I’ll take you up on that offer of a drawer, but we’ll play the rest of it by ear. See what happens. Might not be what you want.”

Buffy smiled, and rolled her eyes. “Spike, you are what I want.” She yawned widely. “But right now, I think I want to sleep.”

“Then sleep, luv,” he replied. “’m goin’ to be right here.”

Spike watched as she dozed off, thinking about what he wanted for her, and for them. Thinking about what it would mean to live under the Slayer’s roof, to be with Dawn. To be a family. He realized that his worst fears had gone unrealized, that they had been dispelled with Buffy’s words, and her offer, even though he didn’t think he would take her up on it just yet. Not yet, but soon.

Spike thought back to the beginning of all of it, to the depths of despair that he had walked, and he knew it wasn’t over. There would continue to be adjustments, and sadness, and fear. It was inevitable; it was a part of life. And it was all worth it.

He ran a hand over Buffy’s hair, and whispered, “Losing through you what seemed myself, I find selves unimaginably mine; beyond sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: yours is the darkness of my soul’s return—you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”