Author: efa

Title: Wake-Up Call (yeah - suckie title)

Spoilers: "The Weight of the World" - episode 99 from season 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the computer I type with

Comments: James Marsters is the finest man in the world! Ok, I'm done.

It was bad. Really bad. Glory had Dawn, and the Scoobies didn't know what to do. Buffy had gone completely catatonic, and nothing seemed to help. Willow had tried to do some sort of mind to mind communication, but all she got for her trouble was a blinding headache and a feeling of being completely drained. No one knew what to do. Finally, nighttime rolled around, and everyone just decided to go home.

Except Spike, of course. He stayed with her, despite much protest from Xander about leaving Buffy alone and defenseless with the "chipped wonder and his creepy obsession." Minutes passed as Spike sat, cross-legged, staring into Buffy's unblinking, unseeing eyes. What to do? What to do? Spike sighed. "God, I hope this works."

Thrall. It was most often used to control a victim. Most vampires had the ability, though few had the desire to cultivate it. Spike couldn't say thrall had ever been a big deal to him, but he'd lived with Drusilla for a century. You pick up a few things. The scoobs shouldn't get too pissed off with him. All he meant by it was a sort of mental link, maybe like Red had been trying to achieve. Spike doubted trying to control a person who was completely insensate would work anyway.

"Look into my eyes.be in me."

Suddenly he was standing across from Buffy at the Summers' residence during late morning. Sunlight was pouring on to him through a window. She too was standing, and turned too look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get you to wake up, luv. They need you out there. The bit needs you."

She stared at him blankly, and then turned to walk into a bedroom. God, this is weird, Spike thought. Trotting around in the Slayer's head. It was about to get weirder, as she went over to Dawn, who was sitting on a bed, and began to strangle her. Spike's naturally deep voice took on an unpleasantly high-pitched frantic note as he shouted, "Buffy, stop!" She continued. Spike screamed more, finally making to grab her arms. Buffy threw him off her and into a wall, finally releasing Dawn, and suddenly, the two stood alone in an empty gray room.

And Buffy was pissed. "I can't help them Spike. What do you want from me? I can't help them? Everything I touch, it just dies in my hands!" She sobbed the last words.

"Buffy, you're wrong. None of this is your fault, and you can help them. Don't say you can't save them. You've done it hundreds of times before. You just have to believe you can."

"Why?"

"Well, because I believe you can."

"Spike, what are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to help you."

The despairing edge left her voice, leaving nothing but rage. "Help me? By digging around in my head?"

"Slayer, you have to -"

"I don't have to do anything, Spike. I just want you to GO AWAY."

"Slayer -"

"Lets see how you like me snooping around in your brain, Spike."

A door opened in the gray room. It was nighttime outside, and the two stood at the doorstep of Spike's crypt. Buffy slammed the door open, to be greeted with the sight of Drusilla, dancing in an empty London street at about thirty yards away. Buffy turned, Spike following like a faithful puppy behind her, and opened the door to a shop.

The scene changed again. They were in a ballroom, the floor littered with dead bodies. Buffy turned to Spike, a sickened espression on her face. She waved her arm over the floor, in an encompassing gesture, and whispered, "You're a demon, Spike. How could you ever love me?"

She turned to leave, but found herself before a shrine - one apparently dedicated to her. "This is sick, Spike," she hissed, before grasping a photo of herself and tearing it to pieces. She dimly heard a yelled "No!" but ignored it, grasping another photograph, and destroying it too. She growled out with more rancor, "This is sick, Spike," and worked on destroying the rest of the altar. Spike's initial flinch turned to cringing and whimpering the more that she destroyed. Finally, the entire manifestation was laid to waste, and the figure of Spike was curled into a fetal position on the ground.

"Please Slayer. Buffy. You're hurting me." She stared down at him, then turned to a box which sat amid the rubble. It was a gift in black wrapping paper, tied with a black ribbon, a red tag saying 'for Buffy' affixed to the top. "Please, Buffy," she heard again, as she pulled the string and lifted the lid.

And she felt it. It crashed over her in waves, dark and morbid, light and free, crushingly heavy, yet somehow weightless. Love. The hopeless, helpless kind. The bitter kind. The unashamed, unrepentant kind. It was so painful, so wrong, so beautiful, so pure. And all of it was 'for Buffy.' She felt drained of strength and fell to her knees. After moments of gasping, she crouched down and put her forehead to the abused vampire's. "I'm so -"

***************************************************************************

She snapped awake. "- sorry." She came to herself and found Spike still sitting cross-legged before her. His eyes were screwed shut, and a trickle of blood ran from his nose. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She repeated the litany, rocking back and forth, and weeping.

Spike opened his eyes. A weak smile appeared on his face. "You're awake," he choked out, and collapsed foreward into her arms.

Part 2:

Xander walked in early the next morning to find Buffy and Spike still slumped in each other's arms, and fast asleep. *What the hell?* Xander thought. "Spike, what do you think you're doing?!"

Buffy woke with a start and, immediately seeing her visitor, said, "Xander, it's okay." She gently rolled Spike off of her to lay on his back.

"Buff, you're awake!"

"Yeah. Spike did this telepathy thinga-ma-jig."

"Like Wills was trying to do?"

"Huh?"

"Willow was going to try to do some witchy mind meld."

"Um, I guess. How long was I...gone?"

"Yesterday. Pretty much all of yesterday."

Giles and Willow burst through the door. "Oh, good," Giles smiled, "You're awake."

Willow grinned tentatively, and approached Buffy like she were a very fragile piece of glass. "Hey, Buffy. Did you just wake up on your own? Cause I was worried that you might not and I tried to help you with magic, but it didn't really work. But you're awake now, and that's good, yeah, cause we need your help finding Dawn. Not right, right now or anything. No pressure. Hey, is Spike's nose bleeding?"

Xander turned and noticed this as well. "Hey, his nose is bleeding. That means that what he did was dangerous, right - cause his nose is bleeding and that just can't mean good things for you."

Buffy smiled soothingly. "I'm fine, Xander." Her look turned shameful. "He was in my head, and then I was in his head, and I kind of...trashed things there. Just leave him alone now, okay. I think he's put himself through enough mental raping for one night."

An awkward silence followed. Anya broke it as she walked in. "Hey Buffy, you're up. You're probably hungry, right. You didn't eat anything yesterday." Soft exclamations of, "Oh, yes - food," came from the other people in the room and soon everyone was filing out the door and towards the kitchen.

***************************************************************************

Buffy grabbed her keys as they entered the kitchen. "Guys, I'm gonna stop and get some blood for Spike when he wakes up."

Giles nodded at her. "Oh yes, very good Buffy." She disappeared out the door. "So," said Willow, "Spike snapped her out of it?"

"Yeah," Xander whispered heavily.

"I wonder how he did it?"

The three ate in silence. Buffy returned a short while later, put a paper bag in the refrigerator, and sat down to join the Scoobies for breakfast. "So, what have we got on Dawn."

Giles spoke up with a very businesslike tone. "Xander and Spike discovered the ritual text. Apparently Glory intends to do a bloodletting to open the portal. It only closes back if the blood stops. Once the portal opens, the only way to close it is to...is to..."

"Kill Dawn? You want me to kill my sister? No."

"Buffy -"

"No. I'm gonna go check on Spike."

***************************************************************************

She went to the bathroom to moisten a tissue, and returned to where Spike lay on the bed and began to gently wash the trickle of dried blood from his face. His eyes fluttered open under her ministrations. "Are you okay?" She murmured, staring into his eyes for some confirmation of her statement, gently trailing her hand in a caress down the side of his face.

"Feeling a bit raw is all. Had a load of mental shielding done away with."

"I'm sorry." The words came out as barely a whisper.

"I know," he replied. "Don't be. We've both weathered much worse."

"Giles read the ritual. Glory's gonna bleed her Spike. And once she starts' the only way to stop it is to -" Buffy broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Well then, we just won't let her start, now will we."

The two exchanged tremulous smiles. Spike pushed himself laboriously up from the bed. "I got you some blood. Vampire breakfast of champions. It's human, I think."

"Really? Wish you felt guilty more often."

Buffy smacked him lightly in the arm as they walked together back to the kitchen.

She went straight towards the fridge and pulled out a sealed plastic container. She took a plain mug from a cupboard and poured it in, and then set it in the microwave. While she was occupied, Willow took the opportunity to corner Spike.

"So, how'd you do it?" At his blank expression she added, "Snap Buffy out of it."

"Oh. Um, it was a kind of thrall."

Now Willow looked confused, and Xander looked like he was about to get violent. He'd had some very bad experiences with thrall.

Spike quickly clarified. "Not trying to control her or anything - just make a sort of mental link. Something I picked up from Dru. She was a dozy bint, but she knew her stuff."

"Oh," Willow said. "Hey, are you alright, because you looked kind of not so much."

Spike looked to her in surprise - a Scooby being nice to him? "Yeah Red. Peaches n' cream. Well, without the Peaches."

Xander chuckled weakly.

~tbc~

Part 3:

They knew where the ritual was to occur. They gathered in the Magic Box to discuss their game plan. Anya had made a brilliant suggestion with the troll hammer, and Buffy had gone with Spike back to the house to gather extra weaponry. "You're sure you're all right, right? I didn't permanently damage you?"

"*Yes,* luv. What you damaged wasn't exactly vital. Don't worry, I'll still be able to help out."

"It was, what, mental shielding? I saw what it was shielding. I *felt* it."

"So you think I can't bear the burden of loving you? I admit it was easier just idolizing you, dedicating my own mental shrine to you. I suppose it was simpler to ignore the reality that you're not my ideal, as far from it as you can get, in fact, and I don't have any good reason for loving you. Well, believe it or not, I can handle being a bit more honest with myself. I'm stronger than I look, Slayer."

*Loving me is a burden? I guess I'm not surprised. Unrequited love is never fun* "I know, Spike. I didn't mean it like that. I was just...never mind. You'll take care of Dawn?"

Spike sighed. "Till the end of the world, Buffy. You know that."

"Yeah. I guess I do." Moments passed. "Let's go." The two walked out the door with determination.

***************************************************************************

The gang came together to fight of Glory's minions. They set up the Buff- bot as a decoy for Glory. In the meantime, Buffy helped the Scoobies. She paused, for a moment, to watch the hypnotic movements of Spike with a sword. He was an amazing fighter. The grace of his movements, coupled with the elegance of his form and features formed an almost poetic image. Buffy supposed she had always found Spike attractive.

He was beautiful, really, with unearthly blue eyes, sharp, high cheekbones, and a wide, sensual mouth. His face was all sharp angles and dramatic hollows. The features were...aristocratic, strangely enough, and yet somehow still adapted perfectly to the big bad image he projected. Buffy blinked twice, suddenly realizing that she had stopped fighting to stare.

Glory destroyed the bot. Buffy arrived just in time to hear the god say something which suited her selfish, air headed personality perfectly. She quickly went to work with the hammer. Spike at the same time climbed to the top of the tower where Dawn was bound and gagged and in ceremonial wear. Doc, Glory's faithful follower from whom Spike and Xander had stolen the ritual text, stood before Dawn with a knife ready for the bloodletting. "Doc. Fancy meeting you here. I see you with the knife - hope you're not planning anything rash."

The demon, disguised cleverly as a man at the end of middle age, snapped out his large, perhaps ten foot snakelike tongue, with the intention of slapping Spike right off of the tower. Unable to quite dodge the muscle, Spike grabbed on with all his demon strength, allowing his body to slip off the edge. He fell, dragging Doc down with him. Once the two were both in the air, plummeting speedily towards earth, Spike shifted his grip on his sword and hurled the blade at Doc's throat.

His aim was true, and the weapon severed the demon's neck clear through, lodging at the hilt. Spike felt a rush of exultation, abruptly interrupted by his inevitable encounter with asphalt. He crashed into the ground and pain roared through him. He was certain bones had been broken. Doc crashed next to him, gurgling around the metal obstruction in his neck. Spike summoned the energy to crawl over to the body, vamp out, and drive his fangs deep into the demon's throat, determined to drain him dry - making certain the creature wouldn't be getting up again. A detached thought ran through the vampire's mind - *hope his blood's not toxic.*

***************************************************************************

Spike awoke to the sound of voices murmuring softly. He was lying on a table. The voices sounded far away, and probably were. Most likely it was his vampiric hearing which enabled him to pick up the sounds. "He broke two ribs, an ankle, a kneecap, a..." "That blood couldn't have been good...not technically poisonous, but he drank so much of...like drinking brine." "...stopped...cutting Dawn" "He needs human bloo..." He fell unconscious once more.

The next time he awoke, he found himself sitting partially upright on a bed, a cut wrist at his lips and his head resting against a soft bosom. He was leaning on someone. Buffy. She was saying something. "Come on. Slayer's blood - the tried and true vampire panacea. I don't open a vein for just anybody, you know."

Her soft, desperate urgings and the intoxicating smell of her blood finally sank in. Spike vamped out and began gently sucking on the proffered arm. Buffy brought up her other hand to gently trace his forehead ridges and then tangle in his hair. She finally just slumped back against her stacked pillows and let him feed.

~tbc~

Thank you LizDarcy, vette, smartie1685(again), Trinity, ello, violet- eyes(again), Spuffy the Witch, Anne Rose(twice), Kimberly, Irony, msu, and Blue Star Galaxy for your reviews.

To Anne Rose and Irony: I hope this chapter has answered your questions.

To LizDarcy: I'm glad that someone appreciates my humor.

To violet-eyes: Spike did get more damage, sorry to say, but I promise there will be no more, expecially not from Buffy.

Part 4:

Spike purred in appreciation as warm liquid life force flowed smoothly past his lips and down his throat. This was ambrosia, so human, so rich with power, so... "Oh crap." Spike yanked Buffy's wrist away from mouth, giving it one last lick so the healing properties in vampire saliva would help her wound close up faster.

The two were still sitting on the bed, Spike cradled in Buffy's arms, but Buffy was now - asleep? unconscious? comatose? Spike had the feeling he'd swallowed quite a bit. He pushed himself away from her, wincing from the jarring his motion caused to his bruised and broken body. Thanks to the Slayer blood in his system he would probably be completely healed within a week or two. He didn't know how much this gift would cost Buffy, though.

She still lay back against the pillows, a bit paler than usual. A small sigh escaped her lips. Spike almost shook with relief at that small sound. *She's asleep. She's only asleep.* He shook her awake. Her eyes opened slightly and she looked up at him with a heavy lidded gaze. Her forehead scrunched cutely with worry. "Spike, you shouldn't be moving -"

"What the hell were you thinking Buffy! D'you've ANY idea how dangerous that was! I could have taken too much. You would've..." He swallowed what he was about to say, rocking back on his heels and rubbing his temples with the heels of his palms. A few seconds passed, and he dropped his hands, threw his head back, and shouted "Fuck!"

Buffy chuckled. Spike threw her a dirty look. She spoke before he could begin another rant: "Spike, you wouldn't have killed me." She spoke up again, seeing that he was about to argue further. "No, listen Spike. You wouldn't have done any serious harm. I don't care how hungry or out of it you were."

"Buffy..."

"Shhhh! I'm too woozy to argue." She pushed him down onto the bed and then took her place beside him, curling her back against his side and pillowing her head against his bicep. Spike's thoughts milled around his head as he lay back, staring at the ceiling. He finally gave up on mental coherency, closed his eyes, buried his nose in Buffy's vanilla scented hair and fell asleep.

***************************************************************************

The Scoobies were gathered downstairs. They were not at all happy. Giles could not believe that Buffy had provided sustenance to yet another vampire. Xander felt the same, with a little incredulous (and misplaced) rage towards Spike thrown in. Willow had doubted the wisdom of the action as well, but Buffy's tone had brooked no argument. "Spike saved Dawn and he needs help. If you don't like it, leave my house."

Tara and Anya were the only ones not to object. They too were slightly concerned, but did not voice any objection. Tara really hadn't the conviction to argue. Willow had caught Glory off guard for a moment and stolen back Tara's sanity, and understandably, all the blonde witch cared about at the moment was curling up in her lover's lap and letting the rest of the world fall away. Anya was as exhausted as anyone. She figured she ought to do something to put Xander at ease, though, and crept up the stairs to peek in on the pair. She smiled at the sight of the two lying peacefully together, deep in the land of nod, and returned down to the kitchen, closing the door silently behind her.

She found her fiancé pacing back and forth across the linoleum. She halted him, grabbing hold of his wrist. "Everything's fine, Xander," she said, sounding strangely wise. "Everything's going to be fine. Let's go home. We'll come back in the morning."

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Buffy was very groggy when she awoke late the next morning. Spike had woken first, and was kneeling beside the bed, peering at her from under hooded eyelids. He reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why'd you do it, Buffy?"

She felt swallowed up in the blue of his gaze, and some emotion she didn't dare name welled up in her. Why had she? She wasn't sure that she knew. She wanted to say gratitude, but somehow the word tasted wrong in her mouth. What she did say sounded strange, and as confused as she was. "You looked so broken and...and I had to make you stop looking like that. Even when Glory beat you up you looked like Spike. You didn't look...dead, and you were just lying there, and -"

Spike kissed her. It was chaste and brief. "Thank you, Buffy." He walked to the door, needing to separate himself from the object of his desire, wanting to run back and kiss her again, and this time not at all chastely. She spoke again as he reached the door.

"I could love you, Spike. It would be...really easy to love you."

~tbc~

Part 5:

Spike quickly walked through Buffy's bedroom door and shut it behind him - only to fall back against it as his legs gave out. Buffy had just said she could love him - not exactly the words he had dreamed of hearing, but a hell of a lot more than the crumb he'd asked for. She'd let him kiss her, feel that pout against his own lips, taste her exhalation of breath as their mouths parted. And then, she'd said she could love him. He could walk on air. He could dance a waltz. He could...

Screw that. *William* waltzed. *William* was the perfect gentleman. *William* was a pouf. Spike, on the other hand, turned around, walked back through the door, took Buffy's face in his hands, pressed his mouth to hers, and sucked the breath straight out of her lungs - with his tongue. Buffy stilled with shock for one second. Another, a third, and she was sliding her fingers into his hair and kissing him back with equal fervor. A fourth, a fifth, a sixth second passed and the situation was quickly escalating beyond the realm of propriety.

Someone was approaching. Spike broke away, recognizing Dawn coming up the stairs by his sensitive nose. Buffy moaned at the loss of sensation just as her little sister cracked open the door. Dawn flung the door wide to better identify the source of Buffy's noise, and was struck by the image of the slightly disheveled and deeply embarrassed pair. Buffy's face had become a very unique shade of pink. Spike's, on the other hand, seemed oddly drained of color. Dawn simply raised an eyebrow and grinned unrepentantly.

***************************************************************************

Vampire and Slayer descended the stairs, arriving in the kitchen for breakfast. Xander gave Buffy a relieved hug, made a few snarky comments to Spike, and then returned to his bagel with cream cheese. Willow greeted the pair warmly, offering them samples from a plethora of food spread out across the table. Apparently Giles, unable to sit still, had gone to the grocery and bought doughnuts, bagels, jam, pancake batter, the works. He was currently in the process of making waffles out of the batter.

He moved from the stove to wish Buffy a good morning. "I see you're alright. Very good. Waffle?"

"No thanks, Giles. Spike?"

"I'll have a doughnut," he said, snatching the last chocolate with chocolate sprinkles from the box. Somehow he'd felt eating would be more tactful than telling the Scoobies 'Thanks, but I'm full.' Slayer blood was incredibly powerful for a vampire, and even with all the injuries he doubted he'd need blood for at least two more days. Still, reminding them that he'd been drinking of the finest slayer vintage for a good part of the night struck him as an unwise course of action.

He sat back to look at the people around him. Willow, Xander, and Giles seemed slightly more trusting. He couldn't see a change in Tara's behavior, but supposed he might, later on. Anya had decided to sleep in, and was dead to the world on the sofa in Buffy's living room. Dawn was, well, gleeful was the only word to describe it. She was overjoyed. She was *alive,* and for that Spike had her (and not to mention Buffy's) eternal gratitude. Spike smiled. He'd done right by the Summers' women, and unlife was good.

***************************************************************************

Buffy stood outside Dawn's old room. After Joyce had died she'd moved into the master bedroom, and Dawn had taken hers. Spike now resided in this third bedroom. She'd insisted that he stay the night. "Just until you're fixed up."

"I'll be fine by myself, Buffy."

"Yeah, sure, in your dark, dank crypt. I'm offering you a room. Don't question it."

And he hadn't. He'd just smiled and nodded assent. "Never could say no to you, Slayer." He wasn't used to being awake during daylight hours, and ended up making use of his new resting place in the early afternoon. Now Buffy stood outside the sleeping vampire's door questioning exactly that which she'd just asked Spike not to. *Yeah. Don't question it, Spike. Cause I certainly don't have any answers.*

She went to her own room to further contemplate her actions. *Gratitude, right? Scratch that. I opened a vein for him. I think that was gratitude enough. So why don't I want him to leave? I mean, sure, I'm grateful, and a little worried. He's still limping, a little. He's...nice? to have around. Sure Buff, having a bloodsucking fiend next door is great! Oh, lovely - I'm giving myself sarcastic backtalk. Actually, he is nice to have around. He's kinda funny, when you get used to his humor. His eyes do this cute crinkly thing when he smiles. He's got a body that's carved out of marble. And he can kiss - God he can kiss! Drusilla was stupid to leave him. Drusilla was just stupid - crazy evil ho. Watch it Buffy. You're starting to sound jealous. If someone could hear you they'd think you were in -"

"Love with him. Oh, crap - I'm in love with him." Buffy needed to sit down. She was sitting down. She needed a partial lobotomy, then. It was like hundreds of alarm bells ringing in her scull - a hell of a wake-up call.

Part 8:

After a few moments of sitting frighteningly still, Giles shakily brought his hand up to his face and removed his glasses. He began cleaning the lenses vigorously with his shirt hem. "I'm fine - no need to me melodramatic."

Buffy became a bit relieved.

"Well, perhaps not fine, exactly." Giles gave a deep sigh. "But I respect your decisions. Now, you say that Spike was sharing your dream?"

Buffy quickly related all she remembered of the dream. "It was strange. I didn't feel as if I were being warned of anything. I was being...informed?

"Tell me again the last part of your dream."

"I said to Spike 'Death took you a century or so ago. So that you could give me this.' - his love - 'Now I have reciprocated. Everything is whole.'"

"I see your reasoning as to how this might coincide with a prophesy. Your dream self describes these events as if they were all fated to happen. Research it is, then."

Giles went to the back to select four or five relevant volumes and some notes. He handed these to Buffy. Most of his notes were passages he had translated into English. Giles himself began searching through one of the Latin texts. Spike, after a moment, looked over the texts and grabbed one and began thumbing through it.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Spike, you're going to help us research? Will wonders never cease?"

"Yeah, well most of the time your research has nothing to do with me."

Giles' face took on a perturbed expression. "Spike, you'd be of much more use to us if you aided Buffy. I don't see how you could get much out of that volume - the entire text is in Gaelic."

Spike muttered something without looking up. Giles asked him to repeat himself, and the vampire sighed dramatically. "I said, I know Gaelic."

Buffy perked up. "You can what, what?"

Spike looked somewhat embarrassed with this revelation. "Angelus spoke Gaelic," he murmured softly.

Giles looked at Spike like he had never seen the vampire before. "I would never have thought you the sort to sit down and learn a language."

Buffy laughed. "I can just see it. Quiet little William with his nose in a book."

"You're a barrel of laughs, Slayer."

Now Giles only looked confused. "Would anyone care to enlighten me as to where this conversation has gone?"

Buffy was still laughing. "Didn't you know, Giles? I guess it didn't say it in those Watcher's diaries. Spike was a poet when he was turned - a bad poet. He went to college and everything. He was this foppish little nancyboy English nobleman." Buffy was now blowing out gales of laughter.

"Buffy!" Spike looked very disgruntled, but found he couldn't be too angry with the girl when she looked so happy. Giles opened his mouth to comment, but Spike beat him to it. "Back to work, now, shall we?"

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Spike finally found something useful in one of the Latin prophesies. Giles was distressed to note that Spike had a better command of the language than he - a language that in this case was learned prior to the vampire's turning. Spike related the prophesy to Buffy, Giles and Anya (who had joined them after her customer had made his purchase), translating as he read:

~Through death, a demon shall be born, unnatural, corrupted by humanity. So shall it search the world to find the huntress, she who's light dwells in darkness. They shall be one in passion, one against the coming darkness. Hatred endeth the world, or love, save it.~

Spike looked up from the page. Buffy spoke: "Well, that sounds like us. What's the last line mean?"

Giles answered. "I think is saying that either your hate will bring about the apocalypse or you love will avert it."

Spike thought for a moment. "I don't get it. It's supposed to be some sort of choice? I certainly wasn't given all that much say in whether or not to love Buffy."

Anya spoke up in an exasperated tone, as of one trying to explain a concept to a particularly dimwitted child. "Love is what you do, not what you feel. Even if you felt you loved Buffy you could have chosen to remain her enemy. Either of you could have chosen to remain enemies just on principle. Buffy, you're a Slayer, right? You have to make choices all the time that you might disagree with emotionally."

"So that's what the dream was?" Buffy asked. "It was just some sort of congratulations? Good job - you made the right choice?"

"I think the point of the dream was so that you would find the prophesy," said Giles. "Now you must make certain that your love not turn once more to hatred."

Buffy looked to Spike. "The coming darkness. I guess that means that something's gonna try to turn us against each other."

Spike smiled softly at her. "Never happen, Slayer."

She smiled back. Her day was going fairly well, considering. They'd found the prophesy earlier than they'd expected. Once the Scoobies knew all the recently acquired facts, the would have ample time to prepare. Now all she had to do was...

Buffy's face fell.

...tell them. *Act II; Scene II: Enter Xander with look of betrayal. A vicious shouting match ensues. The Slayer pulls a badly aimed stake out of boyfriend's bleeding ribcage...*

~tbc~

Part 9:

An hour or two later, Buffy's visions of impending horror were interrupted by a loud slam. Xander entered, flinging open the door to the Magic Box. "Hey Ahn. Hard at work, I see. Buffy, Giles, had a Scooby meeting without me?" He paused for a moment. "And Spike's here." Xander turned to address Giles. "Why is Spike here?"

Giles began to explain. "Well, you see -"

Spike interrupted. "I've got business here whelp." Spike jerked his head in Anya's direction. "Seems you're only here for the pleasure."

Xander ignored the jibe, as well as the person who'd delivered it, and approached the table where the book holding the prophesy still lay open. "New Big Bad I should know about?" He stood for a moment, staring blankly at the English translation which had at some point in the afternoon been written onto the page next to the original Latin text. "Huh. Well that's vague and...vague.

"Expressing your usual eloquence, Harris?" Spike snickered sarcastically.

"Spike, shut up," Buffy snapped. The vampire looked wounded. Buffy only glared harder. Spike's expression turned sheepish, with slight mischievous glint remaining in his eye. Xander could not make sense of this strange exchange between vampire and slayer. He chose to ignore it, addressing a less complex issue. "Since when does Spike use words like 'eloquence' to insult people?"

Buffy got in her own jibe - at Spike: "Since he's spent the past few hours arguing with Giles over Gaelic verb conjugations."

"Buffy!" Spike whined. "You didn't have to tell the whelp."

Xander was intrigued, now. "Tell me what, exactly?"

"That Spike knows more Latin grammar than Giles, and probably learned it for fun because he was that much of a nerd," Buffy laughed.

Spike growled.

"Don't growl. You were calling him names. You deserved it."

Xander cackled delightedly at this new revelation of Spike's past, but was even more amused with the cowed expression on Spike's face after Buffy's scolding. *Spike? Cowed? Now that was just funny. And not of the norm. Bizarre, in fact. Ok, leaning more toward the funny strange than the funny 'ha ha'.* "So, uh, guys - you want to explain what's going on here?"

A panicked expression appeared on Buffy's face, disappearing before anyone but Spike noticed. The vampire decided to take pity on his slayer. Harris was likely to be much less understanding than Giles on the love issue. He spoke up: "Wait a mo', whelp. Oughta call the other Scoobies before we dish. Wouldn't want to be repeating ourselves all into the evening."

Buffy let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Spike had bought her some time, and Willow would probably be able to suppress Xander's temper and propensity towards panic if she were present when Buffy delivered the big revelation. *Please don't let them be disappointed in me,* she begged no one in particular.

***************************************************************************

Willow was called to the Magic Box, and Buffy went out to fetch Dawn. The group was finally together at around four in the afternoon, Spike pacing the back of the store where the light from the windows did not reach, Anya reorganizing money in the register, and Giles cleaning his glasses vigorously. Buffy was slouched down in a chair, but straightened her posture to address the small congregation of friends and family she'd gathered. "Alright, guys. This is how it goes. I love Spike..."

The vampire in question turned his head into a dark shadow and grinned. Something in him gave a thrill every time the girl said those words. He sent his love a comforting look, urging her to continue. Buffy went on -

"...And he loves me. Don't argue with me on this, Xander. I've walked around inside his head, and I know what I felt there. Last night I had a slayer dream, and Spike had the same dream. We think it was leading us to that prophesy on the table."

Willow got up to quickly read the words, as she had not gotten the chance to yet. Dawn joined her to do likewise. Buffy continued her speech. "Something's coming. I don't know what it is. We think it's plan somehow involves breaking Spike and I up."

Xander said snidely, "And this is a bad thing, how?"

Buffy looked slightly hurt - though Spike was certain she was disguising most of the pain that the statement caused. "Xander, you have to trust me on this. Spike and I...it's right. God, I mean, it was prophesied. It's like destiny. There's something bad coming, and so far all I can tell, whatever it is that Spike and I share is our only weapon against it. Don't make this harder than it is."

Xander wanted to shout at his friend, who had apparently cracked under the pressure. *Buffy, are you insane?! This is Spike. Evil, undead, tried to kill you a million times Spike. Got his name by his favored torture method Spike.* Xander happened to glance at Anya, standing by the counter, beautiful and honest, stripped of all her demon powers and left helpless, and yet now an intrinsic part of the gang. Xander suddenly felt foolish. *Remind you of someone else?* Xander looked over to the vampire, and for once saw him a bit like Buffy did:

*Evil, undead, nearly got himself killed for me a million times Spike. Got his first title by writing sad, desperate poetry Spike. Loves unconditionally. Drinks hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows. Yeah - him."

Buffy was still looking at her friends with an almost pleading expression on her face. Xander finally smiled his approval. Willow, who had been quiet for the most part, also smiled her approval. Dawn chirped "Finally! Thought you were never going to hook up," to the couple, before grabbing her jacket and asking Giles to get her some food at the diner next door. The Scoobies walked out the door, one by one, until only Spike, Buffy, and Anya were left standing in the Magic Box. Anya went to locking everything up. Spike turned to Buffy. "So some nasty's come to suck the world into hell again," he sighed.

Buffy, relieved that one trial was over, grinned widely at his statement. "Bring it."

~fin~