Chapter 9:
To anyone who came upon Buffy and Giles as they sat in quiet conference, they looked like father and daughter. It was a serene picture. To others around them, Giles looked like a father comforting his daughter through a great sorrow. And, at this precise moment, they were, exactly, what they appeared to be.

"Giles," Buffy stifled a sob in his shoulder, "I don't know what to do. He says he isn't angry. But, how do I know that? If I were Spike, lying there, unable to see or move," Buffy closed her eyes to the image of his battered face and body. It was an image she didn't wish to keep with her, but knew she would never be rid of, for as long as she was on the earth, "Unable to see, and someone told me that my soul mate," she stopped speaking, looking up at Giles with wet eyes, "That's what he is, you know? I finally get it. If someone had even thought about touching my soul mate, I know I wouldn't take it, not even for a second. And yet," Buffy dabbed her eyes, "he hugged me. Giles, I actually felt him hug me. How is that even possible, after everything that's happened?"

Giles bowed his head in consideration, both for the seriousness of her inquiry, and her depth of feeling for a vampire, who he, himself, had greatly, greatly, misjudged. To his own, perhaps, eternal, detriment, "Spike has proven to be quite...remarkable, over the years. I now see that it was my...past experience that blinded me to that, quite obvious, fact. Perhaps this is just another example of his capacity to," Giles choked on the next words, not because he didn't believe in what he was saying, but because of those prior experiences, "care for you?"

Buffy sniffed, "I hope that he knows how much I care for him, Giles. How much I love him."

Giles pulled Buffy into a comforting embrace, "I'm sure he knows, Buffy."

Upstairs, in the church proper, all the congregants began to feel a slight rumbling beneath their feet, some became alarmed, and, thinking an earthquake had hit, got up to run for shelter. Buffy and Giles knew that this was no earthquake under their feet, no this was something much worse, and descended from serenity into chaos.
***********

" 'That's not a prize you're holding, Spike. It's a burden. It's a cross,'" Spike yelled, in a gruff approximation of Angel's voice, and continued yelling, "I'll give him a cross! Only question is, which end does he want it shoved into," the intensity of Spike's words rose as Buffy raced the long labyrinth of stone, "Thought you'd burn me to ashes and take Buffy from me, did you? Well, didn't work quite like you'd hoped, did it, Angelus? Still here, burned to a bloody crisp, but I'm still here, you ponce! My demon may be under the delusion that you are in control here, but, unlike you, I have an organ other than my John Thomas! It's called a brain. I know that Buffy loves me! She told me so, and I believe her. You think you've got her just because she has your teeth marks on her neck? Think again!" Buffy reached the archway of the chamber just as his anger and rage lost all its gale, and his voice became a lost, and lonely whimper, "I haven't seen Buffy in four hundred and forty-two days," his voice was strained with emotion, adding to the desperate sound hitting Buffy's ears. Spike seemed to lose hope, and moaned, "And now, thanks to you, I might never see her again."

Buffy looked up to see her sister, Dawn, crying silent tears, as she handed Buffy her latest lab report.

She took it, in her trembling hands, and read what was written, "It's in his blood?"

Dawn nodded, mutely.

As Buffy read on, her jaw fell open, in shock, "It's reacting to my blood. Human hemoglobin, that's what this thing eats?" Buffy didn't wait for Dawn to answer but continued reading, "The Initiative had this? As part of the 'HST elimination campaign'," Buffy tried to put all the pieces together, "So, in a world full of goodies," Buffy looked at Dawn's stricken face, and knew that the horror on Dawn's face mirrored her own, "vampires starve to death."

Dawn nodded again.

"But, the Initiative was shut down, how did...?

"Willow hacked into some old government files that were, recently, declassified, because the Senator mentioned in them, is dead."

"Which Senator?"

"Senator Brucker," Dawn bit her lip, "Buffy the Senator gave the last vile of the serum to a man named Lindsey McDonald. He was supposed to use it to kill Angel, as part of his initiation into The Circle of Black Thorn."

"And, the Senator?"

Dawn nodded, "Buffy, Senator Brucker was a member of The Circle of Black Thorn."

Buffy wanted to vomit, "Oh, God," she gasped, and rushed in to see Spike. His eyes were closed, and his face calm, his voice, however, held a timber of sorrow in it that Buffy had never heard before, the hollowness of it made her lose her breath as she listened to his soul lament her.

... "Sunshine. I've lost my sunshine. Forever."

Buffy looked at Dawn in shock, "You told Spike about this?"

Dawn whimpered, "I couldn't lie, Buffy. Not to him."

Right now, Spike needed something to focus on, other than the grim news from that report. So, putting on her best "Buffy hates Spike" tone, she snapped, "Spike! When's the last time, other than the past two months, you've had human blood?"

His answer was clear, "You're the first since before the Hellmouth closed."

"After your injuries, who fed you? Has anyone fed you except me?

"No."

"Angel didn't feed you, why?"

"He said he tried, but, as he isn't my blood sire, it didn't take."

Buffy looked for Dawn, who was hanging on her every word, near the outer edge of the crypt, "Dawn," she said, " I think there's a homeless shelter, or a convent, adjacent to the church grounds. See if you can find some blankets and something to put something in, like a bowl. If you have to, stand in line for soup. But hurry. "

"I'm on it," Dawn said, as she rushed out.

Spike's voice was puzzled, "Buffy what are you doing?"

Spike could hear Buffy moving around the vault as she spoke, "Spike, how long can a vampire go on without feeding on blood, at all?"

"If he's healthy, sometimes months. In the case of injury," Spike remembered all the anxious hours he spent, doing nothing but counting nights and watching Drusilla slip further and further away from him, "Ten weeks."

"Ten weeks from today?"

"Yes."

Buffy looked at her watch, "Today is August 2nd. That gives us until October 16th to find Dru," she smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see her, "Piece of pineapple."

Spike sighed, "Cake, Love. It's cake."
************

As Roberta closed up her little magic shop, "Pandora's Box," she wondered about the strange woman who was her last customer, before closing. She seemed so pale, Roberta thought that maybe she was ill, or crazy, after all, there was an asylum just over the hill. Roberta shook her head, as she closed out the cash register. No one ever asks for an Orb of Thesula anymore. The woman was lucky she still had one in stock.
*******

Robin Wood decided to take one last sweep of the docks, before meeting up with Faith after her sweeps of the cemeteries. He wanted to get home before the light rain became a downpour. He was just about to turn and head for Faith, when he saw her, huddled near the edge of the pier, and it looked as if she was crying.

"My boy has drowned," she was saying, "He's gone away and I can't find him."

Robin approached her, cautiously, "Is there something I can do?"

"Why yes," Drusilla said, as she looked up, "Bad boy. You, lion cub, should know better than to wander from your lioness."

Before Robin had a chance to think about how, and why, it happened, Drusilla's fangs were in his neck, and all of his lifeblood was drained.
*********************

Dawn came back to the crypt, breathless, but with, blankets and bowl, minus the pea soup, in hand, "Buffy, I have what you wanted!"

"Good," Buffy said, "Now, spread one of the blankets on the floor."

Dawn didn't question, she just unfurled the blanket with a soft snap of the wool, and spread it on the floor, "Done. Now what?"

Spike was curious, if not mildly alarmed by the movement around him. Yeah, now what, Love, he thought.

"Now, I need you to help me get Spike down from there, and on to the floor. Dawn, take his feet."

As Spike felt little hands grasping his feet and shoulders, and his body begin to sway, he asked, "Buffy, what are you doing?"

"Spike, this thing in you, it bonded to the blood I gave you," she gave a wicked grin that she knew he would be able to hear from her tone, "I gave it to you, so, I can take it back."

As Spike felt his body touch solid ground again, he screamed, as loud as his weakling voice would allow, "No, Buffy! This thing, it's in me, if it got inside you? Buffy, you could die!"

Buffy's voice wavered a little, "So could you, again. I thought you were clear on how I wasn't going to let that happen again."

His voice was firm, "No, Buffy, I won't let you do it!"

Buffy sighed, exasperated, "We've been over this, haven't we? But, in case you didn't hear me the first time, stop me!"

"Buffy, No!"

Buffy knelt down next to Spike, placed the bowl on the floor next to her knees, and said, "It'll be okay, Spike. This is just like snakebite. I finally get to use some of the training I learned from Riley, who knew he'd actually help save your life?"

The point of her pocketknife went into the flesh of his neck opening the vain. She watched the blood bubble up and spill out onto his neck, she leaned over, and whispered into his ear, "I'm just going to give you a little kiss, Spike. It won't hurt a bit."

As she bent down to kiss his neck, the world went away.

Love. Hate. Fear. Rage. Ecstasy. Bliss. Cecily. Sorrow. Tear, rip, break, and destroy. Watch the blood flow, crimson and bright. Dru. So happy. Spinning. Whirling in her bright darkness, tumbling down, and down still more. The light. The light in the dark. So strong. Reach up to the light, need the light. The light hurts. Must keep on reaching, always reaching. Climbing up and up then sliding down. Pushed down, by the light. The light doesn't know me, but I know her. I love her. So tired. Buffy. Love you. So bright and shining. My sunshine beam. Look at you, so happy, so sad, so full of pain and Love, I love you. Do you see me? The pain. You're so small, Love where did you go? I'll save you. Hit me. Pain. There's my bright girl. Hit me again. Let me take the dark. You need the light. You don't need me, I need you. No, don't go! Go, fly away! Buffy, want me. Please. Love you. Need you. Love you. Where did you go? Love you. Need you. Buffy. Burning. Afraid. I'm afraid of the dark. Need the light. Need to see the light. Where did it go? Buffy, where are you? Too dark. Buffy! Buffy! Buffy!

In a dizzy haze Buffy cleaned the small wound in his neck, passed Dawn the bowl full of blood, and lain down next to him holding on as fierce as she dared. She thought she heard a choked whisper, "Buffy," as she drifted into sleep.
***************

Angel hadn't been to Cleveland since he'd tracked that Boritz demon to Kingsburry Run. He thought he could help. Elliot Ness could track a Boritz all on his own. Fine, Elliot Ness. You do that.

Now, he was back, in a nightclub, with a name that couldn't scream 'Hellmouth' any louder if it tried. "Howl at the Moon''? Were they kidding?

"Have you seen this woman?" he asked the bartender, showing him an old photo of Drusilla.

"Yeah," he nodded, " about a week ago. Gone now, though."
**********

Drusilla waited below decks. She just hoped the key was where her boy had left it.
 

Chapter 10:

Angel sat in the belly of the behemoth of an aircraft, and fumed. He was late again, and what's more, now he had to tell Buffy that someone she had fought with, on the Hellmouth, was dead. All of this because he wanted to, finally, feel the soul he'd been so smug about for one hundred years. After what Buffy told him about what happened in Sunnydale, after spending hours listening to her weep over the loss of Spike, he had tried to reach down inside, to find some kind of comfort to give to her, but there was none.

She'd said that he told her he felt it, his soul, before she'd left him there. Spike, in the end, knew he had a soul. Angel wasn't even sure his was even there anymore. He tried to think back, think of where he'd seen it last, where he'd misplaced it. But, no, it hadn't been misplaced. Angel knew exactly where, and when, he'd lost it. And, he knew whom he'd given it to. Connor. With Connor gone, there seemed no reason to even try anymore.

That was, until Spike whirled out of that amulet, like a demented genie on a mission. Just seeing Spike there was enough to make Angel jealous. Not of Spike, necessarily, but of the fact that, despite losing everything he could possibly lose, Spike's first thoughts weren't for himself. He didn't even bat an eyelash, not that he could, over being a ghost. Didn't mope or sulk at the lot he'd been cast, well, at least not for long, and certainly not for a century, he just launched right into the only things he knew. He knew only two things, and he was proficient in them both, Buffy, and taking the piss out of his curmudgeon of a Grandsire.

Angel would never tell Spike that he envied him for that. Angel would never tell Spike that the reason he put on such a megawatt grump, was because, that was the only way he could keep from crying at the irony he felt inside at wanting to laugh with joy, and stake him for being so damn cheerful, all at the same time. What, and give him more ammunition?

That was why he'd stirred up the trouble with The Circle, to feel the rush of fists and fangs. The comment still rang in Angel's head, "Don't you ever get tired of fights you know you're gonna win?"

Yes, he was. This was a fight Angel had known he was going to lose, even before it started. That's why he signed away the rights to the Shanshu. He didn't want it anymore. Not without Connor. Without him, there was no reason, so, why not give it up? It wasn't his anyway. Angel had just wanted out.

The night of the fight, Angel had set his sights on that dragon, simply because it was the fastest way out, and, he knew that vampires and fire were not a friendly mix. Angel had watched, from the periphery of his vision, Spike, snarling and growling, hacking and slashing away at anything that got between him and Gunn, who he'd chosen to protect. When Spike sensed that Gunn, sadly, no longer needed protecting, Angel noticed Spike's protective stance widen to include Illyria.

Angel almost smiled at the memory of the tiny Victorian poet, Victorian to the last, trying to protect the mighty Illyria, God-king of the premortium, who'd been encased in an even tinier body.

Angel was only half-heartedly in the battle. He took some minor swipes at an Akijahan or two, but he wasn't really committed to it. Spike, on the other hand, jumped in with both feet, both fists, both fangs, and a battleaxe for good measure.

It wouldn't be long now, Angel knew. The dragon had seen him; the glint of his sword had caught its attention. Just like the Tyrannosaurus Rex, it was attracted to movement. Soon, it would all be over, and Spike would have what he deserved, the girl, and the life, all of it.

That was when he'd heard Illyria scream. She'd tried to warn him, but Spike had somehow managed to, simultaneously slash open a Dufarrn'k, while dancing away from the Yarnesh that were nipping at his calves. Angel had to admit, Spike was pretty nimble in a fight. But, not nimble enough to keep the Dufarn'k's blood from splashing up onto his face and neck. What Angel had thought was a cry of pain, had actually been a warning. Spike dove toward Angel, tackling him to the ground, just as the dragon reared its head back.

The next thing Angel saw was a wall of fire, where, only milliseconds before, Spike had been standing.

The next thing he heard, should have been impossible. He heard Spike's voice, in his head, thundering like a sonic boom, the one name that should have been on his lips as well, "Buffy!!" The force and sheer volume of that cry made Angel's teeth rattle in his skull and brought him to his knees.

Then, all was quiet, as Angel realized that somewhere in the soul that was buried under all the regret, he'd recognized his kindred was in agony, and had cried, at the top of his voice, "Enough!"

And, everything had stopped. No demons, no dragons, no nothing, just a horribly mangled piece of flesh that had once been William the Bloody, and a visibly disturbed Illyria. And, then, of course, there was him.

Angel shook off the memory, and tried to focus on where Drusilla might head next. Once his hands stopped shaking, he would call Buffy and the others, and tell them the news of Robin Wood's death.
************

On a rainy night in England, a woman stood in an old convent cemetery. She walked slowly, careful not to disturb the dead. She came upon an old and crumbling stone. The name on it was so weathered that it was, almost, unreadable. Drusilla didn't need to read it, she knew the inscription by heart. The stone read: Sister Mary Michael , B.1835 D. 1860. Underneath the dates, was an inscription, almost as old, lovingly chiseled, twenty-five years after the stone had been erected, secretly by her brave knight: Racing Heavenward. That was what it said. Her boy had left her a love note.

Drusilla smiled as she left her sleeping sisters, and whispered, "Mummy will be home soon."
************

It was Xander's turn to stand watch outside the chamber. Dawn had told him what Buffy had done for Spike. In the past, the very mention of the words "Buffy, Spike, blood," and of course the ever-popular, at least on the Hellmouth, "Sucked," used, together, in the same sentence, would have sent him running for a nicely sharpened stake and some fresh holy water. But, after the things they'd all been through, Xander thought, what's a little blood between friends? Xander smiled to himself, listening to Buffy's soft snoring, which only goes to show how much I've grown, he thought.

Inside the chamber, Buffy busied herself lighting candles along the outer edge. She knew Spike couldn't see, but the dim light was starting to put a strain on her vision, so she'd sent Willow for some, non-magical ,candles.

As far as she could tell, Spike was still sleeping. The ordeal had been hard on them both, but hardest on him, and he needed the rest, so Buffy tried to be as quiet as a church mouse, as she moved about the crypt.

She smiled, at the thought. What do you know, I'm being quiet as a church mouse, in a church, with a sleeping vampire. I should write gothic novels! No one just makes this stuff up.

Just then, she heard Spike's gruff voice, coming from the floor. It sounded as if he might have been in pain, or possibly crying, "Love," he said softly.

The stress in his voice caused her to turn around and ask, "What is it, Spike? Are you in pain? Because I could..."

"No," he whispered softly, the word, almost a prayer.

That's when Buffy noticed it. He was looking at her. His eyes were open, and she could see the most beautiful blue eyes in the world staring, lovingly up at her.

For him, nothing in the universe mattered more than seeing those liquid pools of green, widen, quiver, and then, at last spill over, looking at him. Somehow, he managed to make his brain work long enough to utter the words that he had wanted to say for over a year, "Love," the words said in whispered worship, "you're beautiful!"

 

Chapter 11:

Buffy didn't move. She didn't even dare to breathe. Somehow, time had folded in on itself, and she was back inside the Hellmouth, looking into those incredible blue eyes. Buffy had seen his eyebrow quirk, ever so slightly, and his mouth form the small little smirk, that always told her that he knew she was lying, but he wouldn't ruin the game. The game was too much fun to quit now. He looked at her with all the hope and all the pain that could ever be on one man's face, and rasped out, as if saying it louder would wreck the beautiful dream he had constructed for himself, "No, you don't. But, thanks for saying it."

"No," she had wanted to scream, "This time I mean it! I really, really, mean it this time. This isn't a game!" Instead, she kept silent and let him push her away. Buffy had raced along crumbling rooftops, the memory of his eyes urging her to go faster, and faster. Pushing her, until she was standing, safely at the crater's edge, watching that stupid,"Welcome to Sunnydale" sign teeter, and topple over for the last time.

She'd smiled because she knew he'd been the one to push it over. Of course he would. No one else had the right to do that.

"Buffy," his voice was grinning, "Now, I don't need to, being dead and all, but, the last time I checked, humans, like you, my beautiful, beautiful, Slayer, need to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh huh," she sighed.

"Good. Now, are your legs all right?"

"Yeah."

"Then," his eyes were shining, "I need you to come towards me a bit, and to your left."

Buffy shook her head, a little confused, "What? Why?"

"Because, Goldilocks, if your blood pressure continues to drop, like it has for the last ninety seconds, you're gonna faint. And, I don't want you to hurt that pretty little noggin of yours on the concrete. Also, although, normally, I'd say, 'Have at it,' right now, I can't catch you, so, I don't want you to fall on top of me."

"Oh," she said, as she slowly made her legs do as he instructed, "Thanks," she said, and promptly fell to her knees.
**********

Buffy stirred a little, the memory of the pleasant dream still in her mind. She reached out behind her with the fingers of one hand, and found Spike's still form, next to her on the blanket. At least that part wasn't a dream, she thought.

Lying next to Buffy, Spike was enjoying the little pinpoints of fire that broke out on his skin where she was touching him, " Hello, Buffy," he cooed, "Do you think you can get up now? I think the candles have gotten a bit low. Even though I am loathe to ask you to ever leave my side, I think perhaps it would be best if they were snuffed out."

Squinting in confusion, Buffy rolled toward Spike. Her plan must have started to work, because even though his face was still very burned, now, at least, she could see his cheekbones starting to redefine themselves. The skin that had grown in was kind of a pinkish color, like a newborn baby's, and that gave Spike a very lifelike appearance. She propped herself up on her elbow, first looking at the candles, which were, in fact getting low, then at him, "How did you know the candles were.... Oh," she said.

Spike blinked, and Buffy noticed the skin that had started to grow where his eyebrows would eventually be, shifted upward, ever so slightly, he smiled at her, "Eyes like a hawk, Slayer," there was a ghost of the mischievous smirk on his lips, "All the better to see you with."

Buffy balked, "Spike, can you see me?"

Spike's tone was teasing, but joyful, "Is there someone you'd rather I look at, Slayer?"

"No," Buffy squeaked, excitedly, "Absolutely not."

"That works out nicely then," Spike chuckled, "Because I am not taking my eyes off of your beautiful face for the next fifty years, no matter what you say. So, you had best just clear that jam packed social calendar of yours, all right?"

Buffy closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning again. She just couldn't believe how blessed she was. Her dreams, all of them, were coming true. Some, not as fast as she would have liked; but they were still coming true. The one that she never thought she'd ever see again, the one who's eyes were the truest things in the entire world, was looking at her with so much love, that when she finally opened her eyes again, and Spike was still looking at her, patiently waiting for her to speak, Buffy couldn't help but giggle.

That sound, that tiny, little sound, hit Spike's ears like a thousand cathedral bells, ringing all at once. That sound shot straight to his heart, and, if he did not know better, he would have sworn that it had started beating again. He watched, happily, as Buffy's little button nose crinkled up, and the sound escaped again.

Buffy's fingers ached to touch him. She bit her lip, unsure, afraid she might hurt him, "Can I...?" she asked.

"Please," Spike breathed, eyes closed in anticipation.

"It won't hurt?" Buffy asked.

Spike's voice was a breathless whisper, "No. Buffy, please, I don't want to sound like a silly schoolboy with a crush on the Homecoming queen, but, please kiss me?"

Buffy leaned over Spike, and tenderly touched her lips to his mouth. The skin that should have felt leather-like, because of the trauma to his face, instead felt as soft as rose petals. It had been so long since she had kissed him, in anything other than a dream, that just having him this close, this real, made her head spin.

Her fingers began to dance around the skin of his face. She could feel her fingers sink down in to explore the arch of his cheekbones. Buffy then became bolder and her fingertips touched the soft curves of his eyelids, sliding down to discover the baby fine wisps that were his eyelashes. Her heart leapt with joy, knowing that behind the safe protection of those eyelids, were the eyes of her soul mate. Eyes that would, always, and forever, love her. Eyes that had once, and now could again, see her, down to her very soul. Spike had seen her at her best, he'd seen her at her worst, and he never flinched, never looked away, and he, honestly loved her al the more for her faults, and in spite of them, than she had ever thought it was possible to be loved.

Spike was trying hard to remain grounded, remain focused on Buffy. He focused on the streaks of flame her fingertips left on his face. She was so warm, and soft, and giving, that Spike almost had to pinch himself to remind himself that it wasn't a dream. Except, he couldn't pinch himself, so he just let the warmth of a touch he'd been so long without, glide over his face and eyes, and seep into his bones, warming him from the inside out. He felt his heart swell in his chest, and knew, that if Buffy hadn't been there to tether him down, he felt certain he would float right to the ceiling, and he wasn't sure he would have been able to stop there, if she didn't stop kissing him, right now, he would float out into the stratosphere, and never come back down. Oh, God, Buffy, please don't stop! Don't ever stop! I love you! God, Buffy, I love you so!

Just then, they heard a polite cough coming from the archway, "I hate to break up the lovebirds," Xander said, "But Angel's own the phone. He says it's important."

As Buffy's lips left his, Spike almost whimpered from the loss, "Harris," he growled, "Anyone ever tell you you're a Hell of a buzz kill, mate?"
***************

As Drusilla walked the quiet cobblestone streets of Prague, she remembered how loving William had been during those long nights when all she could see was the pain; the pain was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She knew that her bright boy was in pain now, and needed her, soon.

She had to be certain everything was ready.

 

Chapter 12:

Drusilla held the little trinket lightly in her hands. If she twisted her wrist just so, she could see the starlight twinkle inside. The way the light played tag in the small sphere, it was difficult to believe that something so big and so important could ever fit inside such a tiny space. Drusilla thought, perhaps, if she smashed the bauble against the cobblestones beneath her feet, she would be able to catch it, like she had caught the firebugs in a jar when she was a child. If she could catch it, then it would be hers to keep, for always and ever.

William was always so good at hunting the things she had lost. If it were to be found, William would help her find it, just as he always had.

Drusilla remembered asking her Daddy once, soon after William came to live with them, where it had gone. He had become cross, and told her that it had flown away, just like her other birds, and wouldn't sing for her anymore.

Hours later, William had come home, wrapped her up lovingly in his arms, and whispered, "Hush now, princess," William said, kissing her brow, "Would a lion be punished for simply being a lion?"

Drusilla sighed and said, "No."

William smiled, "Princess, if a lion is being just that, a lion, if she is being a hunter, and the antelope her prey, and the lioness hunts and kills its prey, so that she, and her cubs, survive, does that make the lioness evil, for having ate the antelope, or the antelope good?"

Drusilla shook her head, "No," she whimpered, the tears coming up again.

"And, if the antelope had done nothing else, in its entire life, except be food for the lioness, where would the antelope be?" he asked, kissing her temple lightly.

"I do not know," Drusilla wailed, "Daddy will not tell me where it has flown to!"

William turned her in his arms so that he could look into her eyes, "Ah, but Drusilla, that is, perhaps, because Daddy does not, indeed, know where it has gone," he bit his lip in thought, then his eyes twinkled like starlight, and he said, "But, I believe that I may know where it has gone!"

"You do," she asked, "Oh, goody," she clapped her hands with delight, "Please tell me, so that I can find it!"

"I shall show you, princess. Tomorrow night, come with me to the cemetery, and I will show you."

And, William did show her. On the grave marker, in the convent cemetery, the next night, was the message: Racing Heavenward. It made Drusilla happy, beyond words, to know that William had known where to find her lost treasure. And, surly, if William needed her help, her Daddy could give back what he had taken from her. Surly, he would let her have her songbird back so that she could sing with the angels.
****************

Buffy took the cell phone from Xander, "What is it," Buffy asked, her voice small, and tight with worry, "and hurry it up, because I really should get back to Spike," she held the phone away from her mouth, "Xander, will you go check on him please?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, heading down the long passageway to the chamber.

As Xander made his way, slowly through the dark and winding maze, he thought of another night, almost like this one, three weeks ago. He'd been embarrassed, having to interrupt two people who were obviously in love with one another, to relay a message about Robin Wood's death. Seeing Buffy and Spike together, like that, made him feel a pang of guilt over Anya.

When Buffy left the chamber to take the call, Spike had asked him to stay, because, he had something he wanted to tell him.

Xander looked, nervously, down at Spike. Spike sounded tired as he said, "Take it easy, Harris, I'm not going to bite you," his eyes moved up to follow the direction in which, Buffy had just left, "But if you tell Buffy any of what I'm about to say to you, I just might make an exception, got it?"

"Got it," Xander said.

"Good. Harris, that kiss just now? It hurt like Hell, but I wouldn't dream of hurting Buffy by telling her that. I also know that, without human blood, this is gonna get bad, Harris. Do you follow me?"

"Yeah."

"So bad, that Buffy might have to make a decision she doesn't want to make," Spike closed his eyes, "If it comes to that, if she can't make that decision, if I'm too far gone before Angelus can track Dru, and bring her here, I want you to do it. Understand?" Spike asked, his eyes pleading.

Xander nodded, grimly, "I understand," he said.

"That's settled then. I think I hear her coming," as Buffy reentered the crypt, Spike smiled up at her, and Xander heard him ask Buffy, as he was leaving to go back on watch, "Hello, Sunshine, how was your day at the office?"

Xander winced a little at the artificial cheerfulness. He didn't think he could handle this kind of responsibility. Well, Xander thought, time to grow up.
*********************

Buffy strode the stone corridors, straining her voice, so as not to disturb Spike in her anger, "Angel, just how long does it take to send condolence flowers to the grieving widow, and get your sorry ass back here," she yelled, listening to his answer, "The funeral was two weeks ago. Are you trying to tell me that Drusilla made an appearance? She didn't? Well, where is she now, because she sure as Hell isn't here," Buffy rolled her eyes in the air at the absurdity of Angel's excuse, "You know, I think Spike was right. I think you are trying to kill him! Hero?! You want to see a hero, get your ass back to Los Angeles, before the only real hero here," Buffy sniffed back her tears. Spike wouldn't want her to cry, not now, "is really gone, and not coming back," Buffy closed the phone, with a loud snap, "Asshole!"
********************

The comment Buffy made about heroics made Angel think about the aftermath of the battle that night. He didn't think he would ever forget the sight of Spikes burned body, lying on the asphalt behind the Hyperian Hotel.

Angel had crawled over to him, his fingers trying to determine if Spike was lying face up or face down, and also trying to decide where the best place to take shelter would be, when he heard, very slow, very deliberate, footsteps coming up the alleyway to meet him, He tried to keep his voice steady as he said, "Hang on, Spike, I've got you."

"Well, we knew you'd be a star, but no one in the Home Office bet on this," the voice was gleeful.

Angel looked up to see a man, in a grey business suit and red tie, "Holland Manners," he hissed, "What do you want here!" Angel blinked away the tears that were blinding him.

"To congratulate you, of course! We didn't think you could do it, but you did. You corrupted something that was, nearly, incorruptible," Holland shook his head in grim fascination, "A soul. And with things as pedestrian as greed and envy. You should be proud of yourself," he nodded toward Spike's charred form, "We couldn't have taken him out without your help. He was a real champion for the other side."

Angel's voice was hoarse with grief. A grief he didn't know he could feel until this very moment, "He's not out yet! And, he's still a champion," Angel ignored Holland and addressed Illyria," Saint Benedict's Church is just a few blocks over. There's an old root cellar that leads to the sepulcher beneath the sanctuary. Take Spike there. I'll follow you."

Angel watched as Illyria picked Spike up in her arms, and sped off toward the church. He turned toward Holland, "No one from the Home Office would dare set foot in a holy place," Angel hissed, "If they do, I'll kill them."

Angel's vision came back to the present, and he said to Riley, "We're going back to Los Angeles."

"But what about Drusilla?" Riley asked.

"Her boy needs her. She'll know it. And, she'll come."
***************

Buffy snuggled close to the still form in the crypt. Spike stopped speaking about ten days ago, but she knew he was still aware because of the little mewls of pain that he gave every now and then. As she snuggled down close, trying to give him her warmth, she said, "Now, I don't know what kind of songs you used to sing, when you were a kid, other than 'Never leave me', which, by the way, you promised. So I'll sing one I liked. And don't make fun of my singing," Buffy said, secretly hoping that he would, just so that she could hear him again, "Ready? Here goes... 'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you..." Buffy whispered the rest into Spike's ear, " 'Please don't take my sunshine away.'"
 

Chapter 13:

Xander may have only had one eye left, but he still had two good ears, and he knew what grief sounded like. The edge that was in Buffy's voice had been in his own, a year ago. Xander knew that Buffy needed a break from looking after Spike, on a nearly twenty-four-hour basis, for nearly three months. Xander also knew that if it came down to a fight between Drusilla and Buffy, right now, Drusilla would claim her second Slayer. And, Xander knew, that if that happened, and Spike found out that Xander could have done something to keep it from happening, Spike would have him for dinner. And what's more, Xander would welcome it.

Instead of going directly to the burial chamber, he'd slipped up into the sanctuary and out the back of the church. All of the people he needed to talk to were back at "Scooby Central," the tiny hotel room three blocks from the church. Xander had a plan, and he needed everyone's help.
**********************

Buffy put the candle in the small holder and watched the flame waver and the line of smoke weave up to the ceiling. She knelt and placed the flame a safe distance from Spike's skin, but still close enough that his face and body were cast in a shimmering shadow, and examined him with a critical eye.

There were things that she expected to see. The black splotches on his body were getting smaller, so his body was healing itself. But, Buffy knew that healing, without the aid of human blood, was not only a slow, but also a painful, process. She could see the pain in his eyes, even before Spike had diverted the energy he had used to communicate to healing his injuries. The pain had transformed his eyes from clear, bright, azure to a ring of dark, feverish royal blue, all but obscured by the dark pupils in the center, as they tried in vain to draw in more light so that he could see her. Yet he still kept silent about the extent of the pain he was in, preferring instead to try and put her at ease with a devilish smirk and bedroom humor. But, Buffy knew the truth.

Ten days ago, Spike had stopped communicating with her at all, and his eyes had clouded over, to a smoky bluish- grey. Buffy hadn't seen that color in his eyes since the behavior modification chip the Initiative had implanted in his skull had started to degrade. She knew he'd been in screaming pain then. But now, he wasn't screaming, and that scared her even more.

Buffy leaned down to place a kiss to his temple. That soft mercy was rewarded with a tiny intake of breath, an energy Buffy knew he couldn't afford to expend, but did anyway, because it was something Spike had always done. Spike used his lungs, even when he didn't need to, purely out of habit. When they were together, Spike would let his breathing fall into rhythm with hers. Spike wasn't even aware he was doing it, but it was another thing about him that she'd been missing for too long. Another thing that she wasn't going be without again. At least, not before she fought tooth and nail, to keep it.

"Yeah, that's right, Buffy's here," she said, tenderly, "You just concentrate on getting better. Don't you worry about Drusilla. You let me do that, all right? Whatever she wants, she can have it. It doesn't matter," Buffy carefully laced her fingers in his, "I just need you back, Spike."
*****************

"Okay gang," Xander said, "Buffy needs a break. She hasn't left Spike's side in almost ninety days. She won't say it, but I know she's tired. Buffy needs to get some sleep."

Willow agreed, "Xander, what do you want us to do?"

"Well, I'm no vampire, but I am a guy, and I know I wouldn't want everyone I cared about," he looked at Dawn, "Especially girls that I thought of as a little sister, and who I kept safe the summer her sister was gone, seeing me without a stitch of clothing on," Xander saw Dawn's cheeks redden, "for three months!"

"But," Dawn said, "wouldn't putting clothes on him hurt him? I mean, he is burned."

Xander nodded, "The gowns they have in hospitals barely touch the skin, and he wouldn't need to be moved much for us to put it on him. I admit, it's not his usual taste, but it does cover all of Spike's naughty parts, none of which Dawnie should be seeing anyway."

"And the wounds must be in need of debridement by now," Giles said.

"What is that?" Dawn asked.

Illyria answered, "It is the process of removing burned tissue, so that the body can begin to grow new, undamaged, tissue in its place."

Dawn winced, "That sounds painful."

"It is. Extremely so," Giles said.

Willow's eyes brightened, "I think I can help there," she said, " I can enclose him in a healing field. If we need to move him, or do anything to him, while the shield is in place, it shouldn't hurt at all. It's kind of like a magical morphine drip."

The others only stared at her in stunned silence. They knew what Willow was capable of if she let the magic take control of her.

Willow put her hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Strictly healing magic. No dark eyes, I promise," she looked at Giles, "If you don't believe me," Giles, you can monitor me."

Giles smiled, "The very fact that you are willing to be monitored proves that I may not need to do so. But, I will be nearby, should you need assistance, Willow."

"So, that's the plan," Xander asked, waiting for each to nod, "We all have our assignments. Let's spit up, and meet back at the crypt in an hour?"
*****************

Buffy lay in the crypt talking, as much for her own sanity, as to keep him company, "Dawn said that when I was gone that summer, you went a long time without feeding," Buffy gave a wry smile, "I thought you looked a little skinny that night. You looked like you were going to drop, right at the base of the stairs. Dawn told me you'd started seeing things by the time Willow did that spell. It's no wonder that you looked like you'd seen a ghost," her tone became serious, "I wonder, are you seeing things now?"

Just then, she heard Xander's voice at the archway, "Buffy, the gang's all here. We'll take care of Spike for a while. You go get some sleep."

Buffy got up from the floor, and met her friends; some with medical supplies in hand, " Xander, I can't leave Spike right now."

Suddenly, a voice came from the floor, "Slayer, let the flunkies have a go, yeah? You rest. Don't worry, I'll be here."

Buffy's head snapped to the sound, "Spike! Are you sure?"

"Yes. Sweet dreams, Slayer."
*********************

Willow finished the incantation, "Okay guys, we should be able to move him now."

Xander stepped up, with the hospital gown and slippers, smirking down at a sleeping vampire, "My," he said admiring the pink glow of energy that quivered around him, "but the 'Big Bad' looks so pretty in pink. Come on, big man, it may not be fashionable, but if I have to look at you in your altogether, one more day, I'm going to hurl," Xander said as he carefully threaded Spike's arms through the garment, and tied the back closed.

Dawn stepped up next, "Spike, it's Dawn. I'm going to give you a nice alcohol rub, okay, maybe help cool your skin down faster so that you feel a little more like, well, a vampire," she poured the contents of the bottle into a small dish, dipped a cloth into the alcohol, and began to gently swipe his face and arms, "This won't hurt, I promise," Dawn's voice hitched as her fingers worked the cloth over his skin, " I love you, Spike."
******************

As Buffy fell asleep, on the bed in the Hyperian Hotel, she found herself in Sunnydale again. Her house and yard looked exactly like she remembered it. There was even the oak tree in the front yard. She squinted against the glare of the sunlight. No, it wasn't possible, she thought. But, it was. There was someone standing under the tree. There, standing in bright, blaring daylight, was Spike. Just as perfect as she knew he was, not a burn mark on him.

"Spike, is that you?" she asked, stepping off of her porch.

He sauntered closer to her, "What do you think, Slayer?" he said, holding his arms wide, waiting to catch her.

Buffy ran into his embrace and Spike lifted her up and spun her around until she was laughing from the dizziness. The sounds of Buffy's laughter only made Spike spin her faster, forcing her to cry out, "Stop it Spike, I think I'm going to be sick!"

Spike slowed down his momentum, and placed Buffy gently on her feet, "We can't have that," he said placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, "can we?"

Buffy stared, wonderstruck, "How, I thought you were back at the church?"

Spike nodded, "I am. I'm getting all the tender loving care I need, right now. I thought maybe you could use some, so here I am."
******************

Angel looked at Dawn, "You mean that Spike hasn't let his demon show, for three months?"

"Yep. No gold eyed baddie, just blue eyed 'Big Bad.'"

Angel shook his head in disbelief, "William's amazing."

"I know," Dawn said, with pride in her voice, "Willow's going to let the field down now, so you can feed him. You said it would help with the pain, until Drusilla got here?"

"It should. But, afterwards, he might be a little weepy."

"Well," Dawn said, "If you can't cry in front of your friends, who can you cry in front of? I cried in front of him. He can cry in front of me."
**************************

Buffy awoke to Dawn pounding on her door, "Buffy, wake up! Angel's here, and he's going to give Spike some of his blood. I think you should be there, in case Spike needs you."

Buffy was up and dressed in a flash. Slayer speed is still gangbusters, she thought, "Okay Dawnie. I'm right behind you. Don't let Angel near him until I get there."

"You got it," Dawn said, running back to the church.
 

Chapter 14:

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

Willow was glad that Buffy wanted her to wait until she was present before she lowered the healing shield around Spike. As Willow looked at the mixture of pink and green light swirling around him, she smiled at how peaceful he looked, like a sleeping angel. The field had allowed a calm to settle over him that hadn't been there three months ago. And, thinking back on it, Willow wasn't sure she had ever seen Spike in quite this way, in all the years she'd known him. Willow was glad that she'd said kaddish for him, even though Kennedy couldn't understand why she would do it, after all, Spike was just a vampire, she'd, just once, reached back to her Jewish roots to offer up a prayer for the dead, hoping that somehow, Spike would find peace.

Now, for this brief moment, lying in the glow of magical energies, he had it, and letting the field drop would plunge him back into agony. She didn't want to do it. Once the magic dissipated, the wall between Spike's emotions and the others around him would be gone. If Willow didn't act fast, his pain would affect her and anyone he cared about, for miles around. Willow wasn't sure she was that fast, or that strong.

Dawn had been so quiet that Willow had forgotten she was even with her, until she spoke, "He looks so pretty, doesn't he? The pink and green sort of bouncing off of him like that? Don't tell him that I said he was pretty though, he still wants me to think he's tough, which I guess he is, because, Angel wasn't this bad off when Faith shot him with that arrow full of poison, and he couldn't go two days without going all fang-faced and trying to eat Buffy."

Willow smiled, letting Dawn's head rest on her shoulder, as she watched the magic do its thing, "You know Dawn, comments about how the pastel color scheme of the healing spell make Spike look slightly effeminate aside, I think he would take that as a compliment."

Dawn's nose scrunched up, "You mean, if I didn't say that the spell makes him look like a girl, he'd think what I said was cool?"

Willow nodded, "Something like that. Where is Buffy, anyway?"

"Oh, she's coming," Dawn said, "Angel and Riley showed up at the hotel, and she wanted to talk to them before coming here."
************************

"...And, explain again why it took you almost a month to make it from Cleveland to Los Angeles?"

Angel hung his head, "Part of it was because I really thought I could make heads or tails out of Drusilla's dribble, and I could bring her back here..."

"And the other part?" Buffy asked, impatient to get back to Spike, "Come on, we've got six weeks to find Drusilla, and I don't want to waste any of it talking to you if I don't have to."

Angel was puzzled, "Six weeks? But, I thought you were feeding him."

Buffy sighed, exhausted, "Oh, that's right. You didn't hear about the nifty little parasite that ate up the blood I gave him faster than I could give it to him."

"What?" Angel asked, genuinely shocked at this development.

"That's right," Buffy went on, "A little something left over from Maggie Walsh's bag of nightmares. A parasite that, when introduced into a vampire's system, feeds off of human hemoglobin, slowly starving the vampire," Buffy shook her head, "Normally, I'd say that her evil scheme was brilliant, but not in this case."

Riley spoke up, "I know this. Maggie called it, 'Wasting Serum,' it was the next level up from the chip. No matter how much a vamp ate, he'd always end up looking like a concentration camp survivor. Before he turned to dust, that is."

Angel was still confused, "So, how did it get into Spike's system, this parasite?"

"Something he drank, I guess. Angel, did you know someone named Lindsey McDonald?"

Angel's face grew dark, "Say no more. Buffy, how long has he been without blood. I'm assuming that's what you did," he looked at Buffy's swimming eyes, nodded a little, trying to reassure her, "You put him on a forced fast, didn't you," Buffy nodded slightly, and Angel could see that she was trembling from exhaustion, "Don't worry Buffy, it's what I would have done."

Buffy's voice was barely a whisper, "That's not all I did," she said.

"What did you do, Buffy?" Riley asked, gently.

"I took the blood back, Riley, like you'd treat a snakebite victim. I sucked the blood right out of him."

Angel was afraid Buffy would say something like that. Now, not only did Spike have to fight excruciating pain, but also he had to do it without the aid of blood. Though Buffy certainly did not have enough blood volume to completely eliminate it, her feedings should have allowed Spike to flush the poisons introduced into his system the night of the fight. If he'd had Buffy's blood to help him, he might have been able to move by now, but now, Angel wasn't sure what kind of timeline he was working against, or even if he could help Spike, even if he did give him his blood. From what Riley described, the parasite was brutal, and in Spike's weakened state, Angel wasn't sure Spike would be able to call out to Drusilla, even if he wanted to.

Angel closed his eyes; honestly afraid of what he might find when he went down into the sepulcher under Saint Benedict's. Angel had dealt with fear before, by driving those people he held nearest and dearest to him away. That tactic not only left him numb and dead, inside as well as out, it also made him the Home Office's new poster boy, apparently. If he remembered right, Angelus had told Spike that, without passions, we'd be truly dead inside. Well, it seemed that Spike had taken that lesson to heart, even before he'd given it. Now, Angel thought, who's Yoda in this scenario? Angel smiled at the irony, "You're finally taking the old man to school, Boy."

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing," Angel sighed, "Take me to him."
*******************

What Angel found under the church was worse than he'd expected. The skin was healing in some spots, that was true, but Spike's body was almost skeletal from lack of nourishment. If it wasn't for Willow's healing spell, Angel was sure Spike would be screaming. Yet Dawn had told him that the demon had not come to the fore. Not even briefly, in three months. To Angel, that meant that Spike's body had already begun to shut down. Without some kind of support, Spike would be dust by the end of the week, Drusilla, or no, Drusilla.

"We have to get him somewhere quiet," Angel said, scooping Spike up in his arms before anyone could protest, "He has to be more comfortable," Angel tried not to show how the sight of Spike really made him feel, "Spike can't be comfortable here. He has an apartment, not far from here," Angel saw the others glare at him in distrust, "You all can come with me. He'd want you with him," he said, nodding toward the helpless form in his arms, "And, Buffy, if a man calling himself Holland Manners comes calling while I'm busy with Spike, don't believe anything he has to say. Riley, I need you to raid a blood bank for me, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't," Riley said.

"Angel, what are you going to do? He can't have human blood," Buffy said.

"He can't," Angel said, " but I can."
************

Angel had drank his fill of the preserved blood, and looked at Spike, who slept on, oblivious to pain, in the shimmer of Willow's magic. Angel hated taking him from that peace, even for a moment. "Buffy," he said, You might want to be close when Willow lets the magic down, to let Spike know you're still with him."

"Okay," she said, moving into position on one side of the bed.

Angel nodded toward Dawn, who moved in to flank Spike on the other side. Once the girls were in place, he checked to see if Riley was ready with the tranquilizer dart, in case things got out of hand. With Spike in this condition there was no telling what kind of emotions could come flooding into Angel's conscience. They all had to be on guard against Angelus.

Angel nodded to the girls in flanking position. Buffy and Dawn started to murmur comforting words, softly, into Spikes ear, while Angel stood with his wrist near Spike's mouth, ready to accept the fangs, when they descended. He nodded to Willow, who whispered an incantation, and the glow of light around Spike was gone.

Just as the light flickered out, Angel felt the fangs, and heard the same scream boom in his head, that he heard that night in the alley. Buffy dropped to her knees, and started to sob. It was then that Angel knew that Buffy had heard it too, and felt the horrible pain Spike had been trying to hide from her.
****************

Drusilla looked out at the dark water as it carried her back home to her boy. Normally she never listened to Miss Edith. Miss Edith was always trying to ruin her fun, and Drusilla couldn't have that, so she just ignored her. Not tonight though. Tonight the air worried about William, and Miss Edith told her to listen, and she did.

Drusilla heard her boy screaming, and she wished the boat had wings so that she could fly to him and make him better; set him free, "Hang on, my brave, brave, glowing boy," Drusilla whispered to the black waves, "I'm coming."
********************

Buffy sat on the toilet in the small bathroom, the only place in the small apartment where she could get away from the sight of Spike in that much pain. Buffy had a hard enough time hearing it, but seeing it as well, and knowing that Spike had lived with it, for months, and never let on, just made her crazy. Buffy didn't know whether to punch him silly, when he was on his feet again, or kiss him senseless. Perhaps a little of both was in order.

There came a small tapping at the door, and then Willow's voice, "Buffy, it's over. We told Spike that he should sleep, that's what Angel left to do, but, you know Spike," she giggled a little, "he said, and I quote, 'Not on your life, Red. Get Goldilocks out here, now.' And we don't want to disappoint him, now do we?"

Buffy opened the door a crack, just enough to see that Spike was sitting up, in that tiny bed, and smiling at her. Wait, Buffy thought, Spike's sitting up in bed, and is that a finger I see calling me over to him? It is, I never thought this would happen, but here it is, Spike's crooking his finger, and, here I come running.

Before Buffy knew what was happening, she was at the side of the bed sitting as close to the edge as she dared, so as not to hurt him.

"Well, Slayer, still have the reflexes I see," Spike smiled a genuine smile, "You look good, Slayer, a bit tired but otherwise, perfect, as always."

"Me," Buffy gasped, "Spike, you look... you look," she shook her head, completely at a loss for words.

Spike smirked, "Cat got your tongue, Slayer?"

When she said nothing, Spike shifted a little under the bedclothes, and looked down at his clothing, "Buffy, who dressed me in sodding bunnies? This is...well, this is...oh, who am I kidding? I couldn't care less what I'm wearing. All that matters now, is that, though I still need Dru to get back to 'Big Bad' status, and I'm weaker than a week old kitten right now, I don't think you need to wear the floor out with your worrying, Pet. Seems the old Grandsire finally did something right."

"Yeah," Buffy said, "Remind me to thank him. And to beat the tar out of you, once you can hit back, that is."

"Me," Spike asked in teasing tone, his eyes glinting with a shade of the old fire, "What on earth did I do to deserve that kind of treatment?"

"You didn't tell me how bad it was for you," she pouted, "That's what you did."

Spike's eyes dropped, "Still is bad, Pet, just not as bad as before. Still need Dru. All Peaches did was buy me some time, is all."

Buffy almost kicked herself for pushing the issue, "How much?" she asked.

"Enough," was all he said, as he leaned her head against his chest, and held her tight, as he drifted into sleep, contented, for the first time since he'd held her, just like this, in an abandoned house in Sunnydale.
 

Chapter 15:

The steady rhythm was comforting to him. The signs of life in this tiny room washed over him like gentle waves. The reverberation that sounded in his chest and ears was the sweetest sound Spike had ever heard. His girls were here, he was home and he was going to fight to stay. He was wanted. He was loved. Everything he could ever want was right here, in the tiny pocket universe of two girls. One whom he loved until the end of the world, the other, he'd loved beyond her death, and his. If he was dreaming he never wanted to wake up. If he was delirious, he didn't want the cure. He was home. And, he was never leaving again. He'd move heaven and earth to keep this. No one was taking it from him, again.

"Spike," Dawn's gentle voice, "wake up."

His eyes stayed shut, his arms enfolding a sleeping Slayer, "Bit, there'd better be another apocalypse, and if there is, tell Beelzebub I'm off the roster of Champions for the time being. Tell him I'll catch him on the next go, yeah?"

"It's okay," she whispered, careful not to disturb Buffy, "I just wanted to tell you that Willow and I are leaving. She set up a protection grid around the whole building, so, no one is getting in here that you don't want to get in. Angel said something about a Holland Manners. No one's getting in here without letting all of Los Angeles know it."

Spike's eyes stayed closed, "Dru?" he questioned.

"The gang knows what she looks like. And, just in case, Riley is just outside the door."

"Solider Boy rode to my rescue," Spike was more than a little shocked at that little tidbit of information, "Well then, I must be delirious."

Dawn giggled, "Glad you're here, Spike. I love you. See you tonight," she said as she shut the door.

Spike listened carefully, straining to hear his Little Bit until the last tympan of her heart faded into the white noise, and his private little duet became a solo performance.

Yes, he was home, and he wasn't going anywhere.
**********************

Drusilla knew that the time was coming. Miss Edith had told her that she would have to fight for what she had lost. That the nasty little sprite that flittered about William's heart was not going to give him up without a fight. Drusilla knew she could do it; turnabout was in the cards. William had faced the mouth of Hell, and Death herself, to see his ripe plum blossom again. She would face her, too.

Drusilla just needed one more piece to fall into place, then all the stars would align, and her treasure would be lost no more, and would be hers again, now and forever.
*********************

Her breathing became shallow, and slightly faster than it had been for the last two hours. His Slayer was waking up.

"Buffy," Spike said, in a singsong voice, "Don't dwell in dreamland too much longer. If you do, I just might have to kiss you until your head is spinning," Spike smiled at the contented sigh that escaped, as she burrowed deeper into his neck, "What was that, Pet? Didn't quite make that out."

Buffy sighed, "Do I have to? I like this dream. I don't want to wake up. This dream is so much nicer than the others."

Instinctively, Spike wrapped his hand around the back of Buffy's head, pulling her in closer, doing what little he could, now, to protect her. He was surprised to find that the words were having trouble getting past his suddenly pitifully small throat, "It's all right now. That's all over and done. Don't you worry."

Buffy came to full awareness when she heard the tight, raspy quality of his voice; it was obvious that the blood Angel had given him had not helped as much as she had hoped it would. Buffy slid away from his embrace, as gently as she could, and looked at his face. His eyes and face were shining with moisture. Spike had been crying, and from the looks of it, this wasn't the first time. "Spike," Buffy asked, unsure of what to do, "are you hurt?" Buffy began searching him for anything, any small wound she might have missed. She didn't want to add to his suffering. Buffy tried to place her hand on his face to wipe away the tears, but that seemed to hurt him even more. His chest started heaving as uncontrolled sobbing took him over. Alarmed, Buffy jumped out of the bed as if it were on fire, and asked, desperately trying to keep her own fears in check, "Spike, what is it?"

Spike shook his head, weakly, against the pillow, trying to compose himself, "No, Buffy," he choked, "it's not you. It's just, it finally hit me."

Buffy's face and body relaxed a little as she, slowly, came back to his side, "What did, Spike?" she asked as she gently wiped away the tears that had drifted back, on the pillow, away with her thumb. Buffy felt a ping of joy, as she felt Spike lean into her touch ever so slightly.

"That you're real," Spike whispered, "That this isn't a dream."

"Nope," Buffy smiled, wanting to press tiny kisses of love and reassurance into his skin, until the reality of her became a part of him, "You've got the real thing, right here," she kissed his cheek, "one hundred percent pure Buffy Summers," she leaned up on her elbow and stretched up to kiss the tip of his nose, "Live, and in, very," a little touch on his lips, and Buffy felt him shudder, "very bright Technicolor." Buffy peppered his face with kisses, vowing, silently with each one, that she would do whatever she had to do to prove to him that she did love him, and that he was not dreaming, and that her love would be the one thing he could rely on, now and forever.

Spike stopped resisting, and gave in. He let himself fall over the edge of what he knew, and let her ridiculously small, but incredibly strong arms hold him, safely, in their loving embrace. And, even though his body felt like molten lead, the nerves exploding in fire with every movement, he didn't care; he had to hold her. He reached up to the crown of her head, and slid his fingers through the rays of sunshine that she wore. The softness of her hair, the softness of her, made him whimper with the joy of having her again, and he gently held her to him.

Buffy felt the small tug, and fell, softly, with him. This wasn't the desperate, cruel, painful touch she'd always required of him before, this wasn't a touch that she intended to punish herself, or Spike, with. This touch, these kisses, was a promise. And, she realized, he was promising too. With each kiss, he was promising that he would be hers, forever.

Buffy never wanted to stop kissing him, but, suddenly, she felt lightheaded. At first, she thought it was a pleasant sensation, sort of a side effect of having Spike again, after so long a period of withdrawal. Love like this was better than any drug Buffy had ever read about, certainly better than anything she could ever dream up. But, no, this wasn't love that was making her giddy; it was lack of oxygen. What a way to go, she thought, as she reluctantly pulled away for air.

Spike sighed at the loss of contact, and giggled a little, slightly drunken from her kisses, and the way she made him feel, "Told you, Pet, I'd kiss you senseless."

"I love you, Spike," Buffy said, breathlessly, "I've never felt this alive, Spike, ever. I don't think I've ever felt this much love," Buffy looked at his face, and yes, there were burns, yes, he looked like he hadn't fed in a couple of years, and yes, she grinned, he was bald as a billiard ball, his hair hadn't grown in yet, I suppose that will come when Drusilla gets here, but, the glint in his eye, the tilt of his head as he was looking at her like she'd gone crazy, was all Spike. He was here, and he loved her. She knew that. Buffy continued, remembering another time and place, "You're the one, Spike. Now, and forever, I'll love you," Buffy kissed him again, and hoped that he knew how much she loved him.

As Buffy kissed him with all her heart, he knew that she meant what she said. She loved him. He was loved, now, and forever.


 

Chapter 16:

Buffy was kissing him. After more than a year apart, Buffy was kissing him. Not Angelus, not Soldier Boy, not that ponce who called himself "The Immortal," but him. This had to be a dream; he couldn't possibly be this lucky. Spike was absolutely over the moon. If Buffy had asked him to, at that moment, he could bring down the stars for her to pin in her beautiful hair. George Bailey was a lazy lout, giving his ladylove just the moon. Buffy wants the moon? She can have that, and the universe it came in, too. Just keep kissing me like that.

She doesn't love you. What makes you think she could love you? This is just pity. It's just a guilty conscience, she could never love the real you. What? Where did that come from? Don't pay attention; maybe he'll go away. Just concentrate on Buffy. She doesn't know who you really are, doesn't know the things you've done. Right now, Spike wished he could tear the soul right out of him. Stop it, you stupid sod, I spent a year listening to you, and Angelus, tell me how I wasn't good enough for Buffy. Now, here's living, breathing, and, oh God, she's so warm, proof that you both were wrong. She's so warm, and I'm so hungry. It would be so easy to just give in. Just a little nip, she won't even feel it. Do you think she'd love you if she saw your true face, the one you try to hide? She can never love you. No! You're wrong, she told me she loves me, and you're not going to ruin this for me again!

"...William the Bloody, this is Ground Control, come in," Buffy's voice was teasing, Spike tried to focus, just, exactly, when had she stopped kissing him?

Spike was flustered, and more than a bit spun around, by his traitorous, magical whatzit called a soul, "What?" he sputtered.

Buffy smiled warmly, "You okay? You looked like you were a million miles away for a minute there."

He tried to shrug it off, "It's nothing, Pet," he felt his throat tighten a little at the lie he was telling her, "just an old wound. Keeps nagging me, every now and again."

Buffy had noticed his face shift while she'd been kissing him, and thought that maybe, the shifting had hurt him somehow, "Really, where?" Buffy asked, concerned.

"It's not an actual wound, this is more of a metaphysical one."

Buffy's face crinkled in concentration, after all, it had been a while since she had had to use her brain when having a conversation. Spike had always been good at mental calisthenics. Of course, sometimes they didn't talk all that much, but when they had, it felt good. It kept her sharp, and on her toes. Buffy really missed not having Spike to talk to. She took a deep breath, and jumped in, "Are you talking about the soul, Spike?"

"Yes," Spike sighed, "Fought for it so that I'd fit in your world, fit with you, and then it spent two years telling me that I was lower than the dirt under your feet."

Buffy's heart ached for him. She knew what it was like to think that you didn't fit anywhere. Buffy knew that better than anyone. She'd come back from heaven, to a world that didn't need her anymore. And, then, in order to save the world, she not only had to give up Spike, but she had to give up the thing that had defined her, for seven years, being the one, and only, Slayer. Of course she knew how he felt.

"Spike, this might sound funny, coming from me, considering the emphasis I placed on it, in the past, but, the soul didn't make me love you."

His eyes went wide with surprise, "No?"
***********************************

Angel couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the battle again. Saw the look in Spike's eyes as he dove to knock him out of the fire's path. To Spike, Angel was family, warts and all, and to him that meant something. It was what had kept Spike going, when, Angel had to admit, he would have quit.

Quitting just wasn't something Spike did. The words, "It can't be done," were never strung together in his vocabulary, even from the beginning. That was something he never understood about William, and it used to drive him crazy trying to figure Spike out. Still did. Angel couldn't understand why the soul hadn't really changed Spike all that much. At least, not like it had changed him.

"Ah, but, does the soul make the man, or does the man make the soul, Angel?"

Angel wondered how he had gotten in here, the door hadn't opened, "Holland, what are you doing here?" he asked, fully prepared to drop kick him out the nearest window.

Holland looked quizzical, "Oh, I'm just pondering the mysteries of the universe, like you. People in the state you're in now, are prime real estate for the Home Office to set up shop in, and flourish. Don't want to miss the opportunity. This could lead to a promotion for me."

Angel was in no mood for banter, "To what, pond scum?"

Holland nodded, knowingly, "Keep questioning, Angel, you keep it up, at this rate, I'll be regional director before the month's out."
*******************************************

"No," Buffy said, "it wasn't the soul," she smiled, remembering the exact moment in time that she'd started to feel the feeling that everyone, her Watcher, her friends, Angel, and even she herself, said was impossible. After all, he didn't have a soul. Buffy sighed, "Do you want to know when it was that I knew? When I realized that I loved you, for the first time?"

Spike felt his arms and legs tingle with anticipation, "Yes," his body felt as tight as a spring, "Please, do tell, Slayer. I'm on pins and needles here," he smirked.

"When you held a sword, away from my head, with nothing but your bare hands," Buffy smiled, knowing he knew the moment she was talking about.

But that was back in...that was before the soul. Before that horrible night in her bathroom; before she'd jumped from that blasted tower, and plunged his world into darkness for one hundred forty-seven days, before he'd wanted her to beat him down for all of the terrible things he'd done. That was before the fire, and the burning, before her friends had been so thoughtless, ripping her out of heaven, and tearing her soul to shreds in the process, before his heart was left broken and bleeding because he'd tried to piece her back together.

Spike tried to control the rising tide of anger he felt, at her, at himself, at the world in general, and said, in a slow measured tone, "You never said anything," he looked into her soft gaze, and she was looking back, she hadn't blinked, "Why?"

Buffy could tell by his tone that she'd made him angry, and she didn't blame him at all. She should have said something long before she did. No wonder he hadn't believed her when she finally did say the words. Buffy placed her hand on his cheek, watching as his amber eyes drifted shut with the contact, "Because of the history I have," she said, sheepishly, "Vampires who know I love them, they tend to go," Buffy rolled her eyes up, trying to search for the right words, "a little, let's see, how do I put this, psychotic, and try to kill my friends. The ones without a soul, that is," Buffy paused, and Spike could see the wheels turning in her head, "Now that I think about it, the soulful ones try that too," she smirked at him, her eyes shining, "So, you see my dilemma. To tell, or not to tell, that was the question."

Buffy saw his eyes shift back to the azure hue she'd missed so much, a smirk playing on his lips, "I can see how that might be a problem," he said.
*************************

"You're wondering why she chose him, aren't you," Holland asked, "And, not just Buffy, you're wondering about Drusilla, too. What makes Spike so different? What makes people he's just met, for example, Illyria, want to protect him? Why does he seem to be able to turn enemies into allies, so quickly, while you have, for a trusted associate, an ousted Watcher who would have rather seen your own son grow up with someone who hated you, rather than risk you raising him," Holland shook his head, in pity, "It's sad, really."

"Don't mention Wesley, or Connor. Those subjects are off limits," Angel hissed at Holland, letting his demon show, to punctuate his point, "Ever again. Are we clear?"

"Oh," Holland sneered, "we're clear. Still, it makes you wonder, doesn't it? And, it's not the microchip that made Buffy and Dawn trust him. Riley told you that, if Spike had wanted to, he could have hired someone to kill all the Scoobies if he'd really wanted them dead," he gave a put upon sigh, "Or, he could have just locked them all in a wine cellar with a couple of bloodthirsty vampires, that would have gotten the job done, and no migraine for Spike, so what is it, really," Holland shrugged, "Some things will always remain a mystery, I guess."
***************************

Drusilla looked over the edge of the crater. This was where it had started. She'd seen it, all those years ago. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Her brave knight, the bravest in all the land, she'd told her Daddy so, the night she found him. He was standing down there, with all those burning, baby fish. He'd almost made it back to her, almost made it to heaven, but something pulled him back, right out of her grasp. She'd been so happy, and sad, at the same time. With him there, they could both rest. But now, she was hurting, and she wanted her Daddy to make things right again.
********************************

"What was it Darla said to you once," Holland asked, "Something to the effect of, 'What we were informs what we will become,' wasn't that it? Interesting theory. What was William?"

For Angel, examining Spike's psyche was like walking in the sun, not something he wanted to do. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, and Holland was preventing that from happening. If this is what it took to get Holland out, so he could get some rest, so be it. Angel sighed, Will this get you out of here any faster, me telling you about William?"

"Yes," Holland said.

"Fine. William was a weakling. He was never good with girls, tripped over his tongue trying to talk to them. He was the kind of person you never would notice, not in polite society. He was a wallflower, really, "Angel mused," But there was a spark of something; something that was too stubborn to die, when Drusilla made him."

Now we're getting somewhere, Holland thought, "And, what was that?"

Angel heaved an unneeded sigh, "He could love. Even with the soul gone, he could love. He wasn't empty."

"Like you are?" he asked.

"Like me," Angel said.
**************************

Buffy was pacing in the little apartment, "Spike, she can have whatever she wants. I'd give her anything she wanted, if it would help you."

Spike's muscles screamed as he struggled to push himself against the mound of pillows behind him. Buffy saw him struggling, and, after Spike collapsed halfway up, she helped him the rest of the way, hoping that her touch was gentle enough. Sometimes, when she was frightened, like she was now, she didn't know her own strength.

Spike was grateful for the help. He really didn't have it in him to handle a strategy session right now, but it couldn't be helped. Buffy needed information about Drusilla. Information not even her sire knew, information only he could give, "Buffy," Spike croaked, "with Drusilla, logic doesn't enter the picture. She doesn't know what she wants half of the time. When I took care of her," he cast his eyes down, away from Buffy's gaze, as if his next words were a shame to him, "When I loved her, I only paid attention to half of what she said. The other half, that was just gibberish."

"So, which half do I listen to?"

"If Dru starts going on about Miss Edith, that's when you listen."

"Why?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Oh, Rupert, didn't you tell your girl anything," he looked at Buffy's confused face, "Look Pet, when a vampire gets changed, the soul leaves the house and goes into the ether, somewhere, for good or ill, wherever it is that souls go, but, even though the body's resident has vacated, and the vampire's set up in his old digs, there's always something left behind."

"What?" Buffy wondered why Giles, or Angel had never told her this. She supposed that this would make it harder for her to do her job. The Council was always a secretive bunch of morons.

"It's a bit like moving into an already furnished flat," Spike continued, "It is empty, yes. And, you bump around in it, but, there's always a reminder that someone was there first. You live there, but the walls aren't painted with colors that you're entirely fond of. Understand?"

Buffy nodded, "Why Miss Edith?"

"Miss Edith is her magical whatzit, the leftover from her life, before."

"Huh?"

"Buffy," Spike said patiently, "Drusilla was a nun before Angelus turned her. Nuns don't start out with names like, 'Sister Mary Michael,' they chose them, as part of their devotion to their new lives as nuns," he stopped; reliving the pain Angelus had caused Dru, before he'd turned her. Before, he'd admired Angelus for his inventive cruelty. But now, it just seemed over the top, "Buffy, in life, Drusilla was Edith Christine Hillary. Miss Edith."

Buffy was confused, "But you don't have a third name."

"No," Spike snapped, annoyed, "My mother named her bouncing bundle of joy, 'Spike' because she wanted to impress her biker friends!" he took a breath to calm himself, "Buffy, in your heart you know that I'm right."

Buffy looked at the sadness on his face, and wanted to comfort him, she walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, and asked, "So, what's your leftover?"

He smirked at her, "I think you know that, Pet."

"Yeah, I think I do," she said, as she leaned over to kiss him.
***********************

Angel heard a knock at his door. He had just fallen to sleep, and was angered by the interruption. Pulling his robe over his shoulders, he pulled the door open with a jerk, "Holland, I thought I told you to..."

"Daddy," the voice behind the door said.

"Drusilla," Angel whispered, in shock.
****************************

 

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