Sideways Shanshu 2 Part 3

Dawn stared at the shadows on the ceiling, thin tendrils of darkness

cast from a light hitting the tree outside, dappling the blank surface.

Her mind flashed back to art class, and the teacher talking about

negative space. She got it, now...but it was easier to apply it to the

shapes on the ceiling, though, than on herself.

She'd hid her day at class from Buffy, mostly because it was too

embarrassing. She had managed to make it through the first two classes,

only to cry through English and was sent to the office for most of the

fourth period. People had stared, whispering. Most were sympathetic,

like her friends at school and the teachers. Others just avoided her, as

if her grief was contagious.

Art class was the hardest. Her teacher almost forced her to go home, but

she had pleaded with her to stay. She regretted it later, after she

started crying again halfway through the class. Kevin had squirmed,

unsure what to do, while her friend comforted her and lead her to the

bathroom to clean up and pull herself together. Kirstey was out there,

watching. Maybe gathering more ammunition, or waiting for the crazy

Summers girl to crack.

The dark forms on the ceiling moved in the wind, branches shifting and

twisting into new patterns. She knew those shadows, because it was

negative space...just like her. She was the shadow, the empty part of

the picture. The loss of her mother drained away a piece of who she was,

her identity. More negative space.

"Dawn, are you asleep?" Buffy's voice cut through the silence, down

below on Dawn's right.

"No. Just thinking."

"About what?"

Dawn shrugged. "Nothing. Well, and school."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. It was hard, I cried, but I don't wish I stayed home."

She heard the sound of nylon being shifted around, the jingle of the

zipper against metal teeth. "I'm sorry I've been running around and

ignoring you. I thought if I kept busy, I could avoid breaking down

before...before tomorrow. I haven't been there for you, and that's not

how it should be."

"It's okay. I wanted to be alone. I think I need to--we're different

that way. I used to run away to be alone, and you always ran away to

avoid dealing. You don't run away now, but you still try to find ways to

escape, somehow, either through fighting or being on top of things."

"Funny. Spike said almost the same thing..." Buffy stopped, then

continued, "...but nevermind that. You're right, we don't deal the same

way. But I want you to know that you can always lean on me, no matter

what."

"I know, Buffy," Dawn said, swallowing away a brief moment of weakness.

She focused her mind on what else Buffy had said. "Did Spike tell you

that when you were down in the basement?"

"Yes--now go to sleep, Dawn."

She waited a few seconds, then said, "I like him, but you already knew

that, I guess. I'm glad he's here."

"So am I...but it's only temporary." Buffy sounded a bit too wistful

about it to her ears. "Now, please get some sleep."

"Okay," Dawn answered, turning her head so she could no longer see the

patterns of shadow on the ceiling.

****

The next day started off easier than the past few days, as long as Buffy

thought of her mother's funeral as 'the ceremony'. If she focused on the

details, she would come across as very strong and brave to her friends

and family--Spike and Dawn would know the truth, but no one else needed

to know.

Her Aunt Darlene and Uncle Joe came by before the funeral, mostly to try

and console their nieces, and pay their respects. Her aunt resembled her

mother just enough that Buffy almost started at seeing her, afraid yet

almost hopeful that her mother wasn't really dead, after all. When

reality kicked in, it hit harder than she expected. She had to run to

the bathroom to compose herself.

Aunt Darlene let her know that she had already arranged to have food

brought in for the family for when they all came back to the house,

which Buffy had completely forgot about. She knew her family and friends

would be coming over, but the food issue had slipped her mind. She felt

foolish when she began to cry, upset over missing such a small but

sudden important detail. Her aunt tried to comfort her, telling her

everything was fine, but Buffy suddenly felt bitter and angry at the

remark. Nothing was fine, anymore.

She retreated to her room only to dress for the funeral, searching

through her closet for something appropriate to wear. The fact that most

of her black clothing was tight, or made of leather--or both--sickened

her. The one day she needed something respectable, decent, and her

closet was filled with tawdry choices. The little black dress she owned

was too much little, and not enough dress. She eventually found a pair

of black pants, deemed it worthy, and tossed it on the bed to search for

a suitable blouse to go with it.

She found a grey silk blouse, understated for what she normally wore. A

knock on the door pulled her out of an internal debate over chunky heels

or flats, and she opened it to find Spike standing outside, looking a

bit meek.

"Uh, sorry about intruding and all, but...my clothes are in here."

It took about a second for that to sink in. "Oh. Sorry--I didn't think."

He grabbed a folded pile of black clothes on the floor, but before he

could leave, she asked him hesitantly, "Which of these should I wear,

the heels or the flats? I can't decide."

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Well, wear whatever's the

most comfortable, I guess. Nobody's gonna care what's on your feet

anyway."

"Okay. Thanks." He was about to walk past her, when she spoke again.

"I'm sorry--I'm obsessing on the details again, aren't I?"

"It's all right, pet. We're all a little scattered today," he rubbed her

shoulder, and she tried to smile in gratitude. "Now I'm gonna get

dressed, and then I'll pull my car around and we'll head out."

"Your car?" She asked, puzzled.

He shrugged. "Your father wanted to take a spin in it, and I offered to

drive you all. It's the least I can do."

She smiled genuinely now, still amazed at the change he'd undergone.

"Thanks. I'd--I'd better get dressed now. So...shoo."

He grinned at the term, then disappeared out the door, closing it behind

him.

****

Time seemed to hold still as they headed over to the funeral home, or so

Dawn thought. Everything appeared to move slower, take more time. The

silence was excruciating, prolonged. She brushed lint off her black

dress for the seventh time, still seeing white flecks against the

fabric.

This was the one Mom had bought her, because she said every girl needed

a black dress, for any occasion. It had hung in her closet, waiting for

a party or a dance. She never thought she'd wear it to her mother's

funeral.

The service at the church was formal, and very moving. People from her

mother's life stood up before everyone and shared memories of her. She

started crying while Buffy was up in front, saying a few words about

Mom. She didn't feel so bad when she noticed there wasn't a dry eye in

the place after Buffy stepped down.

The wake was simple, and short--people she didn't know came up to her

and tried to comfort her, or tell her how wonderful her mother was, and

how deeply she would be missed. Even Brian had come to pay his respects,

wishing he'd had the time to get to know Joyce better. Wesley and

Cordelia also had come, having driven up from LA that day. They'd never

been close friends of the family, but they too had the same haunted look

as the rest of the people in the room.

The processional to the cemetery was slow, as expected. Dawn tried not

to think about where they were going, but it was inevitable. Time might

seem to slow, but it never stopped.

Another small service was held at the gravesite, and they stood in the

midst of a day where the sun was shining, a hint of spring and new life

was in the air, and they were burying her mother. It was unreal; she

wanted to scream for it to stop, there must've been a mistake, this

wasn't her mother--but she felt Buffy's arm go around her shoulder and

the sorrow overwhelmed her, letting her cry once again.

She caught a glimpse of Giles pulling her father away, while everyone

else hugged each other and left for their cars, some leaving for home

and others heading over to their house. Spike was right there, as he'd

been the entire time. The all-black wardrobe wasn't exactly like the old

Spike--a collared shirt rather than the T-shirt--but even so he seemed

more familiar this way. It was almost comforting.

Her father joined them last at the DeSoto, looking more pale and

perturbed than before. When she asked him what was wrong, he brushed it

off with a tentative smile and said everything was fine.

Buffy shared a look with Spike up in the front seat, one she couldn't

figure out, but he merely nodded and pulled away from the gravesite.

****

Whatever Giles had said to the man, Spike noted, it had apparently

worked. Buffy's eyes connected with his, the first time he'd seen relief

there in a long while. He shared that relief and nodded back, then

joined with the rest of traffic leaving the cemetery and headed for

home. Their home, he amended silently, not his.

People were already here, waiting for them on the porch. Xander and

Willow, with Anya and Tara, were clustered together as Buffy's aunt and

uncle were to one side, chatting with some cousin. They all went inside

and soon talking filled the quiet halls of the house, a joyous sound

compared the stillness he'd heard when they'd first come back from the

hospital. The cousin and aunt forbade Buffy from entering her own

kitchen, not wanting her to have to hassle with the food. Once reminded

that she needed to be the hostess, Buffy backed down and mingled with

the rest of group, waiting for the others to arrive.

Giles pulled Spike aside a short time later, away into a corner of the

living room that was unoccupied. He was curious as to what the Watcher

had to say, although he worried that his idle thought of Giles trying to

make him a Watcher was now going to become reality.

"I've been considering your current...status, Spike, and I feel I may

have a solution to some of the more pressing problems. Namely, legal

papers and the like. I've mentioned one idea to Buffy, and she approved

of it, so it's up to you if you want it. Well, it's ultimately up to the

Watchers' Council for approval, but I don't think they'd dislike the

idea."

"What is it?" He asked, growing somewhat impatient with Giles' drawn-out

phrases.

"Buffy needs someone to train her, at a level that I can't--physical

training, that is. She needs a live target, someone she can fight

against that's at the same strength level. Considering the fact that

you're still at the same--"

"I'll do it."

Giles blinked. "You don't mind, being a-a punching bag, per se?"

"It's to keep her at fighting trim, yeah? Why would I mind? Besides,

it's not like I wasn't her punching bag before this all happened," he

remarked, trying to keep the smile off of his face. That Giles had

thought of this all on his own was just too perfect.

The Watcher continued on, "Well, that--that's good. And, um, the Council

has very powerful ties to various, uh, organizations, so getting the

paperwork necessary for setting up an identity should be part of the

package."

"Package?"

"Well, um, payment, of course. For your...services." Spike was

completely floored. Getting paid for fighting and training Buffy? He

felt like he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming...wasn't he? "I'm sure

they'll insist on some sort of stipend, considering they also have one

for Buffy. They realize that the Slayer isn't the sort of person who can

hold down a normal job, and it's needed most when something happens to

the Slayer's parents. That's one other reason they try to--to keep the

identity of the Slayer a secret."

"To keep some Big Bad from using the parents against her. Makes sense.

It looks like these blighters have thought of everything." So that was

how she always had the cash to pay him. Not to mention the money to

spend on all that leather...

He shook those distracting thoughts aside, and focused back on Giles.

"If this all pans out, then I won't need to stay with anyone for very

long, right?"

"Yes, that's one of the bonuses of the whole plan," the older man smiled

mysteriously, then quickly sobered. "But I'm sure once I explain

your...special case, they won't hesitate to agree with me."

Spike got an uneasy feeling with the idea of informing a bunch of ponces

about his new situation, but in light of how powerful these Watchers

were, they might know already. "All right then. And I, um, have to thank

you for thinking of it. I know I'm not exactly the type of fellow you'd

want to help out, so...it's appreciated. And I'm sorry about, y'know,

being evil and everything before."

Giles didn't appear to know what to say to that. "Well, um, yes. That--

that's rather decent of you to say, I must admit. You do mean it, don't

you?"

The Watcher seemed a bit unsure, so Spike smiled as sincerely as he

could. And he *was* sincere. "Yeah, I do. I didn't do so well the first

time around as a human, and now I've got a chance to do it right. Now I

understand why Angel does what he does," he replied, feeling the

melancholy welling up again. Not wanting to appear so vulnerable in

front of Giles, he shrugged it away.

Something in Giles' countenance made him think he hadn't been entirely

successful, but if so, he never said a word about it. "By the way,

Spike, was Angel around anywhere, today? I didn't see him."

"Unlikely that you would, if he didn't want to be seen, but no--I didn't

see him, either. Maybe he took off, already."

"Maybe," Giles nodded, and took off his glasses to clean them. "He was a

bit upset last night. He thought maybe you'd fulfilled the prophecy

meant for him."

This was surprising news. "Angel has a prophecy? I thought that sort of

thing was reserved for the Slayer."

"It's for the vampire with a soul, which as I far as I know, can only

mean him. Apparently, the reward is to become human."

"Oh." No wonder Angel had been off, that night. "So he's thinking I took

his spot? That's silly, even for him. I didn't have a soul."

"True, but the chip acted in a similar fashion, and your capture by the

Initiative seemed to coincide with Angel leaving for Los Angeles. If he

was meant to stay here and fulfill it--"

"--then him leaving meant someone had to take his place. But, why not

just force him to come back here?"

"That's a good point," Giles relented. "Willow mentioned that to him,

although I don't think he accepted it. I think what bothered him the

most was that you kept your powers, and if the prophecy does end up with

him turning human, then most likely he won't."

"Yeah, that *would* bug him," Spike said thoughtfully. "He always has to

be in charge, on top of things." If Angel were human, it would've only

driven a wedge between him and Buffy, like it did with her and Riley. He

could never accept being unable to fight on her level.

This turn of events had given him an opportunity Angel would likely

never have. It was a humbling thought. "Giles, if you see him later,

tell him...tell him that I don't think he should be worried about what

some scroll or book says. If something's meant to be, it'll happen."

Giles nodded, and more people arrived just then, distracting them from

the conversation. He apparently recognized one of the bunch, and Spike

turned to see who it was.

Well, it was a couple of people, in truth. The two brunettes were

unmistakable, although the man was much more laid-back than he

remembered, and her hair was...very different. Cordelia and...Wesley,

was it?

Cordelia flitted around, enjoying the company of people she knew while

Wesley hung back, looking ill at ease. He spotted Giles and headed over,

keeping his eyes on the former vampire. After the normal pleasantries,

Wesley turned to Spike, obviously looking him over as a scientist would

for a lab specimen.

"It's a bit hard to believe, you turning human and all...but after what

I've experienced in LA, I probably shouldn't say that," Wesley remarked.

"How do you feel?"

"Genuinely miserable."

"Good," he replied with satisfaction. "You should. But try not to get

mopey like Angel. It's bad enough having one of him around."

Spike grinned. "Yeah, isn't it?"

"Cordelia wanted to talk to you about an idea of hers, and I'm forbidden

to speak to you about it because she's afraid I'll color your opinion."

"And you would, stuffy guy," a female voice piped up from behind Spike.

He turned and found Cordelia standing with her hands on hips, her

attitude subdued only out of respect for the present situation. "C'mon,

Spike, let's let the British guys talk--except uh, you're British, too,

but nevermind that," she amended, grabbing his arm and pulling him away.

He winced from the pain, but gritted his teeth.

"So what's this all about?" He asked once she'd taken him a good

distance away from the bulk of the others.

She glanced around for any possible eavesdroppers, then beamed with

enthusiasm. "There's this demon in LA that owns a club...well, it's

really more like a bar. But anyway, he has the ability to read someone's

soul and figure out what they're supposed to do with their lives. When I

heard what happened to you, I thought--hey! Here's someone who could use

some direction in their life."

"What's the catch?" Spike eyed her warily, knowing it couldn't be that

easy. At least, not with demon foreseers involved.

Her face fell. "You, uh, have to sing karaoke. That's the only way the

Host can see into your soul."

"The Host? Hold on, I think I remember a demon like that. Green skin,

red eyes, kind of a poofter?"

"The first two are right, the last...I don't know what poofter means,

but that's probably accurate. You know about him already?"

"Last time I was in LA, I heard he was scrounging around. But he was

calling himself Charlie back then. Didn't pay much attention to him,

since I didn't have a soul for him to read. So he owns a bar in LA,

now?" He mulled the idea over, then grinned. "Yeah, why not? Might as

well. But we'll have to do this after-hours, since I don't think his

clientele would be keen on seeing me there. Or rather, I'm not keen on

them seeing *me*."

"Gotcha. After hours, we can do. Just give me a call when you want to

come down, and I'll hook you two up. Uh, not that way!" she corrected

herself, when she saw the horrified look in his eyes.

"Bloody right, you aren't," he replied testily, and took the offered

business card from her hand. "That's the last sort of reputation I need,

at this point."

"Touchy, aren't we? Well, don't worry, I'll arrange everything. Now, I'm

off to mingle a bit more. See ya," she breezed over to where Willow and

Tara were standing.

Things were falling oddly into place, Spike noted, and tucked the card

into his pocket. Maybe all that stuff about the Powers was for real,

after all. Then he shook his head for even having such a silly thought.

****

A couple hours went by, and relatives and friends began to leave,

consoling Buffy and Dawn as they left. Buffy had been consumed with the

arrangements, but now as everything was coming to a halt, reality once

again set in.

Her mother was gone. She blinked away sudden tears as she hugged Willow,

Tara and Giles, the last ones to leave. Think about something else, how

pretty the sunset is, how cold it is outside. Willow waved good-bye, and

it took all of her strength not to start crying right then and there.

Dawn hugged her around the waist, leaning on her as they watched them

leave in Giles' car. Her father stood to one side, concerned for his two

daughters. Spike sat in the living room, trying to rest his legs since

he'd spent most of the day standing.

Her father coaxed Dawn away, telling her he needed to speak with her,

alone. Dawn looked to Buffy, and she gestured for her to on. She wasn't

sure how Dawn would take it, but it was for the best. Hopefully, Dawn

would see that.

Buffy walked over into the living room, and sat on the coffee table,

opposite Spike. They looked at each other, a bit dazed by it all. He

spoke first, breaking the pensive mood.

"How are you holding up?"

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm so sick of people asking me that. It's

all I heard today--How are you? It must be horrible, I don't know how

you can be so strong. I can't say 'I'm the Slayer, and my sister needs

me. I have to be strong'. But I feel anything but right now...my dad's

gonna leave, and then what? What happens next?"

He patted next to him on the couch, asking her to sit down next to him,

but she hesitated. "I don't--I don't think I can sit...there, right

now."

"You'll have to sometime, Buffy," he said quietly. She could tell he

wanted to help, but it was hard, not knowing what she needed. Taking a

deep breath, she lifted herself off the coffee table and sat down next

to him, on the far side of the couch. She leaned into him and put an arm

her, pulling her close. They stayed like that until she began to cry,

sobbing quietly.

It was several minutes later before she composed herself. It came almost

automatically, now, the hurt subsiding into a dullness. Someday that

dullness would leave, causing her to face her grief more head on, but

for now she was glad for it. Buffy wiped her eyes and noticed he'd

gotten teary-eyed, as well.

She looked at him questioningly, and he shook his head, almost

embarrassed. "I just miss her."

The sorrow in his voice almost caused her to start again, but she

managed to tamp the emotions down. "You know that sunset on the beach

that I promised you? How about we go right now?"

"Now? Are you sure?" He watched her in worry, possibly wondering if

she'd slipped around the bend.

She nodded. "I need to get out of the house, just for a little while.

And I want to do something other than wait here for the next wave of

grief to hit me."

He blew out a long breath, thinking it over, then said, "Well, if we're

going, we'd better hurry."

They both rose out off of the couch, nearly leaning on each other for

support. Buffy wrote a quick note to Dawn and her father, leaving it on

the kitchen counter, then followed Spike out to his car.

****

Aside from the occasional couple walking by, the beach was mostly

deserted this time of year. He'd never seen this beach except at night,

so the sight of the water shining like diamonds in the light of the sun

entranced him, a sight he'd last seen around 120 years ago. Clouds were

streaked with shades of purple and deep pink high above, while orange

strands decorated the horizon line. It was simply magnificent.

Buffy leaned against him while they sat on a bench, partly for warmth.

The temperature was still dropping, and soon the coats they had on

wouldn't be enough to stave off the chill, but it didn't matter.

He hated to break the mood, but he believed he should tell her about the

talk he'd had with Giles and Cordelia. She was happy for what Giles had

offered him, and ecstatic that it meant they could see each other

without it being too obvious. Buffy wasn't quite so sure on the demon

karaoke bar idea.

"Wait a minute. So what's this soul-reading? Is that like palm-reading?"

"Not quite," he smiled in amusement. "He sees what direction your life

is supposed to take when you sing. Which could be a bad thing, as well

as a good thing."

She wrinkled her brow. "How did Cordelia know about this?"

"I didn't ask. Although the thought of one of them up on stage..." he

grinned. "I'd pay to see Angel sing karaoke. That would be a laugh.

Wonder what he'd sing?"

"Be nice," Buffy scolded, then said, "He said he'd be back tonight, but

I didn't see him lurking around at all, today."

"Neither did I, but that might mean he's getting better at it." He

paused, not sure if he should ask the next logical question.

She beat him to it. "Seeing him yesterday was good, and it wasn't

painful, for the first time in forever. I'm glad he came, but if he took

off already, I don't feel sad about it."

He stifled a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good. Uh, right?"

She looked up, smiling. "Yeah, it's a good."

He smiled back, wondering if maybe it would be okay to bend the

friendly-only rules, just this once. But then Buffy turned away, and the

moment was lost. He wasn't too upset, though, since he planned to make

up for it later. When he healed up and Giles finalized all that

paperwork and stuff with the Watchers, their first training session

would be very interesting, indeed.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the last of the sunset. When

the sunlight dimmed enough that the frigid wing overpowered the

remaining warmth of the sun, Spike tugged Buffy up from the bench and

back to his old DeSoto, heading back to the house in case Angel did make

good on his promise.

He saw a flicker of movement from across the street, a dark silhouette

within the shadow cast from a beach shop. He felt his jaw tighten, not

able to sense the presence, but more than sure of the identity.

Buffy stalled, waiting for him to catch up. He focused back on her,

thinking that maybe things weren't as resolved as Angel said. Or maybe

it was a case of jealousy. How ironic would that be? A de-souled Angel

had taken Dru away from him, and now Spike, as a human with a soul, was

walking away with Buffy. It was such a twisted turn of events that it

lent Spike to think more about the possibility of interference from

above, since it played out as such as delightfully cruel cosmic joke.

****

It didn't take long for Angel to show up. True to form, his face was

dark and melancholy, consumed with too much reflection for his own good.

Once it had been appealing to Buffy, but now she only felt sad that he

was doomed to be perpetually unhappy--not due to any curse, but from his

own making.

She was sitting on the back porch, since Dawn and her father were

watching TV. She knew he would find her here, and he didn't disappoint.

"Buffy, I have to know something," he said without preamble, walking up

to her as she sat on the top of the short flight of stairs leading up to

the porch.

"Is 'hello' no longer in your vocabulary?" She replied wearily, and he

noted it with a grimace and a shake of the head.

"Sorry. Hello, nice night we're having. There, now the pleasantries are

over. Are you in love with Spike?"

Her eyes widened, both at the sharp tone to his voice and the question.

"Where is this coming from? You said you were okay with it."

"I know. This isn't about us. It's about how you feel. You're not doing

this because you feel sorry for him or something, is it?"

"What??" The word came out a little louder than she wanted, but it was

too late to worry about it now. "Do you really think that I--that I'd

just hook up with someone because I felt pity for them? I thought you

knew me better than that."

He shrugged, his face downcast. "I got myself into a similar situation,

once. It took me to a place I had no right to go, and it only ended up

hurting a lot of people. I don't want you going down that same path."

"What do you think, that Spike's going to end up turning evil again, or

something?"

"Well, no...but maybe, your feelings for him aren't as strong as his."

Buffy took in a deep breath, feeling a totally different pain, now. "I

know more about that than you know. But this is different. I asked for

the month so we didn't rush into anything, and he agreed to it. It

hasn't been easy, but we're doing this the way it needs to be done, so

that it isn't...what you're talking about.

"But as for your original point--Do I love him?" She thought back on

the past few days, being with him in the crypt, seeing him at the

warehouse and the long ride to the hospital, then waiting for news on

his condition. When he'd kissed her, it felt like she'd waited years for

it, even as the level of her desire surprised her. His presence in the

house had been a comfort, and she'd started to fall for him on a

completely different level.

She looked back to Angel, who was waiting for an answer. Buffy swallowed

the dryness in her throat and replied, "I think I'm falling in love with

him, yes. And it's scary when I think about it. But with Riley, I never

let it get messy, or scary--I was too afraid of getting hurt again." A

pained expression crossed Angel's face, since he knew exactly what she

was talking about. "But it's not going to be that way with Spike."

"I...I just wanted to know," Angel answered, his own voice sounding a

bit choked. "It's good that you can feel that way."

She knew what he didn't say--'because I can't'. Giving him a reassuring

smile, she got up and hugged him, grateful that their feelings for each

other had never turned to hate. He hugged her back, the sadness lifting

for a moment, then it descended once again when she pulled away.

A rueful look crossed his face just before he spoke. "You know that even

if I did become human, it would never have worked out."

Before, she might have denied it. But time had given her enough

perspective to hear the truth in his words. "I know. You told me that

your love for me was what put you on the right path, and now I think it

wasn't necessarily supposed to be any more than that. Pursuing it only

ended up hurting ourselves and others."

There wasn't anything he could say to that. He knew what had happened,

the same as her. "I don't regret our time together, Buffy."

"I don't, either." Amazingly, she didn't feel any pain when remembering

their shared past. It was a fond memory, but it no longer caused the

sadness it once did.

She sensed the same from him, and he gave her a pale smile. They said

nothing for a while, then he stepped away and she watched him go,

another chapter ending in her life.

Buffy sat on the stoop for several minutes, and eventually Spike came

out to find her. She beckoned him to sit down next to her and he did,

the scenario not unlike one they'd shared only a few months ago.

"I saw Angel take off," Spike commented off-handedly, but there was a

worried undertone to his voice.

The fact that he sounded worried proved to her that he hadn't listened

in. But he might have watched, she realized with growing dread. "Angel

and I are in the past tense, Spike. I think I told you that already."

He swallowed visibly, "He's always been the love of your life, though.

And I guess I can understand--"

"Spike, he was my first love, and I'll always remember that. But I don't

love him that way anymore. I have something else now, and I think it's

got potential."

He smiled softly, as her meaning dawned on him. "Potential, huh?"

"Yeah, lots of potential. It's potent with potential." She felt herself

leaning toward him a little, not much but he took the hint. He leaned in

to complete the move, but the back door opened before much else could

happen. Two people have never pulled apart from each other faster than

they did. From the quietness of the approach, it had to be Dawn.

She was right. "Buffy, there you are--oh, woah. Sorry, did I interrupt a

smoochy moment?"

"We were talking," Buffy replied, faking a smile. "Friendly talking,

that's all."

Spike wiped a sour look off his face--or tried to--and added, "Yeah,

just...talking."

The comment didn't help. If anything, it only amused Dawn more. "Sure,

fine. Whatever. Did Angel show?"

"Yes, he showed," Buffy answered, and stood up from the stoop. "But

that's all you're gonna find out tonight. Let's go back into the house."

She ushered Dawn in, and Spike came up behind her while her sister

wasn't looking. He leaned down and whispered affectionately in her ear,

"Don't think this is over, pet. All I need is one good day."

She shivered, but not in fear--far from it, in fact. "In your dreams,

Spike," she said playfully, and felt his hand trail down her back in a

maddeningly light touch.

"Oh, no problem there," he grinned, leaving her with nothing to say that

her sister couldn't overhear. But it was all moot, since Dawn had turned

to watch.

They paused, and Dawn crossed her arms. "What? You think I haven't

noticed? Hello--I'm fourteen, I'm not *blind*."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy tried to cover, her manner and

tone all convincing innocence.

"Please, Buffy. I'm your sister." Dawn's confident gaze shook Buffy's

calm veneer. "You two have been all over each other. I'm practically

bathing in your hormones."

Buffy meant to offer a denial, but Spike touched her shoulder and shook

his head. Even he knew when he'd been beaten by a teenager. Frowning,

she replied instead. "You can't tell anyone, and I mean *anyone*. Not

Dad, or the gang, or Giles."

"Why not? Is it some big secret?" She scoffed, then it hit her. "It *is*

a secret!"

"Just for now," Buffy added quickly. "Please don't tell anyone. It's for

their benefit, and ours. Now isn't the best time for...things like this.

You understand, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. But does this mean Spike is staying?" Dawn asked

brightly. Buffy shook her head, and Dawn's face fell. "Oh. Well, that's

all right. Buffy and I can do just fine by ourselves."

"I'm sure you can," Spike spoke up. "But I'll be around, niblet."

Dawn gave him a half-smile. "I think you need a new nickname for me,

Spike. That one's a little outdated."

"I know that, I just haven't thought of a new one yet," he replied

defensively. "'Sides, you're taller than Buffy, now."

Dawn laughed at the outraged look on her sister's face. "You shouldn't

have said that, Spike. Now she knows."

"Hey, I'm perfectly proportioned," Buffy argued, then smiled when she

noticed the grin on Dawn's face. It had been too long since she'd seen

genuine happiness from her younger sister. She felt Spike's arm around

her waist, a bit too close for their agreement, but she didn't mind.

"That you are, pet. I wouldn't have you any other way," he said, as Dawn

grimaced.

"Oh, yuck. Now you're getting mushy. I'm outta here," Dawn turned and

left the kitchen, leaving them behind in her wake.

"Now there's a useful bit of info," Spike said after a moment. "I turn

sappy, and she leaves."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah right. If we're lucky, that'll last

for, oh, three months?"

"I was hoping for two." He gave her a peck on the cheek, mindful of the

deal they'd made, and pulled away. "C'mon, Slayer. Let's veg out in

front of the telly."

Impulsively, she grabbed his hand, and he stopped, looking at her in

confusion. She knew he could hear her heart beating faster than normal,

and his concern showed plainly in his face. "Spike...there's something I

want to tell you, but it's going to have to wait for a month. Can you

remind me to tell you?"

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you now. Ask me in a month, okay?"

He nodded, still confused but no longer worried. Maybe he suspected the

truth, but if he did, he never said it. Spike squeezed her hand gently,

and she returned it before letting go. Buffy followed him into the

living room and joined the rest of the family there.

A peaceful calm presence fell on her as she sat on the floor, the

sensation of warm arms wrapping around her shoulders, and she blinked

back tears. A hint of her mother's perfume drifted in the air, and she

smiled in recognition, the first time something of her mother's hadn't

made her turn weepy.

Buffy looked to Dawn, who watched her back with the same smile.

Her younger sister felt it, too. Their mother was still there in a

sense, just as she said she would, and Buffy felt a huge weight lifted

from her. And she knew at that moment that eventually, everything was

going to be all right.

End.

****