Another Way

By Jackie Abbott

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Whedon and Co.
Timeline: Season 6 Post-6.2, AU after that. The herd trio never existed here.
Summary: A short time after Buffy comes back, she decides to tell Spike the truth. After they're together, everything goes great but it’s all ruined when she's taken...
Distribution: Post it with a link back to me and it's yours!

Notes: I wrote the outline for the first eight chapters to this in half hour while I was watching The Wedding Planner on TNT. That's how I know a story is going to come to me easily, I can write the notes easily. Go, read, have fun, sign the guest book.

Taking the gauze in his shaking hands, he gently holds her smaller one in his as he starts to wrap it around her bruised and broken skin. He briefly glances up into her bewildered face, her eyes are wide and she looks scared half out of her mind. He doesn't remember much about being dead, but he does remember waking up and feeling very out of place. His body hadn't felt like it belonged to him, and the world seemed overly loud to his fledgling ears.

Damn those Scooby’s and their highhanded ways, Spike thinks angrily. They’d shut him out again, even after all summer with his help; they still shut him out when they were bringing back Buffy. After all, they’d been through this summer, and Glory before that, and they still shut him out…

Shaking his head, he places the medical tape over the last loose end of the gauze and looks up into her wide hazel eyes as she stares at him. This isn’t the time to be thinking about the Scooby’s, his Slayer is back and that’s all that matters. Her hands feel warm and soft within the grasp of his and he thrills at the contact. She doesn’t pull away or flinch when they look straight into each other eyes.

He reaches out and sweeps a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She’s in a clean white blouse and something dark covering her lower half. It doesn’t really matter, though; he has her here, right in front of him.

He’s not sure how long, but they sit there and stare into each other’s eyes until the rest of the Scooby’s show up after being chased around by those demons. Now that the Slayer is back in the flesh, less then a whole night, the town is already settling down.

Spike gets up and moves away as the Scooby’s crowd in and around her. He notices that she pulls away from them. They get too close. They don’t let her come to them, Spike thinks as he stands back and watches the interaction.

Shaking his head, he moves to the door. Looking over his shoulder, he gets one last look at Buffy before he heads out the door. His eyes lock briefly with hers and then he closes the door, cutting off the stolen look.

Patrols always seem to take forever, but this is just ridiculous, to say the least.

Walking around the cemetery at one in the morning isn’t Buffy’s idea of fun in the sun… well moon. She frowns. That doesn’t work very well, does it? She asks herself.

This is so boring, she thinks as she comes to a new grave.

Crossing her legs, she sits down in front of the fresh grave and waits. It shouldn’t be long. Her mind wanders as she just sits there. It still feels surreal to be back after all this time. When to her, the events seemed to have happened only a week ago, which is when she got back; it’s been three and a half months for the rest of the gang.

She can only imagine what they must have gone through. When she first got back, the gang had kept questioning her about whether she had gone to heaven or if the opening had thrown her into a hell dimension. She couldn’t and still can’t answer either of those questions. She simply can’t remember.

It’s like waking up from a sound sleep with no memory of what took place but just a vague sense of peace. That’s the only thing she can remember. It’s the only way she can think of to describe it.

Sighing, she raises her eyebrow as she looks at the tombstone looming over the grave. It has details engraved on it of a man that will never have a family or life after tonight. As she stares at it, she thinks it odd that she never pays attention to the names of the new vampires.

It’s like a wild animal getting familiar with the prey it hunts….

Shrugging, she turns her gaze up to the sky. The night is clear without a moon insight and bright twinkling stars overhead. It’s unbelievable that she’s back. This makes the second time she’s died.

In a way, she feels relieved, the not knowing. She thinks, no, has a good feeling that she wouldn’t be able to deal. It’d be too hard to be back here and really know how harsh it is here. After seeing her mother again and then being dragged out of there. That would just be mean. She’d probably end up hating everyone, including and most of all, herself.

Before she had died, her mind had come up with all sorts of things she would do after Glory was defeated. She had wanted to take a different approach with Dawn and see if that helped with her distaste for… whatever it was truly directed at.

And most of all, she’d wanted to have a heart to heart with Spike. Before her death - that still sounds strange - things between them had been different. They’d actually started to become friends… Well, after the shock of the bot. That still wigs her out to no end. The thought of him and that… thing… She shakes her head. It’s just disgusting is what it is.

Her feelings after that had started to change when she learned that he’d almost gotten himself killed to protect Dawn. That he hadn’t told Glory what Dawn is. She had kept her mouth shut when the gang had started in on him after that. Which was no different from any other time, unless she was the one to start it.

Her heart had planned some things of it’s own for after that battle. Even as her brain and her slayer side protested, she had wanted to tell him the truth. The pretests that came up with those feelings, she realizes now, were from her denial. She knows that now.

As she sits there, letting her emotions roll back over her, she realizes that life, even when you keep being brought back, is too short to be worried about consequences, especially when it’s your heart’s happiness that may be lying on the line.

She’s drawn from her thoughts when a wooden groan sounds from the ground. Looks like she’s going to have company tonight after all.

Standing up, she takes a step closer and waits as the vampire pulls himself up out of the ground. She smiles as he straightens and then suddenly stills. “Hi, have a nice nap?”

He stares blankly at her. His eyes are wide.

“It sure was shorter then mine.” She says as she takes another step closer.

“But you’re supposed to be dead?” He asks incredulous.

“How do you know that already?” She asks. A frown forms between her brows. “You were just made. You know, some times that can be way creepy.”

The vampire spreads his arms, as if in invitation. Then says, “Get it over with already.” His voice is bored.

Her mouth drops open as her eyes widen. “You’ve go to be joking?”

Through his ridges, the vampire glares at her.

“Ok!” She says as she steps forward and stakes him. “I don’t even know why I was arguing.”

Dusting her hands off, she decides she’s had enough of this. It’s time to go home. She turns and starts to head that way.

“I see the vampires are just giving up now,” a familiar voice says somewhere from behind her. “No work required. I wish my job was that easy.”

She turns with a small smirk on her face. “Riley. What brings you to town?” She asks as he jogs up to her.

For an instant, a frown crosses her features. When he left, after telling her to give more of herself or he was leaving, she thought it would hurt to see him again. Maybe it would if the circumstances were different, but now… There’s an absence of feeling, not even a pang. It surprises her. She’s glad to see Riley, but that is as far as any emotion goes toward him.

He looks different, dressed all in black and some visible scaring. A bad scar on his face is the most noticeably different thing about him. The scar is puckered and runs the left length of his face. It goes from his hairline to his jaw line. He looks older than he ever had.

“I came here to see how you were.” He says and pauses. “And to apologize for how I left things,” his voice is quieter on this note.

“There’s no need. And I’m fine.” She says. She suddenly has an insight.

“What happened after I left?” He asks gently.

“Lets see…” she says, almost ticking the things off on her fingers. “I found out Dawn is a mystical key, my mom died from a brain tumor, and I defeated a hell god.” She says. “Oh, and I died then came back a week ago.”

“Wow!” He says appearing truly awed as he looks away.

“Yeah,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” he says, meeting her eyes again.

“It’s all good… well except for my mom.”

It’s really too bad she hadn’t realized this before. Her thoughts turn back to her insight as Riley and her fall silent. He had been right. Spike, that is.

She keeps him on the right road. Shown by the promise he kept this summer. Or, she has no doubt that he would’ve left for some nowhere, drank himself into a stupor and stayed that way as long as he was able. The chip has nothing to do with it now. It’s his desire, and his love for her that helps to keep him from doing what other vampires can’t.

“I was wondering,” Riley’s voice draws her out of her thoughts.

“What’s that?” She says, prompting him to continue.

“Are you seeing anyone?” His words are a rush of sound.

“I hope to be,” she says, seeing hope dawn in his eyes. “I haven’t told him how I feel yet.” Her words are spoken softly. She watches as realization kills his hope. He knows she isn’t talking about him.

“I see,” he says. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“I hope he sees it that way.”

“He’s crazy if he doesn’t.” He says, implying that he realizes a mistake he made. “Walk you home?”

“Sure,” Buffy answers with a smile.

The panic she feels when she gets home drives the point home even further. There really is no time like now.

She stares down at Spike as he lies on his back. He looks paler than normal with black shadows under his eyes, and blood darkening the black shirt he wears. Two bolts are standing in him like telephone poles. They’re both on his left side, one high up on his shoulder and the other one is in his pectoral muscle.

“What happened?” Buffy demands of Dawn and Willow as she pulls her coat from her shoulders and arms. While she waits, she grabs her first aide kit and some towels from the kitchen. She comes back into the living room with her supplies. “Well?” She demands again.

“We’re not sure,” Willow finally answers. “There was this bang at the door. When we opened it, he fell in as he passed out and hasn’t woke since.”

“Ok,” she says as she sits down on the coffee table and starts to set up. “Dawn, it’s past your bed time.”

“But I want to help.” Dawn whines.

“I know, Dawnie,” Buffy says as she looks up. “But it’s a school night. Besides,” she continues as she sees the protests stretching out for miles. “Spike wouldn’t want you staying up past your bed time. I’ve heard the stories.”

Dawn frowns. She knows Dawn doesn’t like it when she uses that ploy. “Fine.” She says as she storms up the stairs.

“Willow, will you get me some hot water?” Buffy asks as she moves over Spike.

“Sure,” Willow says as she moves to the kitchen.

Buffy lifts up one of his arms and slides her arm under him. Slowly, she pulls him up into a sitting position. Very carefully, she takes his duster off. Laying him back gently on the couch, she takes his duster in her hands and holds it up. She pears through the two holes on the shoulder of the coat, “He’s not going to be happy about this,” she says as she lays it aside.

Taking the medical scissors, she starts to cut his black shirt away from his chest and torso. I wonder how he takes care of the other holes, she wonders as she realizes that the thing isn’t Swiss cheese.

“How are you going to get those bolts out of him?” Willow asks as she comes back in and sets a big bowl of water and a washcloth on the table next to Buffy.

“Very carefully,” she says as she stands. She looks down at Spike, trying not to think past the moment. Her eyes turn to Willow. “I’m going to need your help.”

“What can I do?” She asks.

Buffy picks up two of the hand towels she had brought with and hands them to Willow. “When I pull out the bolts, you need to immediately cover the wounds.”

Stepping up to the couch, the two women look down at the unconscious Spike. Raising a knee, Buffy lays it on the center of his chest and wraps her hand around the bolt in his pectoral muscle. The hardest of the bolts to pull out with all the muscle that surrounds it. With her free hand, she holds down his shoulder.

“Ready?” She asks Willow.

“Ready.” As the word leaves her mouth, Buffy jerks and pulls the bolt from his chest. She barely sees blood start to well when there’s a towel being pressed over the wound.

After putting the bolt on the table, she quickly removes the second one. Again, the wound disappears under a white towel. “Thanks Will.”

“You’re welcome,” she says as she lets Buffy take over. “If you don’t need my help anymore, I need to get to bed.”

“No. Go ahead.” Buffy says without looking up.

He wakes briefly as she’s cleaning him, but quickly passes out again when he realizes he’s here. With her. She realizes, as he passes out again, that he could’ve died tonight, and never have known what she wants to tell him.

The bleeding in his shoulder stops first. Beings that he’s a vampire, she just uses butterfly bandages to pull the wound closed. Next, she dresses the wound with gauze and tapes it down. All after she had disinfected the wound, or any disinfecting help that he needs.

The wound in his pectoral muscle is another story. It seems to bleed forever. No matter what she tries, the wound refuses to stop bleeding or start healing to steam the flow. To sum things up, the wound is being a pain in more ways then one.

An idea comes to her as she presses a soaked towel to the wound. Putting another over that, she gets up and hurriedly moves into the kitchen. Grabbing a bowel, she digs hand full after hand full of ice out of the freezer. Finally satisfied that she has enough, she moves back into the living room.

She’s going to make that wound stop bleeding if it takes her the rest of the night.

Boy, is he going to be hungry when he wakes up.

Removing one of the towels, she places the bowel of ice on the wound. Taking some of it from the bowel, she places it at the base of the bowel and pushes some of it under the towel. “I sure hope this works.”

As time moves by, she plays with the ice, never finding a satisfactory place for all the pieces. Her hope fades a little at the sight of some watered down blood marking a trail down his chest and rolls of his side to stain the couch. Good thing it’s already a red color.

Her hands stop over him as he jerks suddenly. She feels his hand move against her stomach and looks down at him. His eyes are barely open but she can tell he’s awake. “Buffy?” His voice is rough and sounds as if from far away.

“It’s ok Spike, go back to sleep. I’ll take care of you.” She says gently as she puts her hand in his searching one.

He tries to talk but she stops. “No, tell me when you’re feeling better. Now go back to sleep. You’ll be fine.” He continues to stare at her for the longest time. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

His body gives up on him and he’s forced into slumber once again. She stares at him for a long while. Wondering what happened to him, how he could still want to be around them after the way they’ve treated him for his help, and what had he been looking for or saw just now.

Shaking her thoughts away, she returns her attention back to his stubborn wound. She’s glad to find that it’s finally stopped bleeding but some of the ice has melted. Removing the ice and towel, she decides that this one needs stitches.

Fetching some medical thread and a household needle, she returns to his side. “A slayer’s house and we don’t even have a medical needle.” She shakes her head.

She blows out a breath as the thread finally goes through on the third try. “Damn small eye,” she mutters as she leans over him.

She’s glad he’s out for this part. Breathing in and then out, she sets to work and neatly closes the wound. Feeling drawn and drained, she dresses the wound and breathes a sigh of relief.

Feeling more tired then she can remember, she lies her head down on his good shoulder. She doesn’t rouse herself as she almost immediately starts drifting off to sleep.

Too comfortable to move, she thinks.

Spike comes awake with a double knife of pain through the right side of his chest and shoulder. Keeping his eyes closed, he clenches his teeth and waits through the pain. As it starts to ebb, his jaw slowly starts to unwind. His senses come back then. And with it, so does last night…. Or however long ago it was.

Buggers, he thinks as he starts to move, but then he suddenly stills. More pain shoots through his chest and shoulder. He stills further as he feels a stirring near his side that isn’t him. Warmth radiates from that spot and as he listens, other things start to come into focus. And his pain starts to fade. Soft breathing echoes through his ears, even as a heartbeat throbs through his body.

Opening his eyes, he looks down to his right and his eye widen. For there, at his side, Buffy is sitting on the floor with her head resting on the couch. A little smile curves her lips as she sleeps. Amazing, how she looks so peaceful when she’s a sleep. When she’s awake… She’s driving the demon world crazy.

Lifting his left arm cautiously, he runs his hand lightly over her golden locks. When she presses into his touch, he feels his chest clench, which then causes a twinge of pain to course through his left side. He has to pull his hand away and lay it at his side.

Suddenly she jerks up, causing him to grunt loudly as he jerks as well. Her eyes are wide as she looks at him. “You’re awake,” she states the obvious. The she notices his glare. “Are you ok?”

“I was bloody shot in the chest and shoulder with wooden blots, how do you think I am?” He asks sarcastically.

“Ok,” she says raising her hands. “Sorry I asked.” She stands and starts cleaning up the living room.

Feeling like an asshole, and a git besides, he reaches out and grabs her wrist. She stills and waits. “Sorry love. It’s the pain. Makes me…”

“Grumpy?” She provides.

“Yeah.” He says, dropping his hold on her wrist.

She looks down at him, and her stance relaxes. She watches him a long while. Not even flinching away when he meets her gaze. The moment feels frozen in some sense. Finally, she says, “What happened to you last night?”

He growls slightly and rolls his eyes before he meets her gaze again. “Those damn commandos are back. They tried catching me again.”

Nodding her head, she says, “That explains it.”

He frowns. “How’s that?”

“Oh, I saw Riley last night. I guess now that he was a distraction. I was heading home just as he came up to me.” She explains.

“That would make sense.” He says feeling the bottom of his stomach fall away.

“That means I have to get the commandos out of Sunnydale again. I can understand killing demons,” she says as she goes back to cleaning the living room. “But torturing them makes the commandos just as bad as the demons themselves.”

He breathes his relief and settles back into the couch. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m not sure.” She says as she pauses in picking up a bowl with red tainted water in it. “I think I’ll try finding Riley and see what he knows. Maybe he’ll be willing to give some info.” She then goes back to cleaning the living room.

Even if Buffy is going to help keep him away from the commandos, she’s going to try to find Riley. That doesn’t settle well with him. She’s willing to go find him, and then there are possibilities for things.

Her stuff all gathered she turns back to him. “Rest as much as possible.” Then she turns and goes into the kitchen, leaving him alone.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. Knowing that rest is going to be the last thing on his mind.

* * *

That night, Buffy lies in bed on her back, staring up at the ceiling. So many times, she had tired to tell him. It was one thing or another that stops her. Either she chickened out or someone had come barging in and dashing her nerves.

Which brings to mind a question: how is something that should be easy to say, should make the other person happy to hear, be so difficult to say?

At the knock on her door, she says, “Come in.”

Dawn comes in with a sleepy smile.

“Another bad dream sweetie?” Buffy asks. The sleepy Dawn nods her head slowly. Lifting the edge of the covers, she lets Dawn under the blankets.

The only reason she can some up with is the fact that she’s been in denial all this time. Now she feels like a big hypocrite. She sighs heavily.

* * *

It’s a couple of nights later that finds Buffy patrolling the cemeteries again, as usual. “If anyone ever gets an award for most mundane job, I think I should win.” Buffy mutters to herself.

“Maybe you could get a loan.” Comes Spike’s voice from her left as he falls in beside her, easily keeping in stride.

She frowns. “For what?”

“Put a panel of judges together.” He says with a smirk.

He frown disappears. Nodding her head in a sarcastic way, she says, “Cute,” with just as much sarcasm.

“I know,” he says with a straight face. She shoves him on his good shoulder and he laughs out. “The birds can’t resist.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly as they resume they’re walk.

“Have any luck?”

“What?” She says, thinking that she had somehow given herself away. Now she knows how dears feel when they get caught in headlights.

“Finding White Bread?” Spike asks.

“No,” she says, sighing in relief. She slowly shakes her head. Then stops. Turning to him as he stops, she frowns. “Who?”

“Soon you’re going to get to when,” Spike says. He’s enjoying himself way too much. “Captain Cardboard? Fin?” He adds when she keeps looking at him dumbfounded.

“Oh! Oh, no. He seems to have disappeared. And I don’t find any sighs of any more commandos. Who knows where they could be.” She says, her words ending in a heavy sigh.

“No worries love,” he says as they start to walk again. “If anything, you could just offer to join up again.”

She laughs at that. “Not again in this life time… or the next,” she adds.

“Don’t blame ya.” He says quietly.

They both enjoy the comfortable silence that settles between them. It isn’t very often that they’re alone to actually have silence between them. Since she’s been back, the Scooby’s didn’t seem inclined to leave them alone. Although, Buffy has the feeling that they’re not doing it on purpose.

“Where have all the vampires gone?” Buffy says. Then looks at Spike as he turns to her. They laugh at the same time. “Sounds like a really bad musical.”

In the past few days, they’ve been going on patrol together. Or, to be more exact, Buffy would go on patrol and a couple hours in to it, Spike would happen by. She likes that he comes by to help. It isn’t so lonely.

After a while of walking, Spike asks, “How’s Little Bit adjusting?”

“She’s doing better. She doesn’t have nightmares every night now.” Buffy says. They walk around a tombstone as they make their way through the quiet grounds.

“That’s good,” Spike replies quietly.

“How’s your shoulder?” She asks quietly, hoping she’s not giving herself away in some fashion.

“It isn’t as sore. I was able to take the stitches out last night.” He says, “Nice job, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she says.

Why is it so hard? The question has been going through her mind for the past half week. And it’s driving her insane. She needs to tell him. Tell him, her mind screams. There will never be a better chance to do so. Dot it. “Now.”

“Did you say something love?” Spike asks with his scared brow raised.

Nodding, she says, “Yes. I said now.”

He stops and turns to her. She’s been acting a little weird of late. At first, he had thought that it was the suddenness of being back, again. But he had watched her around the Scoobs and she was her usual self. It’s just around him. “What ‘now’?” He asks as a frown forms between his brows. “You’ve been acting a little weird pf late. What’s going on with you, love?”

“I…” mumbles of half pronounced words and groans follow. “You… there…” And again with the mumbles and she’s looking at her feet.

“Buffy… Buffy…” He has to say her name twice before she finally looks up and stops mumbling. “I caught three words, ‘I’, ‘you’, and ‘there’. Now, slower and looking at me, what did you say?” The birds nervous about something, he thinks.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and… I just realized that speeches are nice but this…” She briefly looks at her fidgeting hands and then back at him. “Before I died, I fell in… love… with you.” Her voice hitches on the word but it’s a good thing. “I love you Spike,” she says with more… need, and conviction.

“You… you aren’t being cruel are you?” He asks quietly. His ears are burning and ringing. His head is buzzing.

“No,” she says as quietly as he had asked his question. She stares at him as his eyes bore into her.

Buffy squawks and then grunts as she’s suddenly knocked to the ground. Her surprised sounds turn to a moan as he brushes his cool lips over hers. The kiss is questioning but there all the same. As he goes to pull away, she follows him and kisses him back. She smiles into the kiss as he growls.

A shiver works through her as his fingers thread through her hair. He gently holds her head to him as he deepens the kiss.

* * *

After a vampire had attacked them in the cemetery, they had decided it was better to go to Buffy’s house.

Buffy’s hands move down Spike’s pale white back. Her fingers tingle as his muscles and shoulders roll under them. A sigh escapes her as Spike leans up and trails kisses along her neck only to stop at her shirt’s collar. She wonders slightly at the fact that he doesn’t take it off of her.

Running his hand up her side, his body comes alive as she shivers but moves closer to him. Laying his head back down on the pillow, he kisses her forehead and then her nose. He sighs as she comes up off her side and takes his mouth.

The kiss is a slow play of lips and tongues. As her tongue retreats, he follows and explores her mouth as she had his.

Buffy breaks the kiss swallowing. She starts breathing heavily as she looks sleepily at him. He combs the hair back from her lovely, flushed face and smiles, genuinely.

“Spike?” She asks quietly.

“Yes, love?”

“Are you going to make love to me?” Her voice is still quiet.

“I thought about it, but I decided to wait.” He says and then laughs. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very cute when you pout?”

“No. If they would’ve, I’d have threatened them with bodily harm.” She says as she lies back.

Spike laughs again. Pushing up onto his elbow, he says, “Well, you are.”

“Why not?” She asks, ignoring his statement.

“Because, if this is a dream, I want to make it last as long as I can.” Spike says as he leans closer. When he’s close enough, he gently takes her earlobe between his lips and worries it with his teeth.

She turns her body more into his. “This isn’t a dream,” she whispers reassuringly.

“I hope like hell it isn’t,” he whispers in her ear. As he goes back to her ear, she turns and catches his mouth with hers.

They break apart however as the bedroom door comes open. “Buffy?” Dawn’s sleepy voice reaches their ears. Buffy looks at him questioningly. He barely nods his head to indicate that he doesn’t mind.

Turning so the he’s spooning her back, she lifts the covers. “Come on Dawnie.”

Still half asleep, Dawn crawls in beside Buffy. Almost immediately, she’s back asleep and snoring. “It’s a good thing I have a queen sized bed now.” Buffy hears Spike chuckle behind her.

His hand comes up and turns her chin to him. He kisses her, once, twice, deep and long, and then again. “Night love.” He kisses her once more.

Sighing, she says, “Night.” Then she settles back into his chest and slumber soon follows.

Disentangling herself from her two bed companions, she silently moves into the bathroom. Quietly, she pushes the door to, and moves to the toilet. She barely suppresses a hiss as she sits on the cold toilet. Need o get a seat warmer, she thinks with shudder.

No sooner had she finished and washed her hands then a scream come from her room. Turning, she jerks the door open and runs into her room. And stops.

The sight that greets her would have her on the floor, hugging her sides, but Dawn is still screaming. Dawn is standing at the foot of the bed, near the window, and letting out small screams. Spike is still in bed bear chested with rumpled hair. He is half sitting up with blurry eyes. He’s squinting against the light shinning through the curtains.

“Little Bit,” Spike says, “Bloody hell, quit that screaming. You’re hurting my ears.” At the sound of his voice, she stops in mind scream and stares wide-eyed at him.

“Spike?” Her voice is nothing but a squawk.

“Yes.” He drops down on the bed and covers his eyes with his forearm.

“How… why…” Dawn sputters on for a while.

Buffy laughs and tries to explain.

Meanwhile, Spike gets up and heads for the bathroom. On the way, he stops and kisses Buffy on the forehead, saying, “Morning Love.”

While Spike takes a shower, the two girls calm down and Buffy is able to tell Dawn why Spike was in bed with them. To say the least, Dawn is happy. After getting dressed, the two head downstairs to start the day.

“What do you want Dawnie?”

“Just some cereal. I’m too excited to eat anything else.” Dawn says as she bounces on the stool.

Buffy smirks and shakes her head. Turning to the fridge, she gets out the milk and begins to get her sister’s cereal ready.

“Why did it take you so long?” Dawn asks.

“I wish I knew.” Buffy mutters as she turns and gives Dawn her breakfast. Then getting out two cups, she turns and stares blankly at the coffee machine.

“Hey Dawnster.” Xander says as he comes into the kitchen. “Morning Buff.”

“Hey,” Dawn says, the coffee machine finally done.

“Hey Buffy what’s the second cup for?” Xander asks hopefully.

Buffy looks up happily but the shinning smile is meant for whose behind Xander. He suddenly gets the feeling he doesn’t want to know.

“Spike.” She says, finally finding her voice.

Xander is sputtering now as Spike comes around him and takes the cup from her hands. “Thanks Love.” He says quietly. But what happens next horrifies Xander even as Spike leans down and brushes his lips over Buffy’s.

He waits for it… but she doesn’t hit him… She brings Spike’s head down for another one, and another one. Xander is speechless. This can’t be happening. This can’t be…

Spike briefly spares the whelp a glance but quickly turns him attention back to the golden goddess next to him. “You got any blood about the place, would you love?”

She grimaces. “No, sorry.”

He shrugs and takes a drink from his cup. “No worries mate. I’ll just have to pick some up later.”

Spike, Buffy, and Dawn’s attention are all drawn to Xander when he starts asking, “How… why… when?”

“He sounds like me,” Dawn says.

* * *

Their week was amazing. At night, they would go out and slay vampires together and then go home and make out for hours on end. It tortured them both but it was such sweet torture.

That’s what could’ve prompted the gang of vampires to attack; them working together and getting so many vampires in such a short time. Looking at it this way, it isn’t surprising. The fight between them and the gang last well after their normal patrol time. They are so many vampires. Close to the end of the fight, there is a close call when Buffy loses her stake to vampire.

To make a long story short, the vampire went to dust after its head was ripped from its body by a very irate vampire by the name of Spike.

Walking up the stairs, Spike looks up Buffy’s back as she leads the way. His hands on her hips, he pulls her to a stop and turns her around. She’s looking at him questioningly. He steps up another stair and brings their lips and eyes level. “I love you Buffy.”

“I love you Spike.” She whispers, her question answered.

Spike leans in and captures her lips. The kiss is wet and hot. The kiss leaves Buffy light headed and heated. She gasps as he briefly breaks the kiss to take her month another way. A little overwhelmed, she lets her head fall back. And gasps as Spike laves her throat with a long lick.

“Spike?” Her voice is a husky whisper. “Make love to me.” Her voice hitches as his lips and teeth move over her collarbone.

For a long time, he continues to nibble on her collarbone and throat. Buffy’s growing frustration ebbs when Spike pulls her pelvis forward and thrusts his erection into her. “Lets take a shower.” He says suddenly as he takes her hands and spins her around.

They’re coat’s left on their bed; Spike pulls her into the bathroom and shuts the door. “Spike,” Buffy whines as he moves to the bath and turns the shower on. However, her mouth drops open as he turns and begins to remove her clothes.

The only word to describe him is beautiful. His sculpted white plains, his glittering blue eyes, and the play of muscles under his skin as he moves. She catches her breath as he moves to her. She’s left breathless, and the only thing he’s done is remove her clothes.

By now, the bathroom is steam filled from the hot spray of the shower. Stepping into the shower, he moves her under the spray and helps to wet her hair, his strong fingers messaging her scalp. She moans his name and leans back onto his chest. Only after a week, she curses herself for waiting so long to tell him. After he helps her wash, she returns the favor.

When she’s about to turn the water off, Spike pulls her back. She gasps at the searing contact between that sends electricity through her body.

Her eyes fall shut as Spike begins to slowly sway with her held to his chest. Her head falls back onto his shoulder as his hands move up and cup her breasts. She grits her teeth in pleasure.

Spike lets his mouth wander over her collarbone and up to her earlobe. With her firm breasts held in his palms and her rear seated in his pelvis, his erection is painfully hard. Not being able to hold himself off any longer, he pushes Buffy up against the wall.

He smirks when he hears her gasps.

As he takes one hand away, he slides his other hand across her breasts and holds her to him. He lets his free hand wander down her body, over her hip, and around her buttock. Taking himself in his hand, he guides his erection to her opening and pauses.

He hears Buffy moan, and then feels her push back a little. Pushing forward, he hears them both groan as he slowly enters her.

“Spike,” she all but grits out his name.

“Right here love,” he growls in her ear as finally comes into her at the hilt.

Not letting either of them get used to the sensation, he begins moving in her. As he does, he feels Buffy dance up into her tiptoes, trying to give him better access. Her moan vibrates through him.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulls her up and against his chest. They both moan. Their breathing becomes rushed and her heart pounds through his ears. Every few minutes, maybe even seconds, she moans his name. It’s driving him crazy.

As they move together, Spike brings his free hand up and turns Buffy’s chin to him. She must know what he wants because she meets his mouth half way. Joined at the mouth and pelvis, his free hand goes to the wall for support.

The hot spray of water adds to their sensory overload, making it easier for them to move together, against each other.

“Spike…” She finally breaks the kiss, needing air. His mouth, however, strays to the corner of hers and along her jaw line. “More.” Then she claims his mouth.

He shifts some as he brings his other hand back to her. His large palm slides over her slick breasts. His hands slides down her body and slips his fingers through her feminine folds.

She breaks the kiss as she finds her release. Her hands, which had come to rest on his wrist, now curl tightly around them as she withers in his embrace. As she clenches around him, he finds his own release. It crashes through him with a pleasure that’s almost painful and then into her. They both collapse against the wall.

Their bed is kept warm all night.

* * *

“It’s all your fault,” Buffy says the next night as they’re walking along on patrol.

Spike frowns as reaches over and takes her hand. “What’s that Love?”

“I’m so tired.” She says, looking at the ground as they walk.

“That’s the only complaint I’ve heard.” He says, enjoying the nasty look she sends his way.

After a little ways, she stops, saying, “Owe, I think something bit me.”

Not long after, he feels something she might have felt.

“Spike?” The edge of fear in her voice has him reaching for her but he’s stopped as the ground comes rushing up to greet him. Everything turns black.

Spike wakes with a start and jerks around. His eyes snap shut and open and he looks to each place that he searches. The cemetery is quite and still on one is around and he can’t smell anyone coming close. The only thing that fills his senses is the stale scent of Buffy’s light perfume.

He chokes on his panic.

It can’t be true. His senses are deceiving him. Yeah, that’s what it is. His senses aren’t working properly.

Jumping to his feet, he ignores the dizzy spell that washes through his head. He had to find her. He couldn’t go home until he does. He can’t face Dawn until he finds her. There’s no way he would be to see that look again on her poor little face. Not if he has to move hell and earth to find her.

He doesn’t allow himself to break down; he knows if he does, he’ll never get back up. And that won’t help Buffy, or little bit.

The sun starts to rise and he curses it’s existence. If the sun would only stay down all the time, he knows it would cut his search in half.

Forgetting his car, and the rest of the world, he runs home. He runs as if the rest of the world is chasing him, crashing down behind him as he moves. He has to find her… His insides are going numb…

He has to find her. There’s no questioning it. He has to find her.

* * *

In back of her mind, she knows that its not his fault, that it hurts him to the bone that she blames. But it’s so much easier to blame him. He was there…

“You there, you should have protected her…” She screams at him, even as her common sense screams at her that this isn’t right. She doesn’t care. “You should have protected her.”

“I know, little bit.” He says as he tries to stop her pounding fists.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t have to the right,” she screams as he struggles in his grip. “This is all your fault…. All your fault….”

“Dawn….” His voice breaks on her name but she ignores it, hating the way guilt rushes forward. Anger is better, easier to swallow, and far less painful to handle.

“No,” she says as he backs away. She’s glad that he lets her go. If he held her any longer, she was going to break down… “No excuse is good enough.” She says as she runs to the stairs.

“Dawn,” his voice follows her.

She turns a glare to him even as she feels tears welling in her eyes. She needs to leave, to get a hold of her reeling emotions. “You shouldn’t have back until you found her.” Her voice is cold, and sounds foreign, even to her ears.

She rushes up the stairs before she can see the look on his face. Running into her room, she slams the door and wishes she could do that with her emotions as well.

* * *

As she listens to Spike’s words, listens to Dawn’s subsequent anger, her body slumps. She vaguely feels a pair of arms steel around her.

“Will…” She hears Xander.

A sob breaks through her tightly closed throat. It does again when Spike turns to them after Dawn’s parting words. She’s never seen someone look more crushed. Still, he doesn’t cry….

Willow turns her head and buries it in Xander’s shoulder. She can’t believe it. Buffy was kidnapped…

* * *

“Are you all set up Red?” Spike’s is rough. It had grown weak a couple weeks ago from disuse. He used to be one of the most talkative vampires Willow had ever meet, but of late, he talks less and less… Not that she goes around talking to unknown vampires… Not that she goes looking for vampires to become friends with…

“Willow,” his voice has more of a snap to it.

She jerks out of her thoughts. “Yes.” She says she moves over to him and draws a mark on his fore head. “I need you to take off your coat and shirt.” After a minute, he stands bare-chested in front of her, waiting for her next set of instructions. “Now, lay down in the circle, and I’ll do the rest.”

Spike does as told and makes himself relax in the circle, feeling his skin crawl. It doesn’t make it easy for him. He feels as if he’s lying down on the job. But this has to be done, or he will be of no use when the time comes.

He hears distant chanting but his mind moves to the morning after they’d made love. He’ll never forget that morning.

He woke feeling refreshed and sated for the first in more years then he would like to admit. His eyes had traveled from the foot of the bed where her small feet had peeked out and up her sleeping form. It had been a surprise and an enormous please to see her.

She had been laying on her stomach, facing him, and breathed lightly in her sleep. He had stayed there and watched her for an hour or so before it had become too much not to touch, not to have her awake with him.

During the time, he had watched her; she had turned onto her side. He had bent down then, and pressed his lips to hers. As she had come awake, her arms had gone around his neck and pulled him further down, over her. He had gone willingly, and taken her tongue into his mouth to suckle.

As they had broken the kiss, she had purred, “Good Morning.”

Just before he claimed her mouth again, he had growled, “Indeed.”

They had continued like that for another fifteen or so minutes, enjoying the wet slid of tongue, and the brush of lips before the strong urge to take each other had started to rush through….

Spike roars as searing pain rips through his reverie, the first sense of peace he’d had in a long time. He arches up off the concrete floor, and roars again. His cry is so loud that it shatters the glass in the factory.

The pain goes on so long, runs so deep that roars and screams do it no justice, and he’s reduced to silent cries. The silent screams continue, even as blood comes from his eyes and nose, releasing some of the pressure.

Then, finally, close to dawn, the pressure suddenly gives, so suddenly that he gives a sob of relief. A dull, but insistent ache takes up residence somewhere in the back of his skull. As lays there, half dazed, he feels soft hands gently searching him, and then finally pulling him to a where body.

How he wished that were Buffy.

“I’m sorry Spike,” he hears Willow. And even with his head and body feeling numb, he feels a drop of warm moisture land on his cheek.

He smiles lightly as his eyes refuse to open. “It had to been done love. It’s not your fault.” He says as his voice fades.

“No, Spike. Don’t fall asleep. You’re sure to have a concussion.”

He chuckles quietly. “I’m a vampire, love.” And then everything turns pleasantly blank.

* * *

Xander paces up and down his living room, feeling more helpless and useless then he ever has. Buffy has been missing for a month and nothing. They haven’t found anything.

And Spike… The damn vampire doesn’t seem to have a care in the world in anymore. He’s been disappearing for days at a time. And, no matter what Dawn says, it hits her every time he disappears.

He may hate the vampire, but he knows Dawn won’t be able to handle the loss of both Buffy and Spike in such a short time.

“Where are you Buff?” He asks the room.

* * *

Even as the sun threatens to steal the night, Spike stays where he’s perched on the railing of the Summer’s home. Things have changed a lot around here.

Now that Buffy is officially missing, Giles has taken guardianship of Dawn. By her request, the two are going to be moving to England in a couple of months. Giles says it’s because he has to get everything settled to the Demon and the story, and taken Dawn as his charge…. But Spike knows better.

Turning on the rail, he leans back against the post and lays his head back.

Dawn… the only Summers girl he has left and she won’t even look at him. Things have never quite been the same between them after her harsh words.

Pushing thoughts of the little spit fire out of his mind, he turns it work on what he knows. Tara and willow are back together. Willow hasn’t done magic since she helped him, and they were the only two that know about that, him and her. The two birds seem to be happier then ever.

“That hurts,” he mutters.

The whelp, he thinks with a writhing smile, has been different toward him, even striving for civil. Not that he cared. It made no difference to him if the whelp didn’t want him here, he’s staying and that is that.

He frowns. He’d found little to him with his search for Buffy. The only clues that he does have all lead back to one thing: Riley.

Captain Cardboard had been here the night he had been shot with those bolts, and the commandos that gave them to him. Then there is the dart that he had found imbedded in his neck. The daft gits hadn’t thought to take the thing out.

He had sent the dart to an old friend, calling in a favor. He still hasn’t found out anything.

Looking toward house, he hears the phone start to ring. He doesn’t move to answer it. “It’s probably Angel.” He mutters with a look on his face that says he tasted something nasty.

Peaches has been calling ever since the third day of Buffy’s disappearance. Cordelia had seen it happen in a vision. Thankfully, she had seen him go down as well as Buffy. Angel had called yelling into the phone, demanding what the hell was going. After trying twice to get through his tantrum, Spike had hung and just stood by the phone.

As he had suspected, the phone rang not seconds later. He had said peaches in greeting as soon as he answered the phone. He’d heard a growl come from the other end and then Angel’s strained voice as he asked what had happened to Buffy. Spike had said, “Since you asked so nicely…”

When he feels the sun start cooking his clothes, Spike drops to the porch and makes his way into the house and locks up on his way in. He looks up in surprise when he hears footsteps coming toward him.

“What are you doing up so early, Red?” He asks as he takes in her sleepy face.

“I couldn’t sleep. Angel called,” she says.

“Yeah. What did the bastard want?” He asks as he takes his duster off and hangs it up.

“Wanted to know if anything has changed.” She says. “I told him that if it had, he would’ve be the eighth person to know.”

He smirks a little. “Good night, Red.” He says as he moves up the stairs. He goes into Buffy’s room and shuts the door behind him. He knows he won’t sleep but he needs to comfort of her bed, of the last place that they’d spent time together.

Hugging her pillow to his face, he breathes deeply and is glad that he doesn’t have to breath. He can keep the scent in his lungs as long as he wants…

The motel is dank and rat infested. There are punched holes in the walls and the linens and sheets are moth eaten, and the facet in the bathroom drips constantly. Outside the window, the neon blinking light flashing twenty-four hours and the couple in the next room bang the bed against the wall each night…

He doesn’t want to think about that….

None of it matters. Only two months earlier, he had lost their trail after tracking them all the way to the panhandle of Texas… two and a half years now…

Rumors reach him, some aren’t true and others are harder to see through. After that night in the Summers’ living room, he’s tried not to pay attention to what the whelp and his demon girl do… and the Wiccas? Well, he keeps in touch with them.

Willow is now in charge of a twenty strong coven somewhere in northern California, near the border of Oregon. Tara is running a veterinary satiation near their home and the two couldn’t be happier.

The whelp and his demon wife… If he remembers correctly live somewhere in Chicago with three little brats. Other then that, he hasn’t paid attention to what the witches tell him. He doesn’t care.

Two and a half damn years…

Spike leans back on his bed and closes his eyes. Flashes of gold and hazel cross his eyes in a dazzling display. He groans as the images cause a pain in the middle of his chest. It hasn’t gotten any easier to bare her lose and if he doesn’t find her soon….

He pushes his thoughts to his search for his golden goddess.

Six months earlier, he had given up the habit of smoking…

* * *

Moving slowly toward his destination, Spike takes to the right side of the road, across from the compound. It wouldn’t so to alert to his presence too earlier.

He wears a white trench coat, which matches his white locks perfectly, but what’s so unique about the outfit, is what’s under the trench coat. At the end of 2004, there had been some pretty interesting turns in the technology of guns and such. Cops, instead of being able to use deadly force, pistols had been replaces with high-powered tranquilizers. He carries five strong arsenal.

Just in case.

Across his shoulders is an adapted holster. It still carries two pistols on either side but what’s new about one is that on either side, is has the ability to be attached to shotguns. All four places are carrying their intended pieces and all pieces are full of a very strong tranquilizer. The tranquilizer is so strong that he has to be careful and only shot once…

At the back of his pants, another pistol is tucked and his black cargo pants are full of tranquilizer bullets. For emergencies, he has two clips of live ammo, and his switchblade in a sheath in his boot.

To make a long story short, he had killed the thing by twisting its neck and throwing it to the ground. He’d stood over it quite proudly and put a cigarette to his lips. Putting his lighter to the end of the cig, he had sparked.

It was then that he felt a burning sensation on his thumb and when he inhaled, the burning sensation had carried into his nose and down his throat. Then he knew what that familiar smell had been. Gasoline.

* * *

Spike steps off the sidewalk and starts to the front gate.

A few weeks earlier, had been in Oklahoma City, looking for any sign of the initiative, but only found that he was two months late. They all ways seem to be two steps ahead of him.

Anyway, he had found another one of their compounds, expect, the strange about this one was that it was empty… All expect for one body… Riley Fin’s. He’s not sure what happened to him, though it looks as if he had been shot full of something. There was a tear in his throat, a small one, like someone had ripped it out careless after they’d pumped him full of whatever.

Spike moves down the drive and up to the check-in booth. The guard looks up surprised. Spike gives him his usual cocky smile and tilts his head to the side. The guard’s eyes widen even further as Spike raises his hand from inside in his coat and holds up a gun.

“Sorry mate, nothing personal.” He says just as he shots the guard in the shoulder. The guard goes down immediately and is out as he hits the floor. He reaches in through the open window and opens the gate. Moving forward, he walks up to the front of the building and kicks the door in.

The building is practically empty, all except for the night guards and the janitors. Spike is able to creep through the compound with no one spotting him. The compound is larger than he had first thought and it takes him longer then he would like.

The long hall that he finds the file storage room in, is at the opposite end of the compound then he had entered. Moving into the room, he goes to the cabinet, which he knows would hold the files that he needs. He shuffles through the files until he comes to the file he’s looking for and curses, long and hard. The files are gone, again.

The only thing left is the hanging folder that held the files.

Slamming the cabinet shut, he walks back to the door, still cursing. He opens the door a crack. “Shit,” he hisses as he quietly closes the door. He glares as he looks around. How the hell is he supposed to escape now?

His eyes lock on a window and a wicked smile curves his lips. The window is just the right height and width; he steps away from door and continues to measure the window up.

Rolling his head on his shoulders, he roars as he runs at the window. Seconds later, he crashes through the window on the other side and flies through the air…

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