That smile. Even when Spike didn’t play a part in my waking thoughts, I know I dreamt about it. Not in the 'I remember' sense of it, but just something I know. His oh-so-familiar face blurs, and I realise I'm seeing it through excess water that's accumulating in my eyes. I brush my other hand over my eyes to clear them, and start to laugh. It's not a laugh because anything is funny, it's more just the absence of tension, well that and happiness.

He looks confused. I try to calm myself enough to speak.

"Spike," I manage at last.

"Well, yeah," he whispers. "I'm just wondering who the hell you are."

Ok, not the response I expected. But then, Lilah never gave any indication as to what his condition would be when he was returned.

"I'm Buffy," I tell him, willing him to remember.

"Bloody hell! You look like her, but she's never … I've never seen her … happy like that. You're the bloody bot! That's it. The witch went and mended it again."

"Spike," I say softly, relief flooding me. After everything else, I’m not sure I could cope if he didn’t remember me. My hand runs gently over his face, from chin to cheekbone and back again. And then I remember how he recognised me the last time.

I put a hand gently on his shoulders, feeling the softness of well-worn leather, and take in the black of his clothes. He looks just as he did when … he died. I kiss him, nothing passionate, just a gentle, friendly kiss. His eyes flutter closed as he realises what I'm going to do, and then, as I pull away, they open again, and stay wide open in surprise.

"It is you," he says, his voice mirroring his almost disbelief.

"Yes, it's me. And you're back. And still with the Billy Idol look."

He seems to consider what I've said for a moment, then he asks, "Back from where?"

Ok. It looks like some explanations are in order. I settle down to sit beside him.

"Spike, what's the last thing you remember?"

It seems he has to think about that.

"Well, the ubervamps. And an amulet. I wore it, and it was burning me. The place was falling down, and you said …"

"I love you," I interject.

"And I said you didn't. And then you left. And I burned."

I feel a stab of guilt at those words. Because I left him. I know it's what he wanted at the end, but I've always wondered if I couldn't have done something to get him out too.

"Yeah," I say. "But that was seven years ago."

I half expect him to argue, tell me I’m crazy, but he nods.

"It seems like it was a long time ago, I just can't remember where I've been since then."

"It's a long story," I tell him. "I'll tell you later. There's just one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"You were wrong."

Before I can say anything else, he jumps in. "Stands to reason the first thing you say to me after seven bloody years is to tell me I was wrong."

"Well, you were, and I've wished for those seven years that I'd told you sooner."

He's about to speak again, so I put a finger over his lips to stop him.

"When I told you I loved you, and you said I didn't. You were wrong. I did love you."

"Did?" he asks, and I see a mixture of hope and dread in his eyes.

"Did then, and still do," I tell him.

He doesn't seem able to answer that, and I see so many emotions flitting across his face that I smile.

"Let's get you home. There're a lot of explanations needed, I think."

"Home?"

"My apartment. We can talk."

He nods, and I stand up, holding out a hand to help him.

Spike stands slowly, as if he's not sure his limbs will respond, but his hand is warm in mine. It takes a few seconds for that fact to filter into my brain. Spike's hand is warm. But that's just because I'm holding it, right? I touch his face again, and it's warm too. And then I put my hand over his heart, and I feel it, faint but strong, a beating heart.

"You're alive," I tell him.

He grasps his own wrist, checking for a pulse.

"Bloody hell," he shouts. "How?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "We'll find out, later."

"But … but, human? That's … that's …"

He's shaking his head, but seems to be lost for words. I make up my mind to chalk that up as a first. Spike's lost for words.

He wrenches his hand out of mine. I look up, hurt, wondering why he's done it.

"That's a bloody pickle, isn't it, Slayer? That's how it works, is it? You finally work out you can love Spike the vampire, and then I'm bloody human, and I know only too well how that's going to end. Well, thank you very much, but if you'll just show me how to get out of here, I'll get out of your life before this gets any worse."

"Spike," I say, louder than I intended. "Spike, we'll work out what this means. Just come home with me, and we'll sort it out. And anyway, where else would you go?"

He thinks for a few seconds, then realises I’m right.

"That's just great," he complains. "I'm a charity case now, am I? Look after the poor newly human wimp, because he's too weak to look after himself."

The urge to hit him is there. I remember it so well, but the difference is, this time I don't. I hold my hands by my side, even though they're itching to move.

"Spike, you're not a charity case. Come home with me, so I can explain what's been happening. Give yourself time to settle down, then see how you feel.”

He's pulling away from me, but then I see his shoulders slump and I know he knows he hasn't got any choice.

For the first time, I really look around. It looks pretty much like Angel's office, except shabbier. Well, maybe not shabbier, but somehow less important. I lead Spike towards the door, but before we reach it, it opens, and Wes comes in with Angel right behind him.

"Buffy, oh, you're ok," says Wes, the relief showing on his face. "It took us a while to persuade Lilah to tell us where you were, and I was afraid she'd double-crossed us."

"I'm fine," I reassure him, but my eyes are on Angel who's standing behind, and I'm daring him to speak to me. His is the last voice I want to hear right now, and I think he's got the message, as he turns to leave. Spike’s eyes are trained on his back as he retreats, but he says nothing.

"How is he?" Wes asks.

"'He', is fine," Spike retorts sarcastically. "And who are you?"

Wes steps forward, hand outstretched to greet him.

"I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he says, "I'm a friend of Buffy's."

Spike ignores the proffered hand.

"Oh, yes, and you’ve got the Council of Watchers stamped all over you. What's this? Spike too much of a threat now, so they've got to get involved?"

Wes is taken aback by the confrontation, but manages to keep his cool.

"I was a Watcher, some years ago. Today, however, I work here. Tomorrow, I suspect I'm going to be self-employed."

"So, was bringing me back human your doing?"

"Human?" Wes looks at me for corroboration.

I nod. "Heartbeat, warm. As far as I can tell, he's human."

"Most unexpected. And Lilah didn't give us any clue, did she?"

I get the impression Wes wants to start dissecting everything that's happened this evening, but all I want to do is get Spike home.

"Look, Wes, it's been a long day, and Spike's understandably confused about what's been happening. Let's all go home and get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Oh, yes, certainly," he replies, and the words form a strange sort of apology.

We walk towards the elevator in silence. Once we're inside, Spike asks, "So, where are we? I assume LA because of the poof, but where exactly?"

"We're in the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart - it's a firm of lawyers. I work here, and so does Angel." Wes' voice is calm and matter of fact, but he surely can't be any less aware of the waves of anger rolling off Spike than I am.

"So, what's a vampire doing working for some lawyers? Or an ex-Watcher for that matter?"

"We fight evil, in whatever form. The firm just gives us the resources to make the job easier."

He seems to accept that for a moment.

"So, what about you, Slayer? You work for this lot too?"

"No, I have my own business - I'm a counsellor. I help people traumatised by brushes with the things that were commonplace in Sunnydale - vampires, demons and so on."

There's a flash of something in his eyes, almost … admiration, but it's gone before I can be sure. All that's left is the pain and anger that's been there since he realised he was no longer undead.

Wes sees us to my car, and we get in in silence. I had so many pictures of this moment, of seeing him again, but none of them were remotely like this. I'd expected what? Perfection? No, not any more. But I'd expected something positive, some sign that he cares about me, loves me. Was I so stupid to believe that he loved me? And if he has no memories since the cave, why doesn't he seem to love me now? And yet, there was that look, those first few moments - they were closer to what I expected. What changed? And then it dawns on me. It changed when he knew he was changed. But I don't understand why.

I delve into my professional knowledge, and tell myself that he's just undergone a tremendous shock. Apart from having missed out on seven years, he's just found he's not who, or more correctly what, he thought he was. He's bound to be confused, and I can understand anger too. But it hurts to have that anger aimed at me when all I want to do is hold him and make everything feel good again.

We get back to find Willow in the hallway. She must have jumped up as soon as she heard my key in the door. Her face is so full of happiness when she first sees us, and I shake my head at her from my vantage point behind Spike, trying to warn her to keep things quiet for now.

"Oh, so the witch was involved too?" Spike mutters. "Might have known. Bringing people back from the dead's a bit of a speciality for you, isn't it?"

He lunges towards her, and Willow instinctively moves back, but Spike stops before he touches her.

"Frightened you, did I? Just took you by surprise, more like. Couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, but then, you know that, don't you?"

"What is it, Spike? The chip was removed, before … before you dusted. What's wrong?"

"You really don't know?" Spike's voice is falsely calm. "I had you pegged as the one most likely to. Well, for your information, I'm human. Just a weak, insignificant ponce again."

Willow looks at me, and I nod.

"Look, it's late," I try to explain. "We'll talk in the morning. Spike, come with me, and I'll get you somewhere to sleep."

Willow disappears, and I take Spike into my room. "You can stay here tonight. I'll just get some things, and …"

"Your room, Slayer?" he asks.

I hate that he's calling me that again. "Yeah, is that a problem?"

"Typical, really. Never got this honour when I was a vampire, oh no. Now I'm a harmless human, I merit your room."

I shake my head. I had had visions of spending tonight in that bed with him, but I just know that wouldn't be right with things as they are.

"Look, Spike, I know being human is a shock. I get that, but I didn't know it was going to happen. The choice I had was between letting you spend eternity in Hell, or bringing you back. There wasn't any mention of whether you'd be alive or dead. Forgive me for caring enough not to want to consign you to Hell."

"Not sure there's much difference," he mutters.

"Look, Spike, I don't understand. I don't see why it's such a terrible thing to be human."

"It's not being human that's the problem, Slayer. It's being me. Stupid, poncy, weak, laughable me. Dru may not have done a lot of good, but she saved me from that, made me something better, something more. Now, I'm nothing."

"You're not nothing, not unless you decide that's what you’re going to be.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and look him straight in the eye. "The man you are was strong enough to fight the demon inside you. He was strong enough to win a soul. He was strong enough to love even without that soul. Don't you dare tell me he was nothing. He was the man I loved, that I still love, and somewhere inside you, he's still there."

"You're wrong, Slayer. He's gone. Everything that made me Spike is gone. And, once you realise that, you'll be running away from me so fast … But there's no point in talking about it now. This is your room, and I'm not sleeping here. I'll take the sofa, anything. Us poor human types need sleep."

"There's a spare bedroom," I tell him, "but no bed there yet. I'll order one first chance I get. You can have the sofa if you want, or …"

"The sofa'll be fine."

I lead him into the living room, and leave him there while I go to find an extra blanket. When I go back in, he's standing looking out of the window.

"You hungry?" I ask.

"A bit," he admits, more quietly. "Feel more like getting drunk, though."

"Can't help with the getting drunk," I tell him, "but food I can do. Can I fix you something?"

"Don't go to any bother on my account, Slayer," he says. "I can manage to make a sandwich if you've got some bread."

I leave out the makings of a sandwich, then turn to leave. It's quite clear he doesn't want me here, so I'd best go to bed.

I realise once I'm in bed that I didn't show him the bathroom, but I'm loathe to get up again. I didn't really think he'd come back and we'd instantly find everything perfect, but I definitely didn't figure on spending our first night apart. I'm feeling so alone, and I desperately want to hold him, to be held by him.

The one thing that's certain, though, is my belief that I did the right thing. The bargain I made is going to make things difficult, but I wouldn't change my decision. I just hope Spike eventually sees the positive side of it too.

I go to bed, but sleep doesn’t come. In some respects, this is worse than not knowing if we’d succeed – no scrap that. It’s not. He's safe, and that's all that matters.

His mood switched when he knew he was human, and it’s all to do with his belief that his human self is worthless. I understand that, even though I don’t agree with him. It’s obvious to me now, as it wasn’t for so long, that his demon hasn’t been running his life for a long time, if ever. Ok, I know, feeding, killing, loving violence, but he needed to kill to live. And the violence? I’ve got to admit, there’ve been times I’ve missed it. Before I came to LA, I’d go out at night sometimes, just looking for something to kill.

I only realise I’m listening for any movement outside when I finally hear something. I jump up, terrified that Spike’s decided to leave, but before I get to my door, there’s a knock, and Willow’s quiet voice asking if I’m awake. I open the door, and she comes in, fluffy slippers and robe and eyes filled with concern.

We sit on my bed, and it’s like old times. I tell her what happened, about the bargain I made with Lilah. And I explain, as far as I can, what’s happened since then.

"He told me once," I remember. "That time when he tied me up and offered to kill Dru for me if only I’d admit there was something between us? He told me she had saved him from mediocrity."

I’m not sure why I hadn’t remembered that, well, apart from the fact that it’s an incident best forgotten. I can see now, that even then, he was struggling to understand his own feelings, and having considered humans as food for so long, he just didn’t know how to express how he felt. I mean, his relationship with Dru wasn’t something I’d want to share. But he loved her, was devoted to her for a century. When he looks at me, I can almost believe he'd stay with me that long. Or the way he used to look at me, before, and then again, at first tonight.

"He’s convinced that I can’t love him now," I tell Willow. "The problem is, how do I persuade him to stay around long enough for me to prove it?"

Willow looks at her hands for a moment.

"Buffy, are you sure it’s as simple as that? I mean, how do you know you can still love him? If he’s human, and, well, limited in strength and everything, would you still love him? Or, could he love you, knowing that you weren’t equals?"

She’s putting into words something that’s been at the back of my mind, but which I’d been keeping there, hoping that as long as I didn’t put words to it, it wasn’t real.

"Willow, I… I think I love him regardless. It wasn't the demon I loved before, it was the man. I know the demon was part of it, but it was more of an undercurrent. Then again, there was a time when I thought I loved Angel. I know, it’d be stupid to just expect Spike and I to be, well, perfect, but I know one thing for certain. He’s the most important person in my life right now. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he knows that."

Somehow, after Willow left, I managed to sleep. Now, it’s six in the morning, and I’m wide awake, and desperate to check that he’s still here, and that it hasn’t been a dream.

I get up, pull on some clothes, and creep into the living room. I needn’t have bothered with the creeping, because he’s sitting watching TV. He’s got the sound pretty low, which explains why I didn’t hear it before.

If he knows I’m there, he doesn’t acknowledge it at all. The table in front of him is littered with debris – it looks like he’s wiped me out of snack foods overnight. I go into the kitchen and put on some coffee, then go back. I sit down, and just watch him as he tries to pretend I’m not there.

After a few moments, he gives up trying.

"Ok slayer, what do you want to say? You’ve been sitting there, watching me, waiting to say something, so out with it."

"I … I … I don’t know. I mean, there’s a lot I want to say, but nothing in particular right now. Just … just, I want to ask you to stay. Please."

"We’ve already established I don’t really have any choice about that, haven’t we?"

"Well, yes, but … I think, if I ask Wes, he could probably get you papers, make you legal. Then, if you wanted to, you could get a job, get some money, and … do whatever you want. But, I’d still want you to be here."

"Oh, I get it. You want to take up where you left off when you blew up my crypt – at least until you realise I’m not like he was."

He gets up as he says that, moving towards where I’m sitting, and to my surprise, he bends over, and he’s so close to me, I can feel his proximity in every nerve of my body.

"I mean," he continues, "I could probably give you a good run, but I don’t think I’d be up to five hours any more."

His eyes rake up and down my body as he says that, but it leaves me feeling cold.

"That’s not what I meant," I tell him, willing my eyes no remain tear-free. "I just meant, I care about you. You’re right, maybe I don’t know you as a human, but I want to know you. I want to know you as well as I did before – better than I did before. But, you don’t have to stay here, in this apartment if you don’t want to. But if you do, then I’ve got two spare rooms once Willow’s goes, and …"

I stop then, because what I want to say is at once both completely obvious and obscure.

He shrugs.

There’s a sound, then, coming from the door. I get up, and go and open it. No one there, but there’s a thick envelope on the floor. I glance at, and it’s addressed to me, so I pick it up and take it inside.

As I turn away from the door, still staring at the envelope, I hear Spike’s voice from the other end of the hallway.

"Someone there? The Poof come to call is it?"

"No, Spike, just some mail," I answer.

I open the envelope and pull out a wad of paper. The top sheet explains what it’s all about – it’s on a Wolfram and Hart letterhead. It seems the lawyers aren’t above sending out paper copies of their contracts.

I take the envelope to my bedroom and leave it there. There’s no way I want Spike finding out about the deal I made – at least not right away. The Spike I know would insist on getting involved with what I have to do, and I can’t risk that with human Spike.

I go into the kitchen and pour myself some coffee. I offer Spike some too, but he’s back to watching some trashy show and either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t want to. I decide to leave him to wallow for a bit, and take my coffee to my room, where I climb back into bed, and take out the contents of the envelope.

The first few pages bring no surprises. Of course, it's couched in legal-speak, but it all seems kinda like I remember. Then, I come to the new stuff. There's a load of background reading. Everything I could ever want to know about Carnolan demons, their history and habits, and a lot more besides. I set that aside for now, and go to the bottom of the pile. Here are some sheets in a different style altogether, and I just know Lilah's responsible for them.

Under that note is a sheaf of paper which seems to be a resume for some woman who looks slightly familiar. I stare at the photo for a few seconds, and then it comes to me. She was a TA when I was at school. She was ok, too - reputed to be brilliant, and working on some research of her own. I read through the details of her career, and if it's all true, then there's nothing I can take exception to.

I didn't like Lilah last night, and I really don't like her now. Just when I was thinking I was settled, she's just going to shake everything up. And I can't just leave Spike while he's in this state. That's just not a possibility, but then, neither is me taking him along. Having to look after a human Spike would just make everything else so difficult.

So, I'm going to have to risk just waiting. And I'll have to keep Spike where I can make sure she doesn't force him to do something I've got a problem with.

~~~~~

It's later in the day, and I'm at work. I didn't want to leave Spike, but if I'm going to check up on my replacement, one Sarah Carlisle, then I need the contact list I keep in my desk. And then again, there's the fact that I've got appointments.

Wes called me just after I got here. As Lilah promised, he got some details this morning too. He's going to come over tonight, and he's going to bring Gina. Apart from anything else, she's desperate to meet Spike after all she's heard. And then there's the planning and research we need to do. I really wanted to arrange to go out somewhere - their apartment or somewhere, so we could talk without Spike overhearing, but Gina was insistent and I don't want to leave him alone longer than necessary.

Willow's leaving in the morning. She's done what she came here for, and while she's promised to help again if she's needed, there's no reason for her to stay away from Kennedy longer than she already has.

I get home to an empty apartment. There's a note from Willow to say she's gone out to get something for Kennedy. There's no note from Spike.

When Willow gets back, she's as surprised as I am that Spike's gone. I hoped he'd just been bored with the TV, and gone for a walk, but it's getting dark. It may not be Sunnydale out there, but it's not safe either. I go out, searching the streets close to my apartment, trying to find him, leaving Willow to pack and let me know if he gets back.

My heart's in my mouth as I walk, circling blocks, knowing that there's not really much chance that I'm going to run into him. And that's assuming he's just out for a walk. If he's decided to leave, to get away from me, then …

I wish I hadn't told him about Wes being able to get him papers, because, by inference, that means Angel would be able to get them for him too. And if it meant getting Spike out of my life forever, I can't help but think that Angel might be only too happy to help.

It's so long since I did this. It really seems like a patrol, except it's not vamps I'm looking for, it's one particular ex-vamp. I scan each alley I come too, knowing from experience that vamps don't really like feeding too publicly. They're not exactly afraid, what with the super strength, and the way the bumpy face scares people away, but they just don't want to be disturbed.

As far as I can tell, it's a standard evening in LA. There're lots of people around, but none of them is him.

I've been walking around for over two hours, and the fear that I felt when I realised he was out alone has been multiplying inside me. I reach a park, and wonder whether I should look there too. Since I've failed on the streets, I decide to give it a try. It's full dark now, and without the benefit of street and car lights, I'm quickly plunged into total darkness. Times like this I wish I had vamp vision.

If he is here, there's no way I'm going to find him, and I turn to head back to the street, when I get a faint tingle. There's a vamp around here somewhere. I check my pocket and waistband, making sure I've got a couple of stakes ready, and push my Slayer sense out trying to locate it.

I pinpoint the direction, and move that way, every sense extended for maximum information. I hear them before I see them. They're not exactly being noisy, but they're discussing something, and there are at least three of them.

"Who gets to be first?" one asks.

"It's my turn," another voice counters.

"I brought him, so it's my turn first," a third voice states. This voice sounds much more confident that the others. "You don't like it, you go and catch yourself one."

"You know we can't," someone whines. "We're not strong enough yet. That turncoat hurt us badly. We only just got away from him the other night. We need fresh blood, and the master told you to make sure we get it."

There's a snarl then, and I know I'm getting closer. I also know that their victim is Spike. Ok, no, I don't know, but I'm terrified it might be.

"Ok" the third voice gives in, "but he's coming to, so be quick."

I'm so close, I can almost touch them, but there's a thick hedge in front of me, and I've got to go around it. It’s just too thick to go through quickly, and too high and even to climb. I wish I had a flashlight with me. I start to hurry along the hedge, desperate to find an opening. I hear the sound of a struggle, and my heart's pounding. I know I'm hearing Spike's last moments, and I can't get to him.

At last, the hedge ends, and I run around it, rushing back along its length, and I see him, a mere glimmer in the moonlight. The sight almost causes my heart to stop as it’s exactly what I dreaded seeing. No, wait, that’s not exactly true. I freeze on the spot. He's fighting, well, I guess you could call it that. He's drunk. He's giggling, and he's staggering, but somehow, it's more like Spike than anything I've seen so far. His co-ordination's not up to much, but he's managed to stake the one who was feeding from him.

One of them tries to run, apparently deciding he doesn't like food that fights back, but the other closes in on Spike, who's sitting on the ground, apparently having a great time if the giggling is anything to go by. He's not afraid, and I wonder for a moment whether or not to help, but when I see him try to stand, my indecision's gone.

Too late, the vamp realises I'm behind him. He turns just as I thrust a stake through his back into his heart. I take a quick look around, but wherever the third one is, it's nowhere around here.

I look back towards Spike, and the result of that is a recurrence of the giggles. I don't know whether to join in or yell at him, but in the end, I'm just so relieved, and so angry that he let himself get into this position, that I yell.

"What do you think you're doing, Spike?" I demand, hands on my hips.

He seems to sober a little at my words, but then he grins.

"Was staking me a vamp or two," he replies, his words slurred.

"I mean, what are you doing out after dark, in a park, no less?"

"Park? That where I am?"

He looks thoughtful. "Don't remember being in a park."

"Save it," I answer. "Let's get you home, and then you can tell me why you're trying to get yourself killed."

His expression as I say that is so remorseful after a second, that I feel my anger melting. I go to him, and haul him to his feet, putting an arm under his arm, and pulling his arm over my shoulders. He's actually fairly steady once he's upright, and I take him back the way I came, out of the park, and onto the street.

By the time we get to the apartment, I get the impression he doesn't need any support, but he doesn't let go, and it's the last thing I want to do right now. Being this close to him, touching him, feeling his pulse, it's such a strange mixture of the familiar and the new. Once we're inside, though, there's no excuse. He flops onto a chair, and I turn to see Willow pulling her suitcase out of her bedroom.

"Is he ok?" she asks.

I nod. Words seem difficult when I think how things could have turned out.

"My cab should be here in a minute," Willow says.

I glance at my watch, and realise it's later than I thought.

"Sorry, Will."

"No problem. As long as everyone's ok."

I hear the sound of a car horn from outside, and glance out the window to confirm that it's Willow's cab.

"It's here," I tell her, covering the distance between us. I hug her tight.

"Thanks for everything," I say softly.

"Really no need for thanks," she replies.

"Thanks anyway. And safe journey."

She nods, and I pick up her suitcase to walk her out to the cab.

I watch as the tail lights vanish along the road, then go back inside.

Spike's sitting where I left him, but he's not looking so happy.

I sit beside him, and lift his face so he's looking at me.

"What were you doing? Trying to get yourself killed? You had me so scared… I thought I'd lost you again."

"Wasn't," he murmurs.

"Wasn't trying to get killed," he finishes. "That's what you said, out there. I wasn't."

"Well, what were you doing?"

"Getting drunk."

He says that as if it explains everything.

"Getting drunk," I parrot.

"Well, yeah. I seem to remember it helps. Well, no, it doesn't really, but it seems to for a while."

"Where'd you get the money?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

"Played some college kids at pool. Easy enough scam. Play them without a stake and let them win, then give them the chance to fleece me too, except then I play properly."

"Ok, so you suckered some college kids. Then you got drunk."

He seems to have to think about it. "Yeah, except, I don't remember drinking that much. Started feeling kinda … sick. Never felt like that before. Went outside, thinking I was going to throw up, and the next thing I remember was some vamp trying to take a bite."

"Ok," I say. "Makes sense, I suppose. You're human now. Makes sense you'd only have human resistance to alcohol, and your human body isn't used to it, so it wouldn't take a lot to make you drunk."

"Hadn't thought of that," he admits.

"You were really scared?" he asks, dropping his head again.

"Of course I was. Ever since I first realised there was a chance you could come back, it's all I've been able to think about. And to lose you again … I couldn't take it."

"Sorry," he mutters. "Sorry I scared you. I didn't think …"

"No, you didn't."

He grins sheepishly, and I raise a hand to his face, sweeping some stray hair off his face. He closes his eyes at the contact, but his body stiffens, so I pull away.

"How're you feeling?" I ask.

"Like a pillock," he admits. "A very sleepy pillock."

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"Maybe an hour or two."

"Let me change the bed Willow's been using, and you can go and lie down."

"Don't bother. Don't imagine the witch's that dirty, and I'm sure I've slept worse places than her used sheets. Ok if I go and lie down now?"

"Sure," I answer, getting up as he does.

He leaves the room, and I follow him into the hallway. He goes into the bedroom but pauses in the doorway, turning towards me.

"Was fun, though," he says, smiling at me.

"Fun?"

"Yeah, fun. Staking vamps again. Bit of violence. Fun."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just turns and closes the door behind him. When I check on him ten minutes later, he's sleeping like a baby.

He's still sleeping when Wes and Gina arrive. They follow me into the living room as I explain in whispers what happened.

"He managed to stake one of them though," Wes asks.

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't much of a vamp. It'd been hurt, I guess by Angel from what they said."

"But an average human, as drunk as you say Spike was, wouldn't stand much of a chance even against an incapacitated vamp," he insists.

"Well, no, but then Spike's not average. He's got a century of fighting techniques at his disposal. And to be honest, I think he got lucky."

"Ok," Wes agrees, but I can see he's not convinced.

"So, you've heard from Lilah too," I change the subject.

"Yes, this morning. It appears that, effective immediately, I'm not welcome at Wolfram and Hart."

"That's not what she said," I disagree. "She said you were on paid leave."

"That's what my communication said too, but I'd be naïve to think I'm going to be trusted again. I'll continue to take payment while I help you complete your task, but as soon as that's over, I'll go back to working on my own. I may even be able to persuade some of the others to join me, but that's for another time."

"What else did she give you?" he asks.

I hand him the stack of papers, and he scans them, reading more carefully when he comes to the background information on the Carnolan demons. I leave him to it, although I do feel just a little guilty. But then, research - not my strong point.

"Have you shared this with Spike?" he asks, looking up from the papers for a moment.

"No, and I'm not going to," I reply.

He looks at me, the sort of long look that authority figures use when they don't like what you said.

"Buffy, he deserves to know what you promised to do in order to bring him back."

"But, he's human, and without all the super strength, and the being already dead, I'd just have to look out for him all the time. And there's no way he wouldn't want to be involved."

"Yet I'm involved," Wes reminds me. "And, in her own way, Gina's involved too."

"I know, and I'm sorry," I start to apologise, but Wes holds up his hand.

"Buffy, stop. I'm not looking for an apology. I chose to be involved, and so did Gina. Or at least, she knows what I do, understood that before I married her."

Gina puts her hand on his arm. "He spent about a month, while were engaged, trying to persuade me to break it off because he didn't want me involved with demon fighting, however indirectly."

"So, Gina and I have chosen to be involved. But Spike has the right to choose too. Like it or not, it concerns him, in a very real way. You've given up, albeit temporarily, your 'normal life', and you did it for him. Now, I know you did it willingly, but you owe it to him to tell him what happened. And you know what I'm saying is true. If you and he are ever going to have a future, you need to let him into all aspects of your life."

Deep down, I know he's right. It goes against the Slayer thing, the part of me that feels it's up to me to look after everyone else, but he's right. The times I nearly failed as the Slayer were the times I tried to do it alone.

"Ok," I sigh. "I'll tell him. I'll tell Spike what I agreed to do."

The words are no sooner out of my mouth than I realise he's standing in the doorway.

"What's this? What're you going to tell Spike?"

I jump at the sound of his voice, guilt and surprise adding to make my heart thump in my chest. He ignores me, and walks towards Gina, hand outstretched.

"Seems we're going to have to introduce ourselves," he says, shaking her hand.

"I'm William Carrington," he says, "formerly known as the Vampire Spike or William the Bloody."

"Gina, Gina Wyndam Pryce," she answers, smiling at him.

I shouldn't be surprised. If there's something Spike's never been lacking in, it's charm, oh and appreciation of an attractive woman.

"That mean you're with him?" he asks, nodding his head in Wes' direction.

"For better or worse," Gina replies, smiling warmly.

"So," he says, moving to an empty chair and flopping down on it. "It seems I've been out of the loop for a while, so maybe you'd better start at the beginning."

And so we start. To tell the truth, Wes does most of the talking. I'm watching Spike, how he reacts to what's being said, looking at every twitch and change of position from under my eyelashes.

Spike tenses noticeably when he hears about the deal. It's hard to tell what emotion caused the tension, whether it was anger, or fear, or something else altogether. I chance a proper look at his face, and I see confusion, and then pain. He doesn't say anything.

Wes goes on to outline what the documents in front of him say about Carnolan demons. The fact that they're flesh-eaters, but that they've not until now been numerous enough to impinge on human awareness. He adds some further information, including what he remembers from his Watcher training, but all that does in reinforce what we got from Wolfram and Hart.

Wes pauses then, letting us consider what he's said.

"Seems there's something odd about this," Spike says.

"What?" I ask.

"Well, two things, really. If these demons are as potentially nasty as their advertising suggests, why would these evil lawyer types want rid of them?"

"Balance of power, Lilah said," I answer him.

"Mmm hmm. So, if there're two or more groups, all balanced, and you go and get rid of one of them, what does that do to the others?"

"It upsets the balance," I answer, but Wes interrupts.

"It effectively increases the power of the other group or groups. We knew that, but it's a risk we're going to have to take, even if it means taking on the other groups afterwards."

"Ok, I get that. I'm not sure why you'd take that risk just for me, but, ok. The other point is something about the Carnolan demons themselves. There's something about what you're saying that just doesn't make sense. I can understand that the Watchers council, and humans in general wouldn't have much contact with these demons. But, I don't understand why they don't figure in vamp history. We're too alike, I mean, we've got the same food supply, so we're bound to have crossed paths sometimes."

"Yes, I suppose so," Wes agrees, but he doesn't seem to know where this is going.

"Then, why have I never heard of them?"

"Just because you've never heard of them, …" Wes starts, disagreeing.

"Look, watcher. I've been around a bit longer than you. Living out there, among the demons. I speak bloody Fyarl, and a couple of other languages they didn't teach at UC Sunnydale, or Oxford. Demons know demons. Even if it's only knowing which ones to fight and which ones to keep the hell away from."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I've never heard of Carnolan demons, and I've never heard of anything that has that particular MO. Sounds like the sort of thing to frighten young ones with - bogey man or the likes."

"But, there're records, both at Wolfram and Hart, and at the Watchers Council," Wes remonstrates.

"And, records've never been altered or made up before, now have they?"

Wes turns strangely pale at that, but it's not the time to start asking for explanations.

"So," I say, catching on. "You think there's something more to all this than they've told us."

"Bloody right I do."

Wes is silent at that, thoughtful.

"I'll call Giles. If my memory serves, Carnolan demons were only mentioned in one text. It would obviously be easier to fabricate a single reference."

He turns towards me then adding, "Would it be ok for me to borrow this? I'd like to digest the contents before I talk to Giles."

"Feel free," I tell him. "It's not like I'm itching to read it."

That comment earns me a very Giles-like glare.

Wes is sitting on the edge of his chair, and I know he just wants to go and get on with his research. Gina's watching Spike and me, and trying not to be obvious about it. Spike? He's decided his lap is very interesting. And I desperately want to talk to him, find out how he feels about the information, but I'm not going to ask him in front of the others, so I'm relieved when Gina nudges Wes and says, "I think it's time we were going home, Wes. You can read that and make notes to your heart's content, and then you can call Giles."

Wes takes his wife's hint, and gets up to leave. I follow them to the door, and once there, Gina gives me a hug.

"He's not happy about things, but you knew he wouldn't be. Give him time, though. If he loved you as much as you remember, he'll understand why you did what you did."

I hug her back, and we separate, but then she leans over to whisper in my ear, a wide grin on her face. "Oh, and for the record, I fully understand you wanting him back!"

I can't help but smile back at her, and for a few seconds all I feel is joy that he's with me. She's right. We can work all this out, I know we can. Just as long as we're both willing to try.

I walk back to the living room determined to make things right between Spike and me. He's sitting where I left him, his shoulders rounded, staring at the floor. He hears me coming in, and looks up, and his expression makes my heart clench in sympathy.

"You gave it up for me," he says softly, his eyes wide.

"What?" I reply, not quite sure what he means.

"You had it all. What you wanted, the normal life, the career, and you've given it up."

I go and sit beside him. His eyes follow me, and my doubts vanish - all those niggling feelings that've been plucking at me since Spike realised he was different, they just evaporate. His feelings are written on his face along with the wonder and the fear that vie for precedence. For once, I think carefully before I start to speak. This is too important for misunderstandings.

"You're right. I reached the stage in my life where I thought I had it all. I told Angel once, that I was cookie dough. Just before the end, in Sunnydale, I told him that I wasn't ready for the big decisions, that I needed to find out who I was before I would be ready for the 'happy ever after' thing. After Sunnydale, I moved on, came here, built myself a life. Someone had been messing with my mind, so I didn't remember you as clearly as I should. But I thought I was as ready as I'd ever be, so I tried to make that life with Angel."

I see him tense, and put a hand on his arm only to have him shrug it off. I continue.

"His soul is permanent now, so there wasn't any danger of Angelus spoiling things. But I knew, almost right away, that it wasn't right, that something was missing. It was like I was meant to be chocolate chip cookies, but I'd run out of chocolate chips. Part of me was missing. And, as soon as I realised that, the answer was obvious. The thing that was missing, the man who was missing, was you. Despite some mojo that was supposed to make me forget you, I didn't, not completely."

He doesn't say anything, just continues to look at me, and I just want to drown in those eyes. I take a deep breath to steady myself, and continue.

"So, Willow managed to lift whatever it was that made you less important in my memory, and then we found that there might be a way to get you back. And the truth is, with my memory intact, I knew that my normal life wasn't worth anything without you to share it. And even if it's never exactly normal again, my life doesn't mean anything without you. So, you ask why I gave it up? Because without you, I don't have a life. And the alternative, with you consigned to Hell, just wasn't an option."

"Buffy, s'what I deserve. I mean, the things I did …"

"Shh," I put my finger on his lips to stop him disagreeing. "You also saved the world. At the very least, you deserve a chance to change. I don't know why I didn't see that earlier, but it's true."

He shakes his head, and I move my finger.

"Buffy," his voice is firmer now. "You love him, Spike. You don't know me. I'm not him, and I never will be him. And when you realise that, maybe Angel won't seem like such a bad deal."

I feel anger boiling at that remark. How dare he suggest that I'd go back to Angel? I think he can see my irritation, and in true Spike style, instead of saying something to calm me, he does the opposite.

"What? You need a bit of monster in your man. If Spike can't supply it, then why not Angel?"

"I've already told you. It didn't work with Angel. It didn't, and it never would."

My voice is louder than I intended, but quieter than it would have been a few years ago.

"It's not Angel that I love. I mean, I care about him, and I probably always will, even if right now, I really don't want to see him. It's Spike. And, whether or not you agree, you're the closest thing to Spike there is. I'm not seeing a whole lot of difference, except for the not having to keep out of the sun."

"I'm not him. I don't have a demon, that dark side that you crave. Not any more."

"Who are you, Spike, if not the sum of your memories and experience? And now I'm sounding like a freshman psych. class. You lived with that demon for a century. Are you telling me it didn't make a difference? And as for not knowing you? I want to. I want to know everything about you. You've already seen me at my worst - when I didn't want to live, when I wanted to hurt you because it made me feel a little better. And I know I've seen some of the worst of Spike too, but I loved him anyway, even if it did take me a while to realise it. Let me get to know you, let me see if I can love you, whoever you are now. Let you find out if you can still love me. I've changed too. We'll take it slowly, if that's what you want, but I'm just begging you to give us that chance."

He laughs then, although there's no joy in it, and lifts his hand to my hair.

"Buffy, taking things slowly isn't what I want to do. Part of me is desperate to touch you, to feel you, to … but … ."

I don't answer that, because I'm feeling exactly the same thing. Having him so close, and not being able to touch, really touch, is agony. I close my eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of his hand on my hair, and I know that if he moves closer, kisses me, I won't stop him. He doesn't. After seconds or hours, his hand drops away from me, and I open my eyes again. He's still looking at me, and I know I've got to break the spell before we do something we might regret.

"So, we take it one stage at a time. First thing, is for you to just get used to being back. The rest, well, it'll probably have to wait until after I sort out this business with Wolfram and Hart."

"We."

I must look confused, because a second later, he adds, "After we sort out this business with Wolfram and Hart."

"But Spike," I remonstrate.

"But nothing. You either let me help out front, or I'll just follow along anyway, more than likely getting in your way, but there's no way you're doing this alone. He would've been there to watch your back, so how could I do any different?"

I'm about to tell him why, but then I remember the conversation with Wes, and I know he's right. However irritating it might be, I've got to let him make the decision. And the last thing I want to do is to undermine his confidence. I cast my mind back to the conversation with Riley after Dawn let slip that I called him 'kitteny'. He made the best of it, but he was hurt.

I decide to go for a simple, concise answer.

"Thanks, Spike."

He smiles at that. "Going to take a bit of getting used to, that. The Slayer saying thank you."

I tense at that, feeling the guilt again, for all those times I treated him badly, but his voice is teasing, and his smile warm. I smile back.

"Don't know about you, Pet, but I could do with a bit more sleep. What do you say we talk in the morning, decide how we're going to do what we need to do."

He gets up, signalling that the conversation's over. I can't make up my mind whether I'm more scared or happy, but it looks like I've got another member of the team.

He walks towards the door, and turns back towards me before he leaves the room.

"Still got some of the money I won," he says, pulling it out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Thought I might buy myself a change of clothes. This human thing - it comes complete with some annoying extras I could do without - like sweating and … other assorted smells. Ok if I take a shower before I go to bed?"

I just nod. It's the first time I've heard him say something so … accepting about his new status. If he can only accept it, and realise he's more Spike than whoever he was before he was turned, then maybe we'll work this out.

I listen to the sound of the water as I get ready for bed. I'm surprised by how tired I feel - the anxiety of the past few days has taken its toll. I climb into bed, hear Spike come out of the bathroom and go into his bedroom, and I'm aware of nothing more.

I sleep so deeply that I either forgot to set my alarm, or I slept through it, because the next thing I know it's after ten. I get up, relieved to realise it's Saturday, and pull on a robe. I check the living room and kitchen but there's no sign of Spike. I knock softly on his bedroom door, trying not to waken him, but desperate to know he's ok. There's no answer. I open the door carefully, and find the room empty, the bed made up carefully.

My heart starts thumping uncomfortably, and I try to push down my fear. He said he needed some new clothes, so that's where he's gone. I think the words, but I'm not convinced. I take a deep breath, and go back into the kitchen searching for some sign that I'm right.

It's there, perched against the coffee pot, a note. He's borrowed my keys, and gone shopping. A wave of relief engulfs me, leaving me almost dizzy. I put the coffee on, and go into the bathroom to shower. I'm almost finished when I hear the door opening, and I know he's back. I quickly finish rinsing my hair, and turn off the water. I wrap my hair in a towel, and pull on my robe again.

I bump into him right outside the bathroom door. He starts, but the look he gives me is pure Spike, admiring what he can see in a way that'd be downright obscene from anyone else. Then something strange happens. It's as if he realises what he's done, and he changes, looking down and reddening.

"S .. sorry," he apologises. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

He turns then, and if he were moving any faster, I'd have to say he runs away to his room. I shake my head, trying to work out his reaction, then give up. I'm confused, but then that's nothing to how he must be feeling.

I've dried my hair, dressed and I'm eating some breakfast when he appears again, dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. The only reason I know they're new is the absolute blackness of the denim, and the small logo on the breast of the t-shirt. Again, it's pure Spike. I can't imagine what he was like as a human, but so far, apart from a few strange episodes, he's exactly the man I finally realised I love.

"No change in colour scheme then," I comment, as he pours himself some coffee.

"Well, if it's not broken, don't fix it. Any complaints?"

The t-shirt is tight, fitting closely, and his arms are bare. The jeans are, if anything, tighter than I remember. I assume that's just the fact that they're new, but the total result is … amazing. And in a totally Spike way. The look is all about raw sexuality - conventional enough to be acceptable in public, but definitely enough to make sure that every woman and a fair number of men who see him are going to give him a second look.

His hair's showing roots a little, but he's had it cut while he was out, and it's gelled into conformance the way he seems to like it.

The phone rings and I'm torn from my admiration to answer it. I take it through to the living room, and flop onto a chair, glancing at the display before answering it. I'm surprised to see that it's my office number.

"Hello," I answer cautiously.

"Buffy, Sarah Carlisle here. Just thought I'd let you know I really appreciate you letting me take on your business here. I've been looking for something like this, and I just couldn't believe how perfect this is for me just now."

"Hello Sarah," I answer. I'm really not sure what to say here. She obviously assumes that I've instigated getting her in, but I'm not sure how much she knows.

"Last time I heard about you, you were doing some interesting research," I answer, hoping to get some new information.

"Yeah, I was. Funny that. Everything was going really well, and then my sponsor just opted out. Turned out some of the money I thought had been paid hadn't actually made it into the project account, and I had an awful job making sure everyone got paid. It cost me a lot. That's why I'm so glad this opportunity came up."

"Just out of interest," I ask, a suspicion coming to mind. "Who was your sponsor?"

"Oh, it was a small company, you probably haven't heard of it. I was surprised they were interested in the project in the first place, but you don't ask questions when it comes to a research grant. Hart Brothers they called themselves, but as far as I can tell, the whole company's disappeared."

Now, why does that sound familiar? And of course, there's no reason for them to hide any involvement from me.

"Anyway," Sarah interrupts my thoughts. "I thought I'd let you know I'm here, going through your case notes so I can get right to work on Monday morning. I was surprised you didn't want to meet me, but your assistant gave me all the passwords and keys and so on, so I'm fine."

I could argue, go in there and tell Sarah that none of this is my idea, but I don't. I've got myself into this, and I'm going to have to get myself out of it, whatever it ends up being. I suspect that my 'assistant' might turn out to be Lilah Morgan, and I'm seething at the idea that she could just hand my business over to someone else. But that's between Lilah and me.

"So," Sarah goes on. "I'll take good care of everything for you until you get back. I have to say, I'm jealous. Twelve months to travel the world - I'd love to be able to do that some time. I'll keep things running smoothly for when you get back. I've even got some ideas to maybe enlarge things so you might want to keep me on when you get back. But now I'm getting ahead of myself. Go, and enjoy your adventure. I'll take care of everything here."

"Thanks, Sarah," I tell her. Whatever else, as far as I can tell, she's genuine, and as much a victim in this as I am if my suspicions regarding her sponsor are justified.

We say goodbye, and I put the phone down. I'm still pondering the conversation when Spike comes in and sits close to me.

"So," he says, "how're we going to play this? I didn't get a chance to read the background information you got. Where are we supposed to meet up with these demons?"

He's so matter of fact, that it sounds unreal. "Well," I start, almost afraid to admit the truth. "I haven't really read what Lilah sent. We'll have to wait until Wes gives it back."

"Oh, so you haven't changed that much."

He's looking at me with a half-smile, and I laugh at it.

"So, what's been happening?" he asks.

I look at him blankly.

"Well, I know a bit about what happened, that you made it out of Sunnydale, and the witch, and Dawn …"

He pauses then, looking sheepish. It takes me a moment to realise why.

"How do you know Dawn made it?" I ask.

"Looked through the numbers on your phone. Had to make sure she was ok."

Going through my things, now why does that sound so familiar?

"You could have asked," I point out.

"Yeah, but, I didn't want to talk to you. I was, … scared. Still am, but it looks like we're going to be working together, so …"

I tell him how Dawn's been doing, and he beams with an almost fatherly pride. I make a mental note to tell Dawn he’s back. I don’t know how she’ll react, but I do know she’ll kill me if she hears it from someone else. I go on from there to telling him what I know about the others. When I get to Xander, he grunts.

"Best place for the boy," he murmurs. "Out of it. Was never really cut out for it, and with one eye, he'd be easy prey. How about his bird?"

It's funny, I haven't thought a lot about Anya for a while. I suppose it was the spell that meant she didn't figure at all, but now that I'm reminded, I feel the familiar pang of regret. It's regret that I didn't do enough for her while she was around, that I resented her rather unusual outlook on life.

"Anya didn't make it." It's a stark statement, but I find it hard to say more.

"I'm sorry about that. Always liked her, even when she was trying to point out how different she was compared with 'us demons'. At least she always said what was on her mind."

"Yeah," I say quietly. Memories of Anya while talking to Spike make me think of the two of them together, and I recall vividly how betrayed I felt when I saw the evidence of the two of them in the Magic Box. I shake my head, forcing myself to remember that I'd told him to move on, that there was nothing between us. But it hurt, and I hated that it hurt, so it gave me one more thing to hold against him.

I look at him, and he's studying me closely. "Still hurts," he comments.

I wonder how he knows what I was thinking about.

"You felt responsible for her."

Oh, that's what he meant. And, of course, he's right. It was sad that she died, but it was worse because I did feel responsible, for her, and all the potentials who suddenly weren't potentials any more but didn't get the chance to go home.

"And you're still doing it."

I must look at him blankly, because he goes on.

"Feeling like you're responsible for the whole world."

"It's funny, I haven't felt like that for a while. Now, I'm back in the fight, and it's hard to stop the old feelings. I was the Slayer, the one and only, and I was responsible. Now, I'm just one of - I don't know how many. But, it's still my job to protect the rest of you - the people who aren't Slayers."

"And you didn't want to tell me what was going on."

"No, I didn't. I … It's just, it's like …" How do I explain this without making him feel like Riley after the 'kitteny' comment?

"I know how you feel, you know. I understand it. Don't like it, and I'm not going along with it, but I do understand. You don't want to be responsible for me, so don’t be. I'm going into whatever we're getting into with my eyes open. You aren't responsible."

I wish it was that easy. I try to smile, but I'm not sure that it comes across the way I intended.

"So, want to call the Watcher and find out what we're going to do?"

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea," I answer.

~~~~~

A couple of hours, and a walk in the sunshine later, we're at Wes and Gina's. And can I say, walking with Spike, outside, in daylight? Big buzz. He had this smile on his face, well, until he saw me looking, then he reverted to 'Big Bad' face, with that impatient scowl he uses when he's trying to hide his feelings.

Wes is quite excited about what he's been reading, but goes straight into detailing his conversation with Giles while Gina gets coffee.

"I was right," he tells us. "The information on Carnolan demons only comes from a single source, but it's one that in other respects, is completely reliable."

"Stands to reason," Spike comments. "If you want to make sure it's believed, you'd hardly put it in the National Enquirer."

"True, but I still think we should acquaint ourselves with all the information available, whether it turns out to be accurate or not."

"Didn't say any different, did I, Watcher?"

Wes bristles at the title, and Spike seems to notice, because he adds, "Wes."

"So," I decide to intervene. "What did Giles have to say?"

"Well, he checked out the text, and it agrees pretty closely with what we were given. Maybe too closely."

"No, not about that. What did he say about Spike being back?"

"He didn't actually express an opinion. I suspect you'll be hearing from him soon. He was disappointed, though, that you've become involved with all this."

I suspect that the disappointment is also to do with Spike being back. Even now, after all this time, even though Spike was the reason we got out of Sunnydale alive, he doesn't want me involved with him.

Spike puts a hand on my shoulder, the gesture comforting, and I know he can sense my feelings of frustration. Regardless of our history and the fact that he was part of a plan to destroy Spike, I still instinctively want Giles’ approval. Of course, it doesn't actually matter any more. Once, I hid my involvement with Spike from my friends because I knew they wouldn't approve. Now, if only I knew for sure what our relationship was, I'd shout it from the rooftops, and the fact that he's human now actually doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to that.

I make an effort to stop dwelling in the past or in the future or wherever I am, and get back to the reason we're here.

"So, where do we find these demons?"

"Well, the information from both sources agrees that they prefer sparsely populated areas. However, the Wolfram and Hart dossier implies that they’ve taken over the running of one of the more prestigious hotel complexes in Las Vegas."

"They like somewhere quiet, so they set up in Las Vegas?" I ask.

"Apparently they’ve been, I suppose you’d say, silent partners in a number of businesses for some time. The fact that they’re becoming more open is one of the key concerns of the Senior Partners. Well, that and the fact that they’ve recently become aware of just how much money they have at their disposal."

"So, how do these demons cope with running hotels? What do they look like?"

"Well," Wes answers, "the details I’ve got are pretty vague. The best quote is that they look ‘humanoid’."

"So, do they look human or humanoid? Is there some way of telling by looking at them?" I demand.

"Not as far as I know," Wes admits. "The information in the dossier pretty much implies that they’ll look human."

"So, how do I contact them?" I ask.

"The suggestion here," Wes answers, pointing at the paper in front of him, "is that you book an extended stay at this hotel. It’s called the Dolce Vita. It’s Italian themed, and, apparently rather luxurious. I looked up the details online."

He hands me some pages, complete with photos of a hotel whose lobby could probably encompass some medium-sized towns. The photos of the suites look similarly grand.

"Eh," I manage, looking at the rates. "I’m not exactly destitute, but I can’t afford an extended stay at this place."

"Then it’s just as well Wolfram and Hart is paying. And, they’ll also give you an expense account with enough money that you don’t draw attention to yourself."

Gina’s looking over my shoulder at the pictures, and I’ve got to say, she’s looking rather wistful. Spike’s expression is different. He looks excited.

"What?" I ask.

He grins.

"Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"Well, an extended stay in a place like that? Sounds like fun. And all those casinos. I could probably make myself a pretty sum once I get started. Oh, and a bit of violence thrown in. Sounds like the ideal holiday."

"It isn’t going to be a holiday, er vacation," I remind him.

"Speak for yourself. You’re not the one who’s been doing nothing for the past few years."

"And anyway, who says you’re going?" I demand.

"Not going to start all that again, are you? Besides, it makes sense. Single woman, on her own in a place like that, you’re going to stand out. A couple, on the other hand …"

He’s right. And, the prospect of sharing the trip with him is looking positively attractive right now.

"Oh, that’s good," he interrupts my thoughts.

"What?"

"Look at that. They’ve got private gyms. You can hire them, and use them without anyone else being around. Sounds like the perfect place for you to work out too. All this office work’s probably made you soft."

Soft! Me? "Not too soft to save you the other night," I remind him.

"Aw, that? I’d have finished them. I was just a bit slower than usual because of the drinks I’d had."

"If I hadn’t arrived when I did …"

"Ok, you two," Gina holds a hand up. "Some couple you’re going to make if you argue like that. Or then again, maybe that's exactly what you need to do."

I smile at her, but the truth is, I’ve been enjoying the argument. It feels like old times, and by the look on Spike’s face, he feels it too.

"Buffy," Wes breaks into my thoughts. "I’d suggest you let me look into things for another couple of days before you go to Las Vegas. I’ll organise the booking, and the Wolfram and Hart funds for you while I’ve still got access to those things. I’d be happier doing it myself than leaving it to Lilah, just in case."

"Fine," I answer. "Sounds like I’m going to have to do some shopping anyway. I mean, if I’m going to look like I belong in a place like that …"

Wes looks at me, as if he’s daring me to continue, but Gina pipes up. "I think you should get her an advance, Wes. It’s all part of the job after all."

He looks from one of us to the other, and sighs deeply.

"And I suppose you’re planning on accompanying her on this shopping trip?"

"Naturally," she answers.

He sighs again, this time with resignation. "Ok, but remember, you’re not going to Las Vegas, so you won’t need to dress the part."

"As if I’m going to spend serious money while I look like a whale," she huffs at him.

"You don’t, and never could look like a whale," he answers, kissing her on the cheek. Gina has other ideas, though, and turns her head to kiss him full on the mouth.

"I think it’s time we were going," Spike remarks, with a sideways glance at the other couple.

Wes pulls away, looking embarrassed.

"No, there’s no …" he mutters.

"Was there anything else you wanted to tell us right now?" I ask.

"Well, no, but …"

"Then Spike’s right. We should go."

I turn to look at Gina who winks at me conspiratorially. "I’ll call you when Wes’s got the money for our shopping trip."

"Do that," I answer.

Neither of them follows us to the door, so I assume Gina must have grabbed Wes again.

"Nice lady," Spike comments as we get to the street.

"Gina? One of the best," I agree.

"So, you ok with this?"

"What?"

"Playing at being a couple. If it’s too difficult, we could try something different."

"I thought you were the one who was all for it."

"I am. It’s the safest option, but if you don’t want to share a room with me, I’d understand."

"Where did I spend the night before the final battle against the First? Why would you think I’d have a problem?"

"Don’t know. Just thought I should give you an option."

"My option would be to have you safe somewhere."

"Not going to happen."

"Then, I’d rather have you where I can keep an eye on you."

"Fine."

There’s silence for a few moments, then he adds, "Does that mean I need more clothes too?"

Gina and I set out on our shopping trip a couple of days later. Wes still wants to do some work before we go to Vegas, but he has managed to get his hands on enough money to make my monthly outlay look a bit basic.

To Spike's intense disappointment, Wes gave me the money in the form of a credit card, with strict instructions that Spike wasn't to touch it. So that's why he's skulking beside Gina and me as we look through the latest collections.

Things have been better the last couple of days. I don't think either one of us is exactly comfortable yet, but he seems much more like his old self. At least … he's like an amalgamation of his old selves.

The soul changed him when he first got it. He became more emotionally vulnerable than he had been, and he lost some of the natural exuberance that had always been his trademark. Of course, before he saved the world, he got a lot of that back, but there was still something about him - a lack of confidence perhaps - and to a large extent that's still present - maybe even worse than in those last days.

I don't think it's the soul that's responsible now, though. This time, it's his humanity. He seems to be just waiting for me to do or say something that will vindicate his own belief that human-Spike isn't worthy of love. And if I ever get my hands on the people who made him feel that way, then I might not be responsible for my actions.

So, as I said, here we are. And it's putting a bit of a damper on things having him standing around. He seemed interested at first, but as the morning's gone on, and we've moved from store to store, he's just become more and more irritating.

"Ok, Spike," I say, putting the dress I'd been admiring back on the rack. "Let's do some shopping for you. Then, if you want, you can go home and leave Gina and I to finish."

"If you don't mind," Gina smiles at me, "I'll go and sit down and have a drink."

"Gina, you should have said you were tired!"

"Buffy, I'm fine, and I wouldn't miss this for anything. Getting to spend this much money on clothes even by proxy? I'm going to remember this for a long time. But, you and Spike should go and look at things for him. What do you have in mind anyway?"

"I can talk too," Spike reminds us. "And it doesn't matter what Buffy has in mind, because I'm going to decide what I wear. Now, there was that coffee place we passed a couple of minutes ago - would that be ok?"

He's ignoring me, and talking directly to Gina.

"Yeah, that'd be fine."

"Ok, why don't I escort you there, while Moneybags here pays for whichever fripperies she's chosen. Then I'll meet her outside of here in five minutes."

"I don't need an escort," Gina reminds him.

"Of course you don't. Doesn't mean you don’t get one."

And, just like that, they're off, and I'm left there feeling forgotten. Still, it's probably better this way. If we can get rid of Spike, then Gina and I can go and look at some more personal stuff. Of course, the idea of Spike seeing that sort of thing is distinctly pleasurable, but I'd rather that the first time he sees them, I'll actually be wearing them.

Spike returns as he said he would, although it seems closer to fifteen minutes than five. I decide not to say anything about that, and instead ask him, "Ok, what did you have in mind?"

He immediately points to a store across the way. I follow the line of his finger, and sigh deeply. It sells leather, and while Spike in leather is definitely something to be encouraged, I can't help but think it's not right for the current situation.

"Maybe later, Spike," I tell him, waiting for the rejoinder, but instead he grins at me. I ignore this unexpected reaction, and make a suggestion of my own. "You're going to need at least one suit, and a couple of formal shirts and ties, but the rest can be casual, providing it's upscale enough. Let's start in that department store over there, see what they've got."

He shrugs, and we walk to the men's department. I ignore the more basic makes, and head for the designer things. I start picking out casual shirts in a variety of shades - from navy to cornflower blue, teal to maroon. He picks out some black and red. I decide to let the black go - I mean, Spike and black, they sort of go together, but the red just looks - tacky. I point out a burgundy colour instead, and he shrugs and accepts it.

Next, we go and look at pants. He steers towards jeans, but I persuade him to look at some classier stuff, chinos and the like. He huffs a bit, but eventually accepts a few suggestions, then goes off to try them on.

Spike in colours - it's a revelation. Actually, now that he's got a bit of colour in his skin, the black is a little harsh, while a dark navy is much more flattering. Still, if I can get him out of jeans and t-shirts, it'll be a start.

I suppose I should have known it, but I don't think there's a blue he doesn't look terrific in. Even he seems rather pleasantly surprised. I suppose the whole 'no reflection' thing makes it hard to see what suits you, and despite the fact that there're a few recognisably Spike items in the mix, I pronounce myself happy with what we buy.

"Ok," I say, as we pick up our bags. "We need the suit."

"Why?" he asks.

I just glare at him.

"Why would I need a suit? I'm assuming our purported reason for being in Vegas is for a holiday, so why would I need a suit?"

"I just thought …"

"What? That you'd like to dress me up like one of those stupid dolls?"

"No, it's just …"

"I'm not wearing a suit, and that's flat. So, anything else you think I should have?"

He looks determined, and I'm tempted to argue, but he's right. A suit probably isn't necessary, much as I'd love to see him in one.

"Ok, what about underwear, and something to sleep in?"

"Don't wear any, as you jolly well know."

"I know he … Spike didn't, but I thought, maybe, as a human, it'd be … more comfortable."

"I won't deny it was easier before, but I'm not about to change the habits of a century."

"Ok," I shrug. "So, anything else?"

"A nice watch might be a good idea."

I think about it. He's right, he could do with a watch, and a run of the mill Casio just wouldn't look the part.

"Ok," I agree, casting around for a jewellers.

"Passed one back a ways."

"Oh," I remember. "What time did you say we'd meet Gina?"

"Didn’t. No point in her hanging around if we get delayed. Said we'd call her when we've finished."

I feel a pang of envy. He's being so thoughtful of Gina, more so than he's been of me since he came back. I know, pregnant lady, and in his time, pregnant ladies were expected to sit around a lot with their feet up, so I get his feelings. Just wish they were directed at me.

And then I make the connection. I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me, but the thought of Spike treating me like that, follows on to the idea of me being pregnant. With his child. With Angel, well, before he had other ideas, being pregnant was something for the distant future, when he'd won his reward. With Spike, that possibility is immediate, or at least it would be, if he could only accept my feelings for him aren't mistaken.

I realise he's looking at me quizzically, so I pull my mind back to the present.

"What's the smile for?" he asks.

Smile? I was smiling? Can't tell him the truth, so I desperately think of an alternative.

"I was just thinking I might see something in the jewellers too."

"Oh, yeah. Something with diamonds, and white gold."

He says that as if it's something he's thought about, and I don't mean in the last few minutes.

He looks away when I scrutinise his face, as if he realises he gave away more than he intended.

We pass the leather store as we walk, and I can't help but notice the look he gives a jacket in the window. Although it's leather, it's very different from the coat he always wears - it's cut like a suit coat, short and it would look great on him. We walk past, and he doesn't say anything, so I decide not to let him know I noticed.

We arrive at the jewellers, and it doesn't take Spike long to find a watch that meets his requirements. But then again, why he needs water resistance to that depth, I can't begin to understand. I've been browsing around while Spike was choosing, but I was keeping an eye on him, so I haven't seen very much. Having made his choice, Spike whispers something to the assistant who gives me a knowing look before disappearing.

"What did you say?" I ask.

"Just asked him to bring out something for you to try."

"What? I can't choose for myself?"

"Course you can, Pet. You've got the card, after all. Just, humour me, and try this. Spotted it when we first came in, and thought you'd like it."

The assistant returns with an ensemble that's simply lovely, and beautifully simple. As he suggested, it's white gold, and it consists of earrings, a necklace and bracelet. The earrings are of a simple drop design, with small, but beautifully cut diamonds at the bottom. The bracelet is made of plates, and every third one is set with a diamond to match the earrings, although a little bigger. The necklace is a bigger version of the bracelet, with the addition of a drop pendant which is spectacular.

I try it on, and admire myself in the mirror supplied. It's really beautiful, but one glance at the price tag, and I know the advance Wes gave me won't cover it. I make appropriately appreciative noises, but reject it. While the assistant is returning it to its home, I tell Spike it's too expensive.

"For now, maybe," he shrugs. "Come and look at this."

He drags me over to another display, and points out another set. It's actually somewhat similar in design, although on a smaller scale. There are small diamonds on the earrings, and there's a much smaller drop pendant on the necklace, but otherwise it's unadorned. Beautiful as the other set was, this one is actually more attractive. The price is still more than I would have considered, so I compromise and just get the necklace and earrings. I can't help but think a bracelet would actually get in the way if I have to fight.

We emerge a short while later with our purchases. Spike took my cell phone out of my purse while I was paying for things, and he's chatting to Gina when I emerge.

To hear his side of the conversation, you'd think they'd been friends for years, and again, I feel a pang of jealousy, and then guilt. I'm jealous of the easy camaraderie they seem to have developed, and guilty because he never had friends before. No, that's not true, he had Clem, but I'm not sure he'd have described his other poker buddies as friends. Before, my friends either tolerated him or hated him, and I never had to worry about feeling unimportant to him. Apart from that time with Anya, he never gave me any reason to doubt that I was the centre of his world.

Now, he's got everything. I shudder when I realise that he could walk away from me and find someone else. He could make a life with another woman, have a family, the whole package. The idea leaves me chilled.

"Cold, Pet?" he asks. He's finished talking to Gina, and he's looking at me with a mixture of concern and surprise on his face. I hadn't realised that the chill had actually caused me to shiver.

"It's just the air conditioning - it's a bit on the cold side."

"Mm hmm. Here, want my coat?"

"No, I'm fine. Let's go and meet Gina."

"Ok," he agrees, and we go back the way we've come.

"Feeling better?" I ask when I see her.

"Yeah, I'm good to go. Did you get what Spike needed?"

"Some of it," I agree. "We may need another trip later."

"We're through," he disagrees. "So, if you ladies don't mind, I'm going to toddle off back home."

We say our goodbyes, and Gina and I head off to look for some special underwear. On the way there, we pass the leather store again, and I drag Gina inside. When we emerge, we're carrying the jacket he admired. I've taken his size from the shirts we bought, and I'm just hoping that it's right for the jacket too.

We walk in silence for a few seconds, but she's biting her lip. I'm just about to ask what's up, when she breaks the silence.

"You know, Buffy, there's something I don't understand."

"What's that?" I ask.

"It's … Look, if I say this wrong, it's going to sound very critical, and I don't mean it that way. Try to remember that."

"Ok," I reply, my curiosity piqued, but unsure what she means.

"Well, tell me, is Spike different than before?"

"Different? In what way?"

"Any way."

"Well, it depends on when you're talking about. I mean, when I first met him, he was all about killing me."

"Well, since you knew he loved you."

I think about it. "There've been some changes, especially when it comes to how he's tried to show me that he loved me, but since the last couple of years? Not so much. It was like he had to get used to human ways of doing things, but inside, he's pretty much the person he always was."

"Then, I'm wondering why things went so wrong between you. It's just, he's so … likeable. I mean, he's intelligent, thoughtful, funny, and it's obvious he worships you…"

"Huh," I reply before I can stop myself.

"What's happened?" she asks, her voice full of artificial tolerance.

"Nothing, it's just, he's been turning on the charm for you, hasn't he?"

"You're jealous!"

"No, well, yes. I suppose I am. I never felt like I had to share him before. He was mine, and no one else wanted him. Now, he's going to have lots of friends, and …"

"And you don't think you can compete?"

I don't say anything, knowing that she's got it right.

"Buffy," she says, stopping and putting a hand on my shoulder so we're facing one another. "He's terrified, and he's scared of being human, but his love for you shines out above everything else. You'll have to get used to sharing him, though. I mean, he's going to need friends too. He's going to have to get a job, find out who he is now. You had a chance to do it, and you have to let him do it too."

"But," I answer. "What will I do if he finds out who he is and realises he doesn't love me any more?"

"If it happens, you'll just have to accept it. But, if you want my opinion - not going to happen. He needs to readjust, but I think he's the type that loves forever."

"I hope so, … It's just, I thought, I'd get him back, and tell him that I loved him, and that'd be it. I didn't think I'd have to … "

"Win him?" she offers.

Yeah, that's it exactly. I took his feelings for granted for so long, and now I can't. It's going to take some readjustment. But, the Slayer never was one to run from a challenge.

We reach our destination, and laugh our way through an hour. Still, I'm able to get some things that, if only I get the chance to model them for him, should make sure Spike won't be looking too closely at anyone else.

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