DISCLAIMER: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Mutant Enemy Productions. I retain rights to the plot, but not the characters. This story is meant for enjoyment purposes only. No infringement is intended.

AUTHOR: Kate

SYNOPSIS: B/S Fic. Answer to a challenge number 8 on Kantayra’s site. Buffy doesn’t die at the end of S5’s, The Gift, but Spike feels he’s completely failed as Dawn is hurt. Just as Buffy discovers her newfound feelings for the vampire, he distances himself from the Scoobies because he feels unworthy. Will Buffy be able to prove him wrong or will the new Evil in town prove him right?

ATONEMENT

Buffy Summers ran up the steps of the tall tower as fast as her legs could carry her. Her Slayer strength combined with determination, anger and a healthy dose of fear spurred her on, pushing past her aching limbs and shortness of breath as she finally reached the top and came to a shuddering halt.

Within seconds, she had taken in the scene before her and was on the move again, striding purposefully towards the couple at the end of the gangplank. An old man stood with his back to her but she ignored him, concerned only with reaching the young, dark-haired girl that stood in front of him, tied between two poles. The mystical Key that could open the doorway to Hell with just a drop of her blood. So powerful and yet so innocent.

As the Slayer, Buffy was sworn to do whatever she could to prevent the ritual from taking place. Even go so far as to kill the Key should she be too late and the ritual had begun. As her sister, however, she knew she'd never be able to do it.

"Dawn!" she called out, causing the young girl to lift her head and stare back at her.

Her tearful face a mixture of fear, relief and hope, Dawn desperately acknowledged her elder sisters presence. "Buffy!"

At that moment, the old man turned away from Dawn to face Buffy and her stomach dropped sickenly as she saw the small smile on his face and the large, bloodied knife in his right hand. She couldn't be too late. She wouldn't. Not now. Not when she was so near.

Quickening her pace, she barely registered the old man speak to her as she shoved him out of her way causing him to fall off the tower to the ground, and his death, below.

"Buffy, it hurts," Dawn sobbed as her sister came up to her.

"Don't worry, Dawn. Everything's going to be OK," Buffy assured her as calmly as she could while checking her sister's wound. It was a shallow cut, but the blood was already starting to form into drips that would fall within seconds if she didn't act fast.

Almost in anticipation of the event, lightning suddenly flashed across the night sky followed quickly by a low rumble of thunder.

Buffy briefly glanced upwards, then returned her attention back to the wound. "Sorry, no opening of portals and demon dimensions today, thank you very much," she muttered as she grabbed a handful of skirt from Dawn's dress, bunched it up in her hand and held it fast against the cut.

Her sister immediately shut her eyes and gasped sharply, biting her bottom lip against the pain.

"Sorry, Dawnie, but you know we can't take any chances, right?" the Slayer asked in concern.

Dawn opened her eyes and nodded slightly, a trembling smile making its way onto her lips. "I know. Thank you for coming to get me."

"Not about to lose you," Buffy replied as she gave her a reassuring smile in return. "Now," she said abruptly, turning businesslike as looked up at the ropes binding her sister's arms, "Let's get you untied."

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

Down below, the Scoobies paused as a mighty crash of thunder echoed around them.

The two witches clung to each other as they looked up at the raging sky in dismay fearing that the ritual had begun. Willow Rosenburg had only just recently cured her wicca lover, Tara Maclay, after the Hell God, Glory, had taken her mind and as she gazed from the sky to her girlfriend, she wondered if these were going to be their last minutes together.

Tara looked back at her and smiled softly before another loud boom filled the air and they moved closer, drawing comfort from each other's contact. If they died, it would be together.

Hidden away from prying eyes, Buffy's Watcher, Rupert Giles removed his hand from Glory's alter-ego, Ben and tried to ignore the pang of remorse he felt at killing another human being - even if said human being was sharing his body with a psychotic Hell God. Always casualties in war, he told himself firmly as he slowly stood up.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and he stared up at the tower. His earlier conversation with Buffy fore front in his mind, he knew what he had to try and do now that the ritual had started. The Key had to be destroyed. Dawn and Buffy were like the daughters he never had and it was with a heavy heart he walked over to the tower's steps and began to climb.

Nearby, Xander Harris and his fiancée, Anya, stood together looking up at the storm. Suddenly, a fork of lightning streaked down towards them, hitting a part of the tower. Seeing some of the structure collapse, the ex-vengeance demon shoved Xander out of the way just as wood and brick came hurtling downwards knocking her to the ground unconscious.

"Anya!" Xander yelled, fearing the worst when he sat up and saw his love laying prone on the ground a few feet away. He scrambled over to her and desperately clawed away the debris. "Anya…Hon," he said, reaching out and laying a hand along her cheek. "Speak to me," he pleaded. "Please".

His concerned frown turned into a relieved smile as she finally moaned. His relief was short lived however, when she turned her head towards him revealing a nasty gash on her forehead that was still bleeding. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a weak smile "Are you OK?" he asked softly, smiling tenderly back at her.

"Bit of a headache," she whispered back. He glanced concernedly at her wound as she added, "Has it started?"

Looking back at her, he followed her gaze upwards to the angry sky and let out a worried sigh. "I think so."

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

At the top of the tower, Buffy untied the rope binding her sisters right hand as quickly as she could using her free hand. "Here," she instructed as Dawn‘s hand fell free, "keep pressing your dress to your wound."

Dawn did as she was told and Buffy rapidly freed her other hand, then put her arm around her and slowly moved her away from the edge. Suddenly, lightning struck the tower and it rocked violently causing Dawn to let out a frightened scream.

"We have to hurry," Buffy told her sister as they made their way to the steps and began their descent.

Moving as fast as they were able considering Dawn’s injury, Buffy didn’t let up the pace until she noticed that the storm had started to calm down and the tower had stabilised. Letting out a relieved sigh, she smiled at her sister and slowed. They’d done it. They’d beaten a Hell God and come out of it, if not unscathed, then at least alive. "It’s over, Dawnie," she said, squeezing her sisters arm gently. "You’re gonna be fine. We all are."

Dawn smiled back, then grimaced slightly as a shaft of pain from her wound went through her. "I think I’ll be finer when I get this cut seen to," she commented wryly. "It kinda smarts."

"Oh God, sorry, Dawnie!" the Slayer exclaimed as she immediately urged her sister on down the steps again. They were almost at the bottom when they were met by Giles who was on his way up.

"Oh…Buffy…Dawn," he gasped as he stopped and bent over in front of them, trying to catch he breath. "You’re…both alright?" he asked, looking at them in concern.

"Dawn’s hurt but we stopped the blood in time so almost killing yourself running up these stairs was a waste of time, Giles. You don‘t have to worry about the portal opening anytime soon," Buffy told him coldly as she helped Dawn past him and continued down. She knew he’d seen the storm and thought the ritual had begun and his words from earlier that evening came rushing back.

He’d made it clear that he’d stop the portal opening no matter what the cost…even Dawn’s life. Even her own. She’d heard him say the words but had never thought he’d actually go through with it. Not really. Not until she’d seen him coming up the stairs.

She heard his sharp intake of breath at her words and him call out her name but she kept moving. "Not now, Giles. We have to get Dawn to the hospital."

Her sister made a sound of protest, but Buffy was adamant. "Dawn, I saw the amount of blood on the knife that demon was holding. The cut must be deeper than it looks. We need to get it seen to."

Dawn suddenly grabbed Buffys’ arm bringing them to a halt as she turned wide, frightened eyes to her sisters face. "Oh God, Buffy. Spike!" she exclaimed, fresh tears filling her eyes.

"Spike?" the Slayer repeated with a frown at hearing the blond vampire‘s name. Then, noticing Dawn’s distress, a feeling of dread shot through her. "What happened?" she asked trying to keep calm.

"He was up there but there was nothing he could do. He tried to save me but Doc was too quick for him and stabbed him in the back," the young girl told her as her tears fell. "The blood, Buffy. It’s his."

The Slayer looked at her in shock, then glanced upwards. "He was…but I didn’t see him…," she began, then blanched as a sudden thought hit. "Oh my God, he’s not…" She stopped unable to voice the thought aloud, desperately trying to recall if she’d seen any piles of dust. Of course not, the gangplank was grated. He would’ve slipped through and she wouldn‘t have anything left…

"No!" Dawn cried out. "He didn’t die." Her face took on a pained look. "At least, I don’t think he did." Her face crumpled and the tears came faster. "Oh God, his face, Buffy…he stared at me and he looked so…so…devastated, so helpless and then Doc pushed him off the tower…"

"Pushed him off?!" Buffy echoed sharply as she leant over the railing slightly to look first up, then down. "Oh, crap." Swallowing hard at the height he had fallen, she looked back at Dawn, torn.

"Look, I’m fine, you go and see if he’s alright," her sister urged with a watery smile.

"No, I need to get you…"

"I’ll make sure Dawn gets down safely," Giles interrupted quietly.

Buffy stared uncertainly at him for a moment and felt a sudden pang of guilt that she would even consider that he had ulterior motives. This was Giles for goodness sake and besides that, the danger had passed. She nodded and gave him a small smile then stepped aside as he moved next to Dawn and placed his arm around her waist.

"Thanks, Giles. I’ll see you two downstairs," Buffy said before clambering down the steps as quickly as she could.

"I hope he’s OK," Dawn uttered softly as she watched her sisters rapid descent.

"I’m sure he is," Giles replied with as much assurance as he could muster while moving her slowly on down the steps. "Now, let’s get you downstairs and off to hospital, shall we?"

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

Buffy reached the bottom of the tower and frantically scanned the surrounding area searching for the blond haired vampire. A movement to her right grabbed her attention and she turned quickly to see Willow and Tara making their way slowly towards her, arms wrapped around each other for support.

"You two OK?" Buffy asked taking in the dishevelled appearance of the witches.

"We’re good," the redhead replied smiling softly at her girlfriend before looking back at the Slayer. "What about you? No ritual, so I’m thinking everything went to plan?"

"More or less. Dawn’s wounded but we stopped the blood in time."

"Is she hurt bad?" Tara asked worriedly.

"No," the Slayer reassured them with small smile. "She has a cut on her stomach but it looks quite shallow."

"Oh good…not for the wound…but for the fact Dawnie‘s going to be OK," explained Willow on a relieved sigh before looking expectantly at the tower. "So, is Spike bringing her down now?"

"No, Giles is," the Slayer replied absently, the mention of the vampire’s name making her look around again. Her eyes fell on several piles of rubble that had shards of broken wood caught between the stones pointing skywards and felt her stomach clench in fear. If he’d landed on one of those…

"But I sent Spike up to help," the witch commented in confusion and then looked surprised as Buffy turned back to her, worry clearly evident on her face.

"He was stabbed and pushed off the tower, Will. I‘ve got to find him and make sure he‘s OK." At her friend’s curious look, she hastily added, "I…I mean because I promised Dawn…you know…to find him. She was worried."

Willow and Tara shared a glance before they both looked back at her with understanding smiles. "Of course. Dawn. We get it," Willow replied with an arch of her eyebrow.

Buffy felt her face start to warm and turned away unwilling to analyse at that moment why she was showing obvious stress over someone who, up until recently, she had purported to vehemently dislike. Find him first, then deal, she told herself firmly.

"So, you don’t happen to know where he landed, do you?" the Slayer asked hopefully.

"If you’re talking about the Evil Dead, he’s over there, Buff," came Xander’s voice from behind. She quickly turned and saw him nod his head to the right as he walked towards them carrying Anya. "I would’ve checked to see how he was but I’ve kinda got my hands full and to be honest, I really couldn‘t care less," he added, a small smile belying his words.

At the news that Spike wasn’t dust, relief flooded through the Slayer and she relaxed enough to roll her eyes and shake her head at her male friend. Then, running an experienced, but concerned, gaze over the girl in his arms, she frowned slightly. "That head wound looks nasty and you need to stay awake. When Giles brings Dawn down, she and I will go with you two to the hospital," she decided already moving off to continue her search for the vampire in the direction Xander had gestured.

He watched her until she was out of sight then turned to his friends. "Since when did the Buffster give a damn about the Bleached Wonder?" Xander asked the two witches with a frown as he started walking towards his car with them in tow.

"I’m guessing pretty much from the time she thought he might be dead," Willow replied, sharing a look with Tara.

"Shouldn’t that thought bring a smile to her face?" he queried uncomprehendingly.

"God, Xander, you can be so dense," Anya complained tiredly in his arms.

"Thanks, An," he retorted sarcastically coming to a stop by his car.

"Well, you are," she insisted, yawning widely. Tara walked around them and opened the back door of the vehicle as Anya continued, "It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that Buffy cares for Spike."

Her fiancé looked stunned. "You know, Hon, I think that bump on your head has made you delirious," he said glibly as he gently placed her on the back seat then straightened up. "Buffy’s been there, done that and has the, ‘Vampire’s Suck’, T-shirt. Believe me, she’s so not going down that twisted road again, right, Will?"

When the redhead didn’t reply, he looked at her with a frown. "Willow?" he pressed, willing her to agree. She gave him a rueful smile and his eyes widened comically before he turned to the other witch. "Tara?" he asked faintly but with an edge of hope.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then also smiled apologetically and shrugged her shoulders.

A look of dismay spread over his face but before he could comment, a soft snore floated up from inside the car and he looked down to find Anya fast asleep. Worry pushed all thoughts of Buffy and Spike out of his head for the moment as he knelt down to tend to his fiancée.

END CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 3

Upon reaching Buffy’s house, Giles excused himself to go and make a phone call about Ben. He felt it only right that the man should at least have a proper burial and so he‘d decided to make a call to the authorities. Anonymously, of course.

Tara headed to the kitchen to make them all a hot drink while Willow and Spike went into the lounge. "Right, you just sit there while I go and get some supplies and stuff," the redhead instructed as she pointed the vampire towards the couch. "I‘ll only be a minute."

"You really don’t need to do this, you know, Red," Spike sighed as he turned to face her but found himself talking to an empty hall. "Not that my opinion matters of course," he muttered grumpily as he made his way over to the couch.

Taking off his duster, he held it up and scowled at the hole in the back. "Another war wound, eh, old girl? Sorry about that. You‘ll have more scars than me if this keeps up." He gently folded the coat and placed it on the arm of the settee, running his hand lovingly over the cool leather. "Still, nothing more than I deserve though, eh?" he continued, his hand fisting into the soft fabric. "Should’ve been quicker, should’ve knocked the knife out of Doc’s hand," he admonished himself, angrily balling his coat between his hands. "Anything! Then the Niblet wouldn’t have got HURT, you pathetic twat!" With a loud growl, he turned and furiously threw his duster across the room, knocking a lamp over in the process.

Grimacing at the pain the savage movement had caused the wound in his back, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes waiting for the throbbing to ease. Body finally relaxing, he opened his eyes again and surveyed the damage he’d done.

"Sod it," he groaned as he eyed the mess on the floor. With a sudden self-derisive snort of laughter, he shook his head then walked over to the broken light and began picking up the pieces, fervently wishing that it would be as easy to do so with his own unlife. By the time he’d finished, he’d cursed himself to all kinds of Hell and back and had thoroughly convinced himself that he’d failed in keeping his promise to Buffy. He hadn’t kept Dawn safe and she was at the hospital this very minute having the result of his failure tended to.

"Everything OK?" Giles asked, popping his head around the corner, the noise having disturbed his phone conversation.

"Peachy," the vampire muttered sarcastically.

The Watcher’s eyes narrowed when he saw Spike holding what was left of the light. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much, Rupert," Spike answered blithely, dumping the remains of the lamp into the waste basket with a loud clatter. "Just the stupid vamp ballocksing things up…again!"

"Oh…well…very good," the man replied, his attention being drawn back to the phone which was emitting frustrated sounds. "Carry on."

"Carry on?!" Spike repeated in disbelief as he watched Giles walk away. "Right, I’ll just wreck the place then, shall I?" he added loudly, then shook his head as he looked around the room coming to a decision. He had to get out of there. Now.

Not only was it obvious that no-one really gave a damn whether he was there or not, he just couldn’t be here when they brought Dawn back. He couldn’t face her. Couldn’t face them. Any of them. Didn’t want to have to sit through the long dissection of what had happened with Glory. What could’ve been done different. What could’ve been done better. Because he knew then that he’d eventually see the accusatory glares directed at him and hear the damning words that would confirm how truly worthless he was; and tonight, more than any other, he really couldn’t bear it.

Picking up his coat, he gave it a shake and put it back on. Ignoring the soreness of his leg and stabbing pain in his back, he strode towards the door and grabbed a hold of the handle. He was going back to his crypt, get stinking drunk, then sleep for a week and no-one was going to stop him.

"Hold it right there, Mister! Just where do think you’re sneaking off to?" came Willow’s best authoritative voice.

Hand still resting on the doorknob, Spike jumped slightly and turned to see two stern looking witches staring back at him, their hands full of ointments and bandages.

"I am not sneaking," he retorted defensively.

"Are so sneaking," the witch insisted. "Your whole posture was one of pure and…and positive…sneak. Well, apart from the fact that I’d expect you to probably be a little more…you know…kinda…hunched over…"

"Oh, and on tip toes," Tara added helpfully.

"Yeah, right," Willow agreed, sharing a smile with her girlfriend before glancing back at the vampire and adding teasingly, "Not to mention looking over your shoulder every now and then with an evil grin."

Spike threw his hands up in disgust and took a couple of steps towards them. "What am I, Dick bloody Dastardly for God’s sake? Big Bad here, remember? I do not creep around like some ridiculous cartoon villain, all hat and moustache," he replied with a frown.

"I think a moustache might suit you," said Tara, tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes as if imagining how he might look.

"I think a goatee would be better," Willow offered, tilting her head the same way as Tara’s and adopting the same expression.

Spike let out an angry growl, called them stupid bints and spun around, heading towards the door.

"Wait, Spike, you can’t go yet, we haven’t cleaned up your injuries," Willow called out as she hurried after him.

"Don’t bother," he flung over his shoulder irately, as he opened the door and stalked out into the night. He couldn’t handle one more second of their mocking. First Buffy and now them. Out of all the Scoobies, the witches were the ones he actually quite liked and he couldn’t help but be a little hurt at their behaviour. When it came down to it though, he wasn’t really surprised. He deserved to be ridiculed.

Just as he reached the sidewalk, a firm hand gripped his arm and he turned to see Willow standing there with her resolve face firmly in place. Spike was about to tear his arm away when her features softened and she said quietly, "I’m sorry, Spike. Really. We were only having some fun." At his scowl, she added by way of explanation, "You know, post-almost-apocalypse-near-death, kind of teasing. Nothing meant by it."

She gave him a tentative smile and after a few seconds, he sighed. "Apology accepted, Red. Can I go now?"

"Nope, injury fixage first," she replied, trying to pull him back towards the house. When it looked as though he was going to object again, she played her ace. "Buffy really does want you feeling better. You wouldn‘t want to upset her what with having to worry about Dawnie and all, would you?" she asked plaintively, pinning him with an innocent look.

The vampire shook his head in resignation. "That’s a low blow, Witch," he commented in half-hearted annoyance, as he took a step back towards the house. He’d go get this done and then leave.

Willow smiled triumphantly but didn’t let go of his arm until he was sitting between the two Wicca’s on the Summers’ couch.

"Take off your shirt and coat," Willow ordered as she began arranging the various first aid supplies on the coffee table.

Unable to resist, Spike raised his eyebrows, turned to Tara and smirked. "Is that the same chat up line she used on you?" he asked the Wicca interestedly.

Tara reddened slightly and laughed. "No, but it would’ve worked just as well."

"Tara!" Willow exclaimed, her look of shock rapidly changing to a smile as she added, "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," her lover practically purred in response.

"Would’ve saved a whole lot of time if I had known that earlier," the redhead declared with feeling. The two women shared a grin then looked at the vampire expectantly.

With a sigh, Spike stood and slipped out of his duster then pulled his T-shirt over his head, holding back a grimace as the knife wound protested painfully at the movement.

Carefully sitting down again, he held himself still as the two women began their administrations. Tara patched up the cut on his face while Willow tended to his back. When they were finished they asked about his leg but upon hearing that Spike and underwear didn’t mix, they all agreed that he’d be better off just resting it for a few days.

The witches cleared everything away then Tara went back into the kitchen to fetch their drinks. Willow stayed with Spike to help him put his T-shirt on so that he didn‘t disturb the dressing on his back too much.

"I’m not two, you know," he growled when she chirpily ordered him to put his arm up then proceeded to slide the material over his left hand and down. Unfazed, Willow ordered his arm down and repeated her command for his right. His moaning at the humiliation of it all was mostly muffled by Willow pulling the fabric down over his head, none too gently.

"OW! Watch it, Red. Almost had a fellow’s ears off," he complained, rubbing at his left lobe.

"Oops, sorry," she giggled, looking anything but.

At that moment, Tara came back with the drinks and Giles entered the room bearing news. "I’ve just spoken to Buffy and she says that Xander is bringing her and Dawn home now. Unfortunately, Anya has to stay in for observation overnight."

"Is Dawnie, OK?" asked Tara in concern.

"From what Buffy told me, Dawn’s had to have sutures but other than that she’s fine," the Watcher explained with a smile. "I’m sure after some rest she’ll be right as rain."

"Oh, well that’s great," said Willow with a relieved sigh. "I mean, not so much for Anya, because…hospitals…yuck…but definite good for Dawn. Right?"

The last was directed at Spike who had stopped listening to the conversation going on around him upon hearing that Buffy and Dawn were on their way back. He stared back at the redhead vacantly for a moment and then nodded his head. "Uh, yeah".

The urge to get out, and get out fast, came back to him in full force. When Tara held out a mug of hot chocolate to him, Spike all but snatched it out of her hand and drained it in one long gulp. Slamming the empty mug down on the coffee table, he stood abruptly and then froze as the front door opened and Buffy and Dawn entered the house.

Too bloody late.

"We’re back," Buffy called as the duo went into the living room where Willow, Tara and Giles immediately greeted all of them enthusiastically. Unlike, Spike, Buffy noted, who seemed to be frozen in place by the couch.

The vampire watched Dawn accept the gentle hugs and well wishes from her friends and felt a little of his tension ease. Apart from her obvious tiredness and the fact she was in some discomfort from her wound, she seemed her normal self. At least his foolishness hadn’t caused any permanent damage and for that he was thankful.

He glanced at Buffy and saw she had her back to him and was talking to Giles, explaining that Xander had dropped them off and gone straight back to the hospital. Deciding that it was a good time to make a quiet exit before the recriminations started, he moved stealthily towards the front door. Opening it silently, he paused on the threshold and allowed himself one last look back at the small group of friends and the woman he loved. "See you around, Slayer," he whispered, then quickly left the house and walked off, losing himself in the dark shadows of the night.

END CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

He opened the door and walked into the bar. Stopping just inside threshold, his nostrils flared in anticipation at what was there for the taking. He could smell it. Through the stench of alcohol and blood, he could definitely smell it.

Pain. Incredible pain. Of the heart. Love. Rejection. "Despair," he hissed in satisfaction.

Taking a couple of steps forward, his gaze swung from side to side in an attempt to home in on his quarry.

Suddenly, his head snapped to the right and his eyes widened. "There you are," he murmured, giving his prey the once over. A malevolent smile made its way to his lips. "Soon be out of your misery," he promised before heading over to the nearby table.

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

Buffy slammed the front door shut and angrily stalked over to her weapons chest. She lifted the lid, then pulled out stakes from various hiding places on her person and threw them in the box all the while muttering curses about Spike.

Job done, she let the lid drop back down ignoring the loud bang it made and walked into the kitchen still mumbling to herself.

Flicking the switch on the kettle, she got a mug out from under the sink and placed it next to the appliance. While waiting for the water to boil, she leaned back against the counter and folded her arms.

Scant seconds later, she was on the move again, her agitation clearly showing in the way she paced the kitchen floor.

"Dammit, Spike, what the hell's going on with you?" she suddenly exclaimed coming to a halt and staring up at the ceiling as though it could somehow provide the answers to all her confused questions about the vampire.

Ever since the night two weeks ago when they’d beaten Glory and he’d walked out of her house without even so much of a goodbye, Spike had kept his distance. Literally.

He never turned up at the Magic Shop or stood outside her house anymore. In fact, the only time she saw him now was when they patrolled. And she hated it.

His self-enforced withdrawal from her world had been swift and painfully effective and she hadn’t even realised it had happened until it was too late.

He’d seemed fine when Dawn and herself had gone to see him the day after he’d walked out. A little drunk maybe, but still pretty much his usual self. Just less swagger and sarcasm but she’d put that down to his inebriated state.

She’d insisted on checking his wounds and, satisfied that they were healing nicely, she’d listened to her sister reprimand the vampire for leaving without speaking to her first.

He’d looked suitably chastened and his excuse for walking out suddenly had been that he’d heard something outside the house and gone to investigate and he hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone. Feeble, but an excuse, and when he wasn’t any further forthcoming, they had accepted it with Dawn eliciting a promise from him never to do it again.

They’d left soon after and Buffy had stayed away for the next couple of days giving him a chance to heal completely and her a chance to sort out her jumbled emotions.

Although she'd tried, she could no longer deny her feelings for the vampire and despite her insecurities, she realised that if she could make a go of it with anyone then it'd be Spike. She knew he wouldn't ever leave her, heck, he'd proved that already. She'd seen his gentle, caring side with her sister and herself on the odd occasion she'd allow it and the fact that he was extremely easy on the eyes didn't hurt either.

The only problem she foresaw would be getting her friends to accept him, especially as she'd been such an ardent advocate of 'kick the Spike' in the past.

It hadn't taken her long to come up with a simple plan to solve that little obstacle however. It was easy. Get Spike to mix with her and the Scoobies for a little while so the gang would get used to him being around more and then when she was ready to admit how she felt, everyone would be happy. Well, maybe not Xander or Giles so much, but everyone else would be fine.

It was perfect. Really. Win, win situation all round.

True, it sounded a little selfish, even to her own mind, but after the track record she had with her love life, she had a right to err on the side of caution for once. Didn't she?

Obviously not if a certain vampire’s recent actions had been anything to go by. His growing detachment had become apparent when they'd started to make regular patrols.

Of course, the fact that she had seemingly become incapable of forming a coherent sentence around him for the first few days of their current arrangement may have been the reason for his withdrawal. Just turning up at his crypt, saying "patrol" and walking out again before he could see her blush was probably not the best way to convey "I want to spend some time with you" she decided ruefully.

That said, when she had recovered her speech again, she had been nice to him. More than nice. No punching, no name calling, inviting him in to her home and out to the Bronze the last week so surely that more than made up for her other less than articulate displays, didn't it?

Again, obviously not, because he'd politely declined every invite she made. Politely for heaven's sake! What was that all about?

She was beginning to be at a loss to know what to do. Even the lure of hot chocolate with marshmallows hadn’t worked when she’d invited him in a couple of nights ago.

The one time she’d asked him why he kept rejecting her invites, he’d merely shrugged his shoulders and said that some of Glory’s minions might still be around and he just wanted to keep an ear to the ground until he knew everything was safe for Dawn again.

Although Buffy had said that she appreciated his concern, she’d also told him that she didn’t think an extra hour here and there with her and the gang would make that much difference, but he’d remained adamant.

She tutted. "One minute he’s constantly by my side professing undying love and the next he’s treating me as if I’ve got garlic breath or something," she muttered grumpily as the kettle clicked off drawing her attention.

She poured herself a coffee then walked into the lounge and sat down on the couch, drawing her feet up underneath her as she continued to contemplate the temperamental blond.

Having expected him to jump at an opportunity to be with her in public, his rejection of her invites and therefore herself, had been a shock. So much so that she could no longer ignore the unwelcome conclusion that had been drumming at the back of her mind for the last couple of days; he didn’t love her anymore.

Just forming that thought caused a pain in her heart that, even though she'd only just accepted her feelings, still managed to surprise her.

Shaking her head, she sipped her drink and determinedly pushed the unwanted thought to the back of her mind almost immediately. She was being paranoid. On more than one occasion during patrol, she had caught him looking at her and had seen the flash of desire in his eyes before he hurriedly dropped his gaze.

He still loved her, she was sure, but something had changed and she couldn’t for the life of her think what.

‘Time for something drastic’, she told herself as she sat up and placed her mug on the coffee table in front of her. Drawing in a long calming breath to settle her nerves at the daunting task she’d decided upon, she nodded her head abruptly and stood up. "Gotta talk to my friends."

A couple of seconds later, she nodded her head again then sat back down. "To tired to dance tonight, I'll just catch them tomorrow".

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

Spike sat in the darkest corner of Willy’s bar and slowly exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. Picking up his shot glass, he brought it to his lips, tipped his head back and let the amber liquid burn a trail of fire down his throat. He slammed the glass back down and picked up the bottle for a refill.

He paused midway to the glass as an image of Buffy dancing closely with some faceless man flashed into his tortured mind and he brought the bottle to his lips instead.

Drinking deeply, he cursed himself for the hundredth time for not accepting when Buffy asked him to the Bronze, but he knew he didn’t belong there. He belonged here. Alone. Thirst momentarily sated, he put the bottle down and wiped his mouth with his cuff.

Eyes narrowed, he surveyed the bar as he took a long drag on his cigarette and pushed the smoke out through his nose. Unusually for this time of night, it was relatively quiet which meant there was less chance for him to work off some of his pent up aggravation and more chance for him to think about Buffy.

Buffy. The woman he'd love for the rest of his existence and who he knew would never love him back. The woman he'd made a promise to but, when it came to keeping it, he'd failed miserably.

"Guilt, thy name is Buffy," he murmured despondently. A picture of the younger Summers sister clutching her bloodied skirt to her stomach briefly flashed into his head and his mouth tightened grimly. "Or is it Dawn?"

Taking another long drink, he leaned back in his chair and rested the bottle on his knee continuing his perusal of the bar. There had to someone here he could pick a fight with and end all his poncey introspection.

Looking around, he saw the usual scum that frequented Willy’s each night although there were a few faces he hadn’t seen before.

A couple of tables away to his left sat three Jitsu demons. They were small, jaundiced looking creatures with large heads and large hands. Deceptively strong, they used telepathy to communicate and at that moment one was looking directly at him.

Spike stared back hoping that he might get a little action quicker than he thought. The creature turned back to his companions and obviously telegraphed something as, suddenly, all three looked over at the blond.

The vampire growled low in his throat and gave them a smirk as he straightened in his seat then watched half amused, half disappointed as the three turned away, quickly finished their drinks then got up and hurried out of the bar.

"Bugger," he mumbled, "Knew the growl was too much." He slouched back in his seat again only to look over to his left when the sound of crying caught his attention. At a table across the room, a young girl sat dabbing a tissue to her opaque eyes while a man, whose back was to Spike, was clearly trying to calm her.

Lovers tiff, the vampire decided and was about to turn away when he noticed the girls long brown hair. Almost immediately, Dawn’s face appeared before him once again which, as usual, was quickly followed by Buffy's and he closed his eyes, finally giving in to his brain that apparently didn’t think he’d suffered enough yet.

Finishing his cigarette, he dropped the butt on the floor and left it to smoulder as his mind wandered back over the past couple of weeks.

He'd been surprised when the Niblet and the Slayer had turned up at his crypt the day after his departure from their house. He had thought that since the danger had passed, he wouldn't be seeing Buffy again until another apocalypse threatened.

The fact that he'd drunk himself into oblivion the night before and had still been under the alcohol's influence didn't help the situation either. Otherwise, he would've been in a better position to object when Buffy stalked straight over to him and demanded that she check his bandaged wounds.

Instead, he'd meekly stood there and allowed her warm hands to roam over his body, both loving and hating it at the same time. Loving it because of who she was and hating it because he knew he didn't deserve her attention.

The Slayer's hands had barely left him before Dawn's harsh admonishment of his leaving without saying goodbye had penetrated his muzzy head.

That was more like he deserved.

He had offered a token excuse to appease the young woman but he knew that both she and her sister hadn't believed him for a second. Guiltily, he'd looked away from their disappointed gazes and at the teen's insistence, automatically promised that he wouldn't do it again.

And he wouldn't, because realising that he’d unwittingly let them down yet again, everything had suddenly become clear to him - every hurtful word that had ever come out of Buffy’s mouth about him was the truth.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but there was no denying it any longer. He was beneath her. He was beneath both of them. He had no right to be near them, no right to touch them, no right to love them…no right to be in their world. And, if he wasn't in their world, then he wouldn't be in a position to let them down again. Simple.

Except it wasn’t. Not when he knew that he couldn't let the Slayer patrol without back up. He'd dust himself if anything ever happened to her and so the only concession to his decision was that he'd still help her if she needed it. In any case, he'd reasoned with himself, technically, while patrolling she was in his world and that made it OK.

Spike brought the bottle to his mouth and drank deeply until nothing remained then put it back down on the table with a snort. It had been so straightforward in his head but in practice, it was proving harder than he ever could've imagined because, surprisingly, Buffy had asked for his help pretty much every night since then. Well, if you could call her turning up at his crypt, holding up a stake while saying, "patrol" before walking back out, asking.

He hadn't expected her to seek him out quite so often and there were moments when he let himself indulge in the fantasy that it was because she wanted to, but deep inside, he knew better.

Her lack of insults and fists to his face proved that. Hell, she didn’t even like him enough to issue the mildest of threats anymore.

No, the only reason she patrolled was that she was just as much worried as he was that some of Glory's minion's might still be out there willing to harm Dawn. Even though her time as the mystical Key was over, they couldn’t rule out possible revenge. They'd talked about it one night while out on patrol. Talked about a lot of things lately, he realised. Or rather, she talked and he listened. He knew his opinion wasn't worth anything anyway, so he rarely offered one now.

Sure, if she wanted to know what kind of demon she'd just killed or anything else to do with the ‘job’ he'd oblige, but apart from that he kept his mouth shut. Worked better that way. No conversation, no chance of getting drawn back in.

Naturally, being the Slayer, she wasn’t making it easy for him. Asking his opinion on various aspects of her life, sharing gossip about the Scoobies and, unbelievably, even going so far as to asking him in for hot chocolate when he walked her home some nights or onto the Bronze on others. Of course, he knew the latter was probably because of the Bit’s nagging, but still…

He suddenly laughed derisively at the irony of the situation. Not a couple of months before he'd desperately sought a crumb from the Slayer and had been shot down in flames. Now, there she was, dangling the whole damn cake slap bang in his face but every time he felt the urge to grab it with both hands, an image of Dawn's pained face would pop into his head and that was it.

Soddin’ bleedin’ typical.

The overwhelming guilt was becoming the conscience he'd lived so long without and as much as he rebelled against the feeling, he was becoming enslaved by it more and more each day. The only solace he found was at the bottom of a bottle. Many bottles in fact. The drink numbed the ache…for a while. And a while is exactly what he needed right now.

Standing up, he walked to the bar and put the empty bottle on the counter. "Same again, mate and one for luck," he ordered, digging around in his duster pocket and slapping a couple of bills on the drink stained top.

Willy looked over at him then shook his head as he bent down and pulled two bottles out from under the counter. He put them next to the empty bottle and took the cash whispering nervously, "Uh, try not to cause any trouble tonight please, Spike."

The vampire raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips contemplatively before gesturing vaguely behind him. "Well, the thing of it is, Willy," he finally replied, "Demon bar. Trouble tends to happen every now and then."

"Yeah, every now and then goes with the territory, but you've been in here every night for the last ten days and I'm running out of chairs," Willy pointed out worriedly as he handed him back his change and added, "And customers".

"Sometimes getting information takes a bit of persuasion," Spike shrugged unconcernedly as he grabbed one of the bottles and unscrewed the top. He took a long draft then leaned back casually, resting on his free elbow on the counter and looked unhappily about the room. "Anyway, I don't think you'll have to worry tonight, Willy old boy. Not much here for me to play with," he commented with loud sigh. "Unless I put her out of her misery," he added dryly, nodding towards the female who was still sobbing to her boyfriend.

"That’s Lana," Willy supplied helpfully. "She’s got boyfriend troubles."

"You don’t say," Spike drawled with a total lack of interest.

"Yeah, it’s a sad story really," the bartender continued as he leaned forward conspiratorially, obviously warming to the subject.

"Yeah, well, I don’t care," the blond interrupted abruptly, effectively shutting the gossip monger up. Without a backward glance, Spike picked up his two bottles and walked back over to his seat.

On his way, he passed the weeping girl’s table and got a better look at the man sitting there. ‘No wonder she’s crying,’ Spike thought to himself, his own stomach churning at the sight of the man's hideously gnarled face. 'Ugly git.'

As if hearing his thoughts, the man suddenly looked up and stared straight back at the vampire, his eyes narrowing. Spike's steps faltered as a chill crept up his spine at the almost assessing look on the other demon's face. Before he could react, the man looked back at the girl and spoke to her softly. Sniffling, she nodded and as Spike sat down at his table, he saw them both stand up and leave the bar.

Spike stared after them for a moment trying to quell the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach since the man's appraisal. Closing his eyes, he brought the opened bottle to his lips and took a drink, hoping that the warmth of the alcohol would help calm his sudden nervous state.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Slayer's pet vampire," came a rumbling voice from in front of him.

Spike tensed then opened his eyes and slowly lowered the half empty bottle to the table, still loosely grasping its neck as he silently took in the three Monu demons surrounding him.

Pure power houses, they were of average height, with mottled brown/green scaly skins that were reminiscent of a lizard. Four taloned fingers graced each hand which Spike knew could slice through the toughest of surfaces without so much as scuffing a claw.

He quickly weighed up the odds of the situation and they didn’t look good. There was one Monu on either side of him and the third was standing on the other side of the table. With the wall at his back, Spike knew that any way of escape was effectively blocked and he welcomed the rush of adrenaline that began to flow through his borrowed blood at the knowledge.

This was just what he needed. A little physical pain to take away the mental.

"Didn't think her leash extended this far," the Monu in front of him goaded again, bringing the vampire’s gaze to his. Smiling cruelly he added, "Does she realise you’ve gone walkies alone?"

"Oh, for God’s sake, can’t you pillocks ever come up with something a little more creative than comparing me to a dog?" Spike asked in a bored tone as he slowly moved his right leg until his foot rested against the trunk of the table.

"What did you call me?" the demon asked, outraged.

"A pillock, you burke," the blond repeated derisively.

Not knowing what it meant but absolutely sure he’d been insulted, the Monu let out an angry roar and lunged at Spike.

As soon as he moved, the vampire used his foot to push the table hard towards the attacking demon. The edge caught it straight in the stomach causing him to double over in pain. At the same time, Spike rose to his feet and smashed the bottle he was holding against the wall then rammed the jagged remains into the neck of the Monu on his right.

The glass sliced through its jugular and the demon let out an anguished howl when blood spurted through his fingers as he grabbed ineffectually at his neck before falling dead to the floor.

The third demon grabbed Spike from behind, but the vampire jerked his head backwards delivering a blow to the Monu’s face that stunned him enough to release the blond.

Once free, Spike immediately spun around to look at the two demons. Game face on, his eyes glowed yellow as he let out a hard laugh suspending his guilt for a short while as he allowed his demon to take charge.

"Muzzle's off, Godzilla," he snarled, running his tongue over his fangs with relish before adding on a low growl, "Playtime".

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

The sounds of a fight filtered through the air vent into the alley by the side of Willy's bar momentarily distracting the man from his task at hand. Looking back down at the woman laying on the ground in front of him his distorted features twisted into a smile as he knelt down by her side.

"There, there," he crooned, gently moving his hand across her face and lowering the lids to cover the now lifeless opaque eyes of his victim. "All better now, Lana. No more pain."

He slowly unbuttoned her blouse then laid his right hand over her chest. A few moments later, a blue glow began to emanate from his hand and he threw his head back, letting out a scream of agony. Staring wide eyed at the night sky, blue lines crawled up the column of his neck and spread across his face, each one adding a new crevice, bump or wrinkle to his already deformed features.

The light from his hand dimmed and his head fell limply forward as he sat back on his heels, panting slightly. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and smiled in satisfaction as he rose to his feet.

He bent down and picked Lana up as though she weighed nothing then walked over to a nearby dumpster and threw her body in as carelessly as day old rubbish. Brushing himself down, he straightened his clothing then looked around him with a pleased smile. He was going to like it here.

Whistling a haunting melody, he strolled out of the alley then headed into town already thinking about his next victim. A blond man in black that he'd wager was a vampire.

END CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER 5

Willow, Tara, Xander and Anya walked out of the Bronze where the witches bade goodnight to the other couple then set off to their dorm, hand in hand.  They had turned down Xander’s offer of a ride home saying they wanted to enjoy the cool night air and have a moonlight stroll.

As soon as they turned the corner, Willow turned to her girlfriend and gave her an apologetic smile.  “You don’t mind walking, do you, sweetie?” she asked a little hesitantly.

“No, it’s fine,” she replied with a soft smile of her own.

Willow looked relieved.  “Oh good, because was it just me or was Anya worse than usual tonight?  I mean, has that bump on her head just finely tuned her apparently natural born ability to ignore convention and take rudeness to a whole new level or was it just the cocktails talking?”

Tara knew Willow and Anya had never got on very well and tonight had been especially trying for the redhead as Anya had attempted to find out what the two witches got up to in their bedroom.

“I’m gonna go with the cocktails,” Tara answered, chuckling at her lover’s consternation.  "Although, if you want to be absolutely sure you could always give her another knock to the head and see if her affliction gets any worse."

Willow lost her annoyed look as the mental picture Tara's dry sense of humour had evoked caused a wide grin to spread across her face.  "Oh Goddess, that is so tempting," she commented on a wistful sigh.

The witches shared another laugh and walked on in silence just absorbing the calm that surrounded them.  It was rare that the Hellmouth allowed such a respite and the lovers wanted to enjoy every bit they could get.

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

Spike stumbled and leaned heavily against the alley wall for support, pressing his hand to his side to try and ease the pain.  The Monu demons had fought well and the vampire now sported three deep gashes down his left side where the leader had managed to get a clawed hand to him.

That was the last thing the demon had done though as, seconds later, anger drawn from the stinging lacerations had sent adrenaline surging through Spike's body like a tidal wave.  With a murderous roar, he had caught the leader roughly in a headlock then viciously snapped his neck and watched the body fall to the ground in grinning satisfaction.

He'd immediately turned to the remaining Monu who, obviously not liking his chances, had beat a hasty retreat.

Knowing he wasn't in any condition to fight should the Monu come back with some more of his friends, Spike had then grabbed his unopened bottle of booze and left the bar.

Twenty minutes and two thirds of a bottle later, the effects of the wound and the alcohol were starting to take their toll.  The gashes were already beginning to heal but he needed blood badly and the nearest source was in his crypt.  

Turning slightly so that his back now rested against the wall, the vampire had every intention of moving on, but his legs had other ideas as they gave out completely and he found himself in an undignified heap on the littered ground. 

"Bollocks," he muttered as he raised the bottle to his mouth and yanked out the stopper with his teeth then spat it out across the alleyway.   He greedily drank the remaining contents then dropped his arm, the bottle clanging loudly as it hit the concrete.

As the noise echoed around the alley, Spike let his head drop back against the wall and wished fervently for another bottle, knowing that what he'd already consumed wasn't going to be enough to blot out his mind tonight.

Closing his eyes, he released the bottle and raised his hand, running it tiredly over his face.  He needed to get to his crypt.  Now.

Wincing, he forced himself up and started walking again not sensing the man that followed silently behind, staying deep in the shadows.

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

The witches approached the end of the road they were walking along and Tara was surprised when, instead of turning right to head back to their dorm, Willow came to a stop and glanced left.

"I think we should go check up on Buffy.  Make sure she's OK," the redhead explained. "You know, being that she didn't make it to the Bronze tonight.  I mean anything could've happened on patrol."

"And…?" Tara prompted, noticing that her girlfriend couldn't quite look at her.

"A…And, what?" the redhead asked, trying to act nonchalant as she glanced at Tara then looked away.

"And you want to talk to her about Spike, don't you?" the fair-haired girl supplied intuitively.

"No!" Willow exclaimed, striving for vehemence.  At Tara's knowing grin, the witch sighed.  "Yeah, OK, maybe just a little."

"I thought we agreed that we wouldn't interfere, sweetie?" Tara reminded her quietly.  "We have no real idea what feelings, if any, Buffy has for Spike."

"I know, but it wouldn't be interfering.  Really," she insisted at Tara's doubtful look.  "I just think Buffy could use a couple of friends to talk to in case she wants to…talk…you know…about…someone.”  The redhead visibly brightened.  “Plus, Dawn's staying over at one of her friend's tonight and with Xander not around to make any stupid comments it'd be perfect."

"You've had this planned the whole evening, haven’t you?" Tara accused lightly.

“Actually, it was the last couple of days,” the redhead admitted sheepishly.

Tara couldn’t help but laugh and tightened her grip on her lovers hand.  “OK, let’s go and see if Buffy wants to talk about someone.”

Willow grinned and the couple walked off in the opposite direction of their dorm.

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

The man could almost taste the emotional pain that the vampire slowly walking in front of him was emitting.  It came off the blond in waves and each one that rolled over him just made his craving increase.

Lana’s essence would see him through for a couple of days but the vampire’s would sustain him for weeks, he just knew it.

Another wave hit his senses completely obliterating any plans he had to wait a while before making his move.  The blond was weak and vulnerable – just perfect.

Increasing his speed, he drew ever closer to Spike and then, suddenly, he froze.  Raising his head a little he tested the air and recoiled at what he felt. 

Warmth.  Friendship.  Love.  Human.

His face twisted into as much of a disgusted expression as the ravaged countenance would allow and immediately turned away. 

Now was not the time, but he could wait.

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

As he reached the end of the alley, Spike’s step faltered slightly when he heard a noise behind him.  Thinking that it had to be someone following him and, realising he was at a disadvantage, he decided his best option was to run.  His wound, however, protested vigorously at the mere thought of such an exertion and so he went for the only other option he could think of – confrontation.

Praying that it wasn’t the Monu back with some friends, he turned abruptly.  Hooking a thumb in the waistband of his jeans, he raised his chin defiantly and assumed a cocky stance, ignoring the pain that lanced through him at the action.

“Right then,” he began, then paused, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the alleyway.

It was empty.  Or so it appeared.

Automatically, he strained his heightened senses trying to catch the slightest hint of…anything…that could give him an idea of what had caused the noise.  He could feel something but it seemed to stay just on the outer edges of his awareness, like a cobra waiting to strike.

“Look, I know you’re there, so why don’t you just show yourself and we can get this little show on the road, eh?” he called out, his tone impassive.

Body tensed, his eyes darted from one side of the alley to the other trying to gauge from which of the many shadows zigzagging across the passageway an attack might come.

Inexplicably, a cold dread began to edge its way up his spine and he suddenly decided that retreat was probably the wisest way to go after all – wound or no wound.

“Well, since you’re too coward to face me, I’ll be on my merry way then,” he goaded, the demon in him unable to resist a last taunt.  "Things to see, people to eat."

Still keeping a lookout, the vampire took a step backwards and then another.  One more then he unexpectedly felt a hand grab his right forearm.  Pure instinct had him swing around and grasp the hand, twisting it sharply up behind the creature’s back.

Belatedly, he heard someone call his name and realised that he’d made a mistake.  A shriek of pain echoed around the street swiftly followed by blinding pain to his brain.  Crying out, he immediately released his hold and clutched at his head before sinking to his knees in agony.

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

The man watched the fallen vampire from his vantage point in the shadows wondering what had happened to make him crumble so suddenly.

His gaze fell upon the two human females who where looking down at the blond and his eyebrows rose as he become conscious of the power that surged between them. 

"Witches," he breathed unhappily.  They had evidently incapacitated the vampire and would no doubt kill him now.  'What a waste,' he thought to himself in dismay.  He'd had such high hopes for the creature.  With a soft sigh, he turned and silently walked away, mentally bemoaning his luck at not having made his move a few minutes earlier.

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

Willow and Tara stared down at the stricken vampire sympathetically.  They knew there was nothing they could do to help him when the chip kicked in so they waited.  When the worst of the pain seemed to have passed, Willow crouched down beside the blond and smiled gently.

Spike immediately raised his head and stared at her, trying to get his eyes to focus once more.

"You OK now?" she asked.

"It's me that should be asking that question, Red," he replied gruffly when the pain in his head had subsided to a dull enough throb that allowed him to speak.  "Didn't realise it was you.  Sorry."

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him brightly as she gingerly moved her arm.  "It's just a little numb, but once the blood starts circulating again it'll be good as new."

At the word 'blood', Spike's eyes instantly dropped down to her neck and he involuntarily licked his lips.  His need for food was rapidly overwhelming him and he saw the ticking of her pulse increase as she realised what he was staring at and pulled back slightly.  Though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't help but feel a little pleased he could still provoke a small amount of fear within people, even in his neutered state.

Mouth watering, he could almost taste the warm, coppery goodness going down and used every ounce of his willpower to force back his inner demon.   Tearing his gaze away from her neck, he stood jerkily then distanced himself slightly, looking everywhere but at the witches directly.

"Gotta go," he mumbled, turning away.

"But Spike, you're hurt," came Tara's concerned voice having caught a glimpse of his injury.

"It's nothing, just a scratch," he dismissed as he began walking away.  "Be right as rain as soon I as reach my crypt and get some blood in me."

He stumbled a little and the two witches shared a concerned glance before rushing forward and standing either side of vampire, each grabbing an arm to steady him.

Spike tensed readying himself to shake them off, but Tara stopped him cold when she softly said, "Let us help you, Spike.  We know you’ll heal well enough on your own but a little bit of antiseptic and gauze won’t hurt.  It's what we’d do for any friend of ours if they were hurt."

Stunned at her words, he gazed into her gentle eyes searching out the truth.  "Friend?" he repeated softly.

"Well, yeah.  After the way you've helped Buffy, Dawn, me and the rest of the gang recently, I think I can safely say that we are friends, aren't we?"

The vampire didn't know what to say.  Although the witches had visited him recently, he'd assumed that it was merely to check up on the wounds he'd sustained during the battle with Glory.  The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind that they were coming to see him because they actually wanted to. 

Could it be true?  Did she consider him, an evil vampire, as her friend? 

With a jolt, he saw the sincerity shining back from the azure depths and realised that she did mean it.   Incredulously, he turned to Willow and saw the same honesty reflected in her own gaze. 

Swallowing hard, he fought back the emotion that suddenly threatened to choke him.  'Too much drink and not enough blood', he told himself, trying to justify what he considered was a pathetic reaction to their offer of acceptance.  Because that's what it was, a little bit of acceptance in the world he was desperately trying to avoid. 

And despite his promise to himself, he grabbed the opportunity with both hands.  His body relaxed and he finally nodded his acquiescence - to letting them help him and to silently admitting that he was their friend too.

The trio walked to Spike's crypt as quickly as the vampire could manage.  Once inside, they soon had him sitting on the top of a sarcophagus in the corner.

While Tara brought over the meagre first aid supplies, Spike had scrounged from various places, Willow grabbed a couple of bags of blood from his fridge and watched as he devoured them within seconds. 

"More?" she asked.

Spike felt the pig's blood flow through his body, slowly restoring his strength.  "No," he replied, then paused and added hesitantly, "thanks."

Willow smiled in response then helped him out of his duster and T-shirt.  "Seems like we've been here before," she commented wryly.

Spike smiled then looked down in concern when both women suddenly gasped as the severity of the wound was revealed to their eyes. 

“Oh Goddess,” Tara breathed, staring at the jagged gashes that marred his pale skin as she began to clean them.  “It looks bad.  What happened?”

“Had a little tussle with a Monu demon at Willy's place,” he told them with a careless shrug.  “Could’ve been worse, their claws pretty much go through anything.  If I hadn’t dodged in time, he would’ve sliced me in two.  Won’t be slicing anything from now on though.  Snapped his neck good and proper.” 

“Good.  I wouldn’t have fancied meeting him on a dark night,” said Willow reaching out and giving the longest tear a gentle prod to see if it was still weeping.

“Ow!  I said it wasn’t that bad, not that it didn’t bloody hurt!” he exclaimed, jerking away from her hand.

“Sorry,” the redhead offered contritely, dabbing at where a little blood escaped from the wound.

“Yeah, well, don’t give up the day job, Red,” he grumbled with a scowl.  “Florence bleedin’ Nightingale, you ain’t and I should know, I met her once.”

“You met Florence Nightingale?” Willow queried in disbelief.

“Course.”  At the redhead’s sceptical look, Spike added, “Look, where there’s nurses, there’s blood, right?  And where there’s blood…”

“Ugh, please don’t say anything more,” she pleaded in disgust.  “Next you’ll be telling me you met Jack the Ripper or something.”

“Actually, I did,” he informed her seriously as she stared at him mouth agape.  “Not my cup of tea.  All that slicing and dicing; total waste of perfectly good blood.  Didn’t do to have him around spoiling the hunt, so…” Spike raised his hand and made a slashing motion across his throat.

Both Wicca’s had stopped their ministrations and were looking at him aghast. 

“You mean, you’re the reason that the killings stopped and…and why the Ripper was never caught?” Willow asked in amazement.

Spike couldn’t hold back the chuckle any longer.  “No pet, but seeing the look on both your faces makes me really wish I was.  Even the Bit didn't fall for that one.”

The women tutted and muttered about the shortcomings of men to each other as they resumed their task.

The vampire chuckled again then fell silent as he thought back to the time when he had regaled Dawn with tales from his past.  It had been one of the few pleasant times he could remember that hadn't involved the death of someone at the end of it.  He missed the closeness.  And her.

The guilt he'd been successfully keeping at bay since his fight returned to settle heavily on his shoulders once more.  Fearing he was dangerously close to brooding, Spike voiced a question that he knew would ultimately bring the conversation around to a subject that had been bothering him since he’d declined Buffy’s invite earlier that evening.  "So, did you and the rest of the gang enjoy yourselves at the Bronze tonight?"  

The witches glanced at each other, knowing full well that the 'rest of the gang' he spoke about was Buffy.

"Yeah, it was the usual," Willow replied casually.  "You know, drinking, dancing, more drinking, more dancing."

"Dancing, eh?" Spike snorted, feeling a pang of jealousy around his unbeating heart as he once again conjured up the image of Buffy and a faceless man bumping and grinding against each other to a heavy beat.  "The Slayer enjoy herself, did she?”

‘No doubt picked herself out some pathetic twat to toy with for a couple of hours before walking away and leaving the poor git so hard he wouldn’t be able to walk straight for days,’ he added bitterly to himself.

“Buffy didn’t turn up,” Tara replied nonchalantly as she began to wrap a tatty bandage around his middle. 

"She didn't go?" he questioned with a frown.  She'd seemed so keen when she'd asked him along that he was surprised but, if he were honest, not a little relieved that his imaginings hadn't come to fruition.

“No.  We were on our way to her house to see if she was OK, when we saw you,” Willow supplied as she taped up the end of the bandage and gave it a gentle tap as if to say, 'You're done'.  "I'm assuming that since you haven't mentioned anything, she didn’t get hurt on patrol?”

“No, she was fine when I last saw her,” he replied, not admitting to the fact that he’d followed her to her door for fear that they’d think he’d started stalking her again. 

Running his hand over the bandage, he gave them a smile of gratitude then pushed himself off the sarcophagus and landed lightly on the floor.  Reaching for his ruined t-shirt, he roughly pulled it on and added jokingly, “Course, I could be lying and have her tied up downstairs, half drained, just waiting for you two to go so I can finish her off…”

His words trailed off when he saw them glance worriedly over at the hole in the middle of the crypt and felt his good humour give way to annoyance.  “Oh for God’s sake, she’s not really there, OK?” he snapped irately.

“Oh!  I know,” Willow hurriedly assured the vampire as she felt a telltale flush of warmth on her cheeks.  “You mentioned the hole and I kinda just, automatically looked over at it.”

“Me too,” Tara concurred, her face also carrying a slight reddish hue.

Spike stared at them for a moment and couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that they’d believed him.  They could deny it, but from their faces he knew that for one split second, they were actually worried that he really did have Buffy tied up downstairs.  And because of that split second, he also now knew that they’d never, ever trust him completely.  And they knew it too.

There was an uncomfortable silence then Spike gestured over to his fridge.  “I would offer you a drink but all I have is blood,” he said coolly.

“No, that’s fine, we’d better be going anyway,” Willow decided, nodding towards the door.

Spike nodded and headed over to the door then was surprised when Tara invited hopefully, “If…if you want to join us at the Bronze one night, you’re more than welcome, you know.”

Fingers grasping the door handle, the vampire kept his back to them and bowed his head as he quietly replied, “Thanks pet, but I don’t think so.  I’m a demon, remember?  I belong in that world, not yours.”

“But that’s nonsense,” she replied, looking to Willow for support.  

“Absolutely,” the redhead concurred.

Spike let out a derisive chuckle and raised his head to stare at the door.  “Two weeks ago, I would’ve agreed with you but after I let Doc beat me, that’s when I realised.”

“Realised what?” Tara prodded when he fell silent.

The vampire let out a heavy sigh.  “Realised that everything you Scoobies had ever said about me…to me, was true…”

“What?!” Willow exclaimed in surprise, effectively cutting him off.  Then the slight tremor she’d heard in his voice registered and she moved closer determined to contest his words and offer consolation.  “Spike, I’m sorry.  I wish I could take back what I’ve said over the years but I can’t.  All I can say is that I know you’re not the same vampire you were back then.  You’ve changed.  For the better.  And…and you didn't let Doc beat you.  Dawnie was there.  She told us everything.  You did what you could…”

“Wasn’t good enough though, was it?” he interrupted bitterly.  “Just like me.”

“But, Spike…” the witch tried again, not sure how to get through to him.

“No, Red.  As much as I wish there was, there’s nothing you can say that will change what happened that day,” he insisted.  “I failed.”

The last was said so quietly, Willow and Tara had trouble hearing it but, when the words finally registered, the redhead immediately refuted them.  “That’s not true,” she told him forcefully, horrified that he thought like that.

“No?” he challenged, finally raising his head to look at her, the look of abject misery on his face shocking the witch.  “I think there’s a four inch slit in Dawn’s stomach that proves you wrong!”

“Spike,” Willow tried to mollify as she reached out and touched his arm in an effort to ease his self-inflicted suffering.

The vampire savagely jerked away then yanked the door open and stepped back.  "Thanks for cleaning me up tonight, Red," he said tautly, then turned to Tara and nodded.  "Glinda.  Best not hold you up any longer."

The women hesitated but the vampire’s face told them that he had nothing more to say on the subject.  Knowing from Buffy’s experience’s with him that he could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted, they bade him goodnight then walked out of the crypt.

Spike stood with the door open for a few moments, listening to their footsteps fade away.  When they were almost out of hearing range, he grabbed his duster, put it on then made his way out into the night after them.

Keeping a lengthy distance between them, he followed them to Buffy’s house where, judging by her rumpled appearance, they had awoken a heavily sleeping Slayer.  The witches spoke to her briefly on the doorstep before heading back to their dorm. 

Once he knew they were safely inside, he walked into town.   Using his game face, he acquired some cigarettes and alcohol from a nearby store then headed back to his crypt.  It took a good three bottles before oblivion finally claimed him.

END CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Buffy awoke late and, recalling the brief conversation she’d had with Willow and Tara the night before, she spent the day cleaning the house for when the gang came over that night. They had a suggested a pizza and movie evening and she’d agreed thinking that it’d give her the opportunity to tell the gang about her feelings for Spike.

The day passed quickly and soon the gang were seated in her lounge tucking into three large pizza’s.

Buffy, Dawn, Willow, Tara and Anya stared in fascination as Xander's face turned from a bright red to a deathly pale and back to red in the matter of seconds.

"Man, that chilli was hot!" the brunet exclaimed as he grabbed a glass of water and downed its contents in two gulps. "I’ve gotta have another one of those!" he said, grabbing another slice of the hot pizza.

"Chilli’s don’t affect sexual performance, do they?" Anya asked the others worriedly as she watched her fiancé pop another fiery pepper into his mouth. "I can’t have Xander broken, it’s a very important night, tonight."

"Really? Why?" asked Dawn chewing on a piece of Hawaiian.

Anya looked over at Xander and he smiled back tenderly, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

"Xander and I are engaged!" she told them all in a delighted rush. When the other simple stared back at her in stunned disbelief, she held up her bejewelled hand and added, "You can congratulate us now."

Almost immediately Dawn gave a little shriek then ran over and hugged both Xander and Anya excitedly, asking if she could be a bridesmaid.

Buffy, Willow and Tara gave their congratulations in a more subdued but no less enthusiastic way. At their request, Xander told them when and how he proposed and the couple were lightly chastised for keeping it quiet for so long. Anya then told the gang that they would be setting the wedding date for a few months time and the next hour was spent finishing off the pizza and trying to dissuade the ex-demon from choosing lime green as the colour for the bridesmaids dresses.

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

Spike paced restlessly around his crypt like a caged animal waiting for the waning sun to set. Normally when he wanted to venture out during the day, he used the sewers but they didn’t run in the direction he wanted to go tonight and so he was stuck.

When he'd awoken an hour before, three things had hit him at once. A blinding headache from his hangover, pain from his side and the embarrassing fact that he'd blabbed his misery out to the witches the night before.

How could he have just told them everything like that? He must have drunk more than he realised. That or they'd put a spell on him so that he’d act like a brooding nit.

He paused for a moment considering the notion then shook his head dismissively as he moved again. Deep down, he knew he'd made the admission because he wanted to. He could blame it on the drink and the pain and even a spell, and more than likely he would when it was inevitably brought up again. But in reality, the thing that had brought his words forth was the simple fact that they’d said they were his friends.

Could he be anymore pathetic?

And now, to add to his mortification, all the bloody Scoobies were going to know about it for he was under no illusion that the lovers wouldn’t keep his little revelation to themselves.

Trouble was, the Bit would probably be upset and he felt a pang of regret for causing her more pain. The witches had said they were sorry and for all he’d resisted, he couldn’t help but believe them. He suspected that the demon bird wouldn’t care less while the whelp would be rubbing his hands together in glee that the Big Bad had finally seen the light…in a manner of speaking.

And as for Buffy…well, he imagined that for all her tolerance of him lately, she would be agreeing with the boy. She might a token denial for the Bit’s sake, but he knew he’d never be more to her than a monster. He also knew that he couldn’t face her tonight, either.

The last dying embers of the day faded away and he grabbed his duster, hurrying to the crypt door. Flinging it open, he stepped out into the darkening evening and looked around cautiously. Knowing he was alone, he set off across the cemetery determined to be safely ensconced in a discreet bar he knew over the side of town long before Buffy even thought about leaving her house that night.

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

The H’Numkrig demon flopped down onto a stool by the bar and ordered a beer. Willy handed him a bottle and watched as he took a swig then stared morosely at his drink.

"Problems, Saul?" Willy asked, flinging a bar towel over his shoulder and staring at his friend sympathetically.

"The usual," Saul replied with a shrug. "Demon meets human. Demon loves human. Human hates demon."

"Yeah, I hear that a lot around here lately," the bartender replied dryly. "Lana was in here yesterday. Said almost the same as you. Must have something to do with this place being on a Hellmouth or something."

Saul nodded then took another drink before saying, "I just don’t get it, you know? I mean I’m a good looking guy, right? Snappy dresser?"

Willy stared at his friend's brown, mottled skin and orange eyes in contemplation. Short horns sprouted from each side of his bald head just above his pointed ears and his attire consisted of a bright yellow shirt and green combats. "Yeah, yeah, you look great," Willy finally assured him with a smile.

"Yeah," Saul asserted half-heartedly as he drained his bottle and requested another. Willy handed one over then left him alone to serve someone else.

Taking his beer, Saul got off the stool and sat down at one of the tables. Lost in thought about his unrequited love, it took him a couple of moments to realise that someone had sat down opposite him. Coming out of his daze, he looked up to see a hideous looking man staring back at him.

"Good evening," the man said, softly.

"Who are you?" Saul asked with a puzzled frown.

"My name is, Fen," the stranger replied, his head tilting to the side consideringly. "You seemed a little…sad and I thought you might like to talk."

Saul’s immediate reaction was to tell him to get lost but the words wouldn’t come out and instead he found himself nodding.

Fen grinned in approval knowing he’d already found his next victim.

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

Spike got halfway across the graveyard then stopped. There was no way he couldn't be there waiting for Buffy if she turned up. Even if he had to sit through a humiliating lecture reaffirming all his faults, it was still better than knowingly leaving her to patrol alone.

Cursing the day he ever came back to Sunnydale, he turned around and headed slowly back to his crypt.

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

"Shall I put the movie on now?" asked Dawn, holding up a copy of Con Air.

There was a chorus of approval from the gang but Buffy glanced at her watch and let out a sigh. "Sorry guys, but I’ve got to go on patrol," she reminded them, deciding not to spoil the evening for the happy couple by mentioning Spike.

Xander, however, had other ideas.

"Captain Peroxide helping you out tonight, as usual?" the brunet queried mildly.

"If I ask him too, yeah," Buffy replied stiffly.

Xander nodded then sighed heavily. "And I’m guessing you will, right?"

"Xander," Willow cautioned in a warning tone.

"No Will, that’s OK," Buffy interjected quietly. She turned back to the brunet and calmly replied, "Yes, Xander, I will ask Spike to help me. He’s…"

"You like him, don’t you?" he suddenly demanded, interrupting her.

Buffy stared at him in surprise not knowing what to say. She hadn’t expected Xander to be so direct. Looking around the room, she found all eyes on her. Xander seemed as shocked as she that he’d voiced the question in the first place, her sister looked hopeful, the witches expectant and Anya appeared mildly curious.

"You know, a couple of months ago, the standard Buffy reply to that question would’ve been a look of revulsion, swiftly followed by a very prolonged, ‘Ewwww’ and a few choice phrases that included the words, ‘evil’, ‘soulless’ and ‘monster’," Xander commented, drawing Buffy’s eyes back to him.

Expecting to see him looking back at her with anger and disappointment, Xander surprised her again by sporting a small smile instead. "But like I said, that was a couple of months ago, right?" he reiterated slowly.

"I guess it was," she admitted with a tentative smile of her own.

"I knew it!" Willow suddenly exclaimed in triumph. "I knew you liked him."

"Me too!" Dawn exclaimed with a grin.

"You did?" Buffy asked, her smile widening as she felt a rush of relief go through her. Could it be that she'd underestimated her friends?

"Well, duh!" her sister replied, rolling her eyes. "The way you ran down those tower steps to go find him was kind of a give away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast. Not even when you tried to catch me after you walked in on me in your bedroom borrowing your favourite blue sweater."

Buffy grinned at the memory then looked around at her friends. "So I take it you all don’t mind that I have…feelings…for Spike?" the Slayer asked, still half expecting an argument.

Dawn snorted and folded her arms. "I don't, but then again I told you he was hot ages ago," she reminded her sister impatiently. "About time you finally listened to me."

"Yeah, well, hot or not; ages ago Spike was more evil than he is now," Buffy responded dryly.

"That he was," Xander agreed with a grimace. "And, just for the record, I’m not saying that I don’t mind that you’ve got another yen for the undead," he added. "I still think it’s a whole world of wrong. In fact, when Willow brought the possibility to my attention the other week, I took a long trip to denial land and when I eventually got back and unpacked, I sat down and had a good long think about all the reasons why I should stake him once and for all. And there were quite a few, let me tell you," he asserted with a wry chuckle.

"Xander…" the redhead began reproachfully seeing how Buffy's face had dropped, but the brunet held up his hand to let her know he hadn’t quite finished.

Leaning forward in his seat, he clasped his hands together and rested his arms on his legs. Letting out a heavy sigh, he continued quietly, "You know, even though I don't have any fancy powers, I do still have my eyes and I use them well. I probably see more than any of you realise and when I finally got past the fact that Spike's a vampire, I started to remember other things he'd done. The beating he took for Dawn, how he helped when we had to run from Glory, how he was willing to go back to Glory's apartment even though that's where he'd been horribly tortured and that's when I realised something."

He paused and looked around at the rest of the gang, noticing that they all seemed to be waiting for him to say something bad. "He's changed," he said simply. "He's gone against everything he is and, even though I don’t particularly like him, I can't help but have a just little piece of respect for the guy." He looked at Buffy then and smiled. "He's earned it."

Buffy blinked back tears and gave her friend a tremulous smile. "Thanks, Xan. It means a lot to me that I don't have to fight you on this."

"Yeah, well, you still might have to, every now and then," he admitted with a rueful grin. "Not sure I can handle seeing anything undead hands on for a while yet."

The Slayer gave a derisive snort. "Well, considering how Spike's been acting lately, I don't think you have to worry about that anytime soon."

"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.

Buffy stood up and faced her friends. "Oh come on, has anyone here seen him around lately?"

"Not me," Xander confirmed with a shake of his head.

"I haven't seen him since we went to his crypt," Dawn offered unhappily.

"He hasn't been to the shop either," Anya informed them brightly. "I haven't had anything go missing from my stock for the last two weeks."

Everyone turned to the witches who looked at each other uncomfortably before Willow quietly admitted, "We have been to check up on him a couple of times."

"You have? He never said," the Slayer commented, taken aback. She sighed and began to pace the room in agitation almost talking to herself. "Then again, I don't know why I'm so surprised, I mean when we patrol the only time he opens his mouth is to tell me what I've just killed. Then, every time I ask him if he wants to come in for a hot drink, he refuses and goes to Willy's on the pretext of getting information."

She stopped in the middle of the room and stared at her friends in confused sadness. "It's like he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"Oh, it's not just you," Willow exclaimed then looked horrified at how her attempt at comfort had sounded. "I mean…it's not you at all…it's him. He's decided that as he's a demon, he should stay in the demon world."

"Been telling Fangboy that for years," Xander interjected dryly. All the women turned annoyed glares on him and he held up his hands submissively. "Hey, just saying that Mr. Chip has a point."

Ignoring him, Buffy turned back to Willow. "After all these years, why would he think that now?" she asked, clearly baffled.

The two witches looked at each other again and then they both began to explain to the gang what had happened the previous night.

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

Spike settled himself in his chair and switched on the television. It was nearing the time that Buffy usually arrived and he wanted to appear as nonchalant as possible. He'd decided that he'd go with being too drunk to remember anything and flat out denial should she try and force the issue.

He might not have much pride left, but he was damn well determined to hold onto what remained.

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

Buffy listened to Willow and Tara in shock. How could she have possibly missed the fact that Spike's current actions were due to guilt over what had happened to Dawn? The crucial moment had taken place in front of very eyes and she'd totally discarded it like day old rubbish. Closing her eyes in disbelief, she realised that she'd once again taken it for granted that, as a vampire, Spike didn't possess feelings. When the hell was she ever going to learn?

Hearing a sniffling sound, Buffy opened her eyes and looked over at her sister. Seeing the distress on the younger girl's tearful face, she went over to offer comfort in the best way she knew how, a big sisterly hug.

As the witches continued talking, telling them how Spike believed every awful word they'd ever said about him, Buffy realised that Dawn's plight had just been the catalyst for all the other damaging things that had occurred over the years. Looking at her two oldest friends' faces, she saw the same awful guilt she knew must be marring her own features.

They, too, realised that they were in some way responsible for the vampires withdrawal, although she was aware that she shouldered the majority of the blame. She had said the most despicable things to him in the past and had enjoyed his hurt expressions, regarding them as some kind of trophy. The more devastated he looked, the bigger the prize.

By the time Willow and Tara had finished their account however, Buffy's feelings of guilt began to change to ones of anger. Ok, so she'd said things in the past but so had he and hadn't she been trying hard to be nice ever since she realised her feelings? Fat lot of good it did her. And who the hell was he to decide he wasn't good enough for her when she'd finally come to the conclusion that he was? Yeah, she could understand him being upset over Dawn, but to take himself out of her world because of it?

Mouth tightening grimly, she shook her head in annoyance. "Stupid, over dramatic, pain in the ass," she muttered irately.

"Where are you going?" Dawn asked as Buffy abruptly released her then stood and walked over to the staircase.

"Patrol," the Slayer replied curtly. "And to see if I can’t talk some sense into a stupid vampire."

"I don’t think he’ll listen," Willow warned, standing up and hurrying after her friend. She'd seen the play of emotions on Buffy's face and knew the current look meant trouble. "He pretty much chucked Tara and I out of his crypt last night when we tried."

Buffy stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to the redhead. "I’ll have to be a bit more persuasive then, won’t I?" she told her meaningfully. Grabbing her coat off the banister, she put it on then went over to the weapons chest.

"But just think about it a minute, Buffy" Willow entreated, following the Slayer across the room. "You've seen Spike pretty much every night for the last two weeks and you said yourself that he's been holding back. If you go there tonight all punchy and accusing, you might make him withdraw even further."

The Slayer paused as she bent down to retrieve two stakes from the wooden box she'd just opened. Willow had a point and as much as she wanted to try and sort things out with the vampire, she realised that if she rushed in fists first, she could make matters worse. Straightening up, she closed the chest and turned to her friend with a sigh.

"You're right, Will," she conceded grudgingly then raised her arms in a helpless gesture as she added, "But I don't know what else to do."

The redhead looked relieved and gave the Slayer a huge grin. "Don't worry, I have a plan."

Xander groaned loudly. "Your plans are about as good as your magic."

"I resent that," Willow said throwing him a hurt expression. "I haven't messed things up in months."

"Well, you're about due then," he retorted, then looked at Buffy. "I say go with the punching and accusing."

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed in exasperation.

"Hey, just my opinion," he said, innocently.

Willow turned back to the silent Slayer and looked at her expectantly. "Well? What do you say?"

Buffy eyed her dubiously. "What kind of plan?"

"One that involves secrecy and deception," the witch replied, her eyes narrowing slyly before widening again as she added eagerly, "Oh!…And the need to find you the perfect outfit."

"New clothes?" the Slayer replied, seemingly pondering the suggestion before letting a small smile cross her lips. "Sounds like my kind of plan."

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

Fen watched in delight as Saul plunged the knife deep into his own heart and fell to the cemetery's ground in agony. Luring Saul to the graveyard had been too easy and although he gained sustenance from the lesser demons such as the H'Numkrig, it wasn't anything that lasted very long.

A pained gurgle brought Fen out of his reverie to see black inky blood escaping from the mortal wound and saturating Saul's yellow shirt.

Fen moved swiftly over to him and he placed his hand on the dying demon's chest, just below the knife. "Don't want to waste any, do we?" he said brightly. The blue glow started almost immediately and the blood stopped spreading. Concentrating harder, his hand acted like a sponge soaking up water and he watched in satisfaction the fluid began receding back on itself and up into his palm, feeding him.

Saul let out an agonised cry as he felt his life-force slip away. His eyes dimmed and his last thought was that his killer suddenly appeared to be even more uglier than before.

END CHAPTER 6