TITLE: Heaven Can Wait
DISCLAIMER: Surprisingly enough, I don't own any of this. ME and Joss do. But I can pretend.
THE STORY: Picks up where "As You Were" left off. I felt like making up my own little story on why Riley happened to turn up in Sunnydale just as Buffy's life had reached its lowest point. I also felt like sorting out Buffy and Spike to my own satisfaction. It turned into a slightly longer story than I expected... Anyway, for the purposes of my fic, the events of Normal Again do take place at some point in my story, but the rest of it is AU.
FEEDBACK: Please. In fact, I'd love some serious reviews on what you think works and what doesn't in my writing.

So let's go ...


CHAPTER ONE - BRIEF ENCOUNTER

"I'm sorry ... William."

Buffy exited into sunlight, hesitating for a moment as the bright rays struck her full in the face, making her blink.

She knew she’d done the right thing. Sex with Spike was wrong, on every level. Aside from the whole feeling fantastic thing. It was wrong. She had to make it stop.

So why did she feel so close to tears? She should be feeling relieved. Proud of herself for taking control of her life. Making a good decision, based on logic, common sense, all those sensible things that Giles had told her about.

"I have to be strong about this."

For some reason, she felt disappointed. Guilty, even. The look on Spike’s face just now when she had told him that sleeping with him was killing her. It was as though she had shoved a stake through his heart.

"I can't love you. I'm just ... being weak, and selfish ... and it's killing me."

She took a deep breath and made her way through the cemetery, lifting her face to feel the warmth of the sun. Symbolic much? Leaving the crypt of the vampire, moving into the sunlight …. out of the darkness and into the light.

Except she knew it wasn’t symbolic. It was deliberate. And cowardly. She had chosen to tell Spike at this time of day, because she didn’t want him to be able to follow her. To come after her and try to convince her she was making a mistake.

"Not that he would be able to," Buffy mumbled under her breath. "Cause it’s not a mistake. It’s a Good Thing."

Seeing Riley again had made her realise just how off the rails things - her life - had gone. He had made her remember what life was supposed to be like, when she was just a college student, with her mother at home, and a nice, normal boyfriend who treated her like a princess. Buffy ignored the little voice in her head that was trying to point out that the college girl had also been the Slayer, and that the nice normal boyfriend worked for a secret government army that hunted demons. Those were unimportant, minor details.

While she was ignoring that little voice, Buffy decided that she was also going to refuse to let herself think about last night, when she had gone to Spike, sought him out, knowing he was the one person that could make her feel better after finding out about Riley’s marriage.

"I'm using you."

She was not going to think about asking him, begging him to tell her that he loved her. Not going to think about the emotion in his voice as he did as she asked. Not going to think about the way his eyes had searched hers for some spark of reciprocal feeling …

And definitely not going to think about the way his hands felt on her skin, his lips on her body.

Nope, not going to think about that.

****

It was impossible to stop thinking about her.

Spike raised the bottle to his lips, then scowled when nothing came out. With a growl, he lobbed the bottle across the room, watching it smash against the far wall, the shards joining the rubbish heap left by the blast. How could he have finished an entire bottle of whiskey and not even remember it? And worse, not even feel drunk? He shook his head violently, hoping to feel that wave of dizziness that meant ‘drunk’. Nothing. He stood and jumped around. No dizziness. No swaying. Nothing.

"Bloody hell." And no more whiskey. So now what? How the hell was he supposed to rid himself of images of Buffy, here, in his arms, just last night? His to touch, to caress, to love.

He closed his eyes, deliberately conjuring up the picture of her, naked, in his bed, glowing with passion, mindless with need. Then he brought to mind the Buffy that had been here this morning. Still beautiful. Not naked, unfortunately. And dumping him. Could you call it dumping when there had never even been a relationship? Just amazing sex. And a hell of a lot of pain.

Spike chuckled cynically. "Sounds like a bloody relationship to me," he told himself.

So now what? No whiskey. No Buffy. No point in staying in Sunnydale any longer.

Except for one thing.

"She called me William," he whispered. The sound of his voice echoed softly around his crypt. He sighed and sank back down to his seat.

Why did she do that? Why, if she was breaking up with me because I’m a vampire, did she call me by my human name? What was all that about?

He settled back further into the armchair, legs stretched out in front, and closed his eyes. Think, Spike. Why would she do that?

All right. How about this for a theory? Was she trying to break it gentle? Throw him a crumb by calling him by his human name, for the first time ever? But why would she bother? She was breaking up with him, so why bother trying to make him feel good? It didn’t make sense.

Scratch that, then. What else could it be?

Perhaps she was trying to make herself feel better. Trying to tell herself that she hadn’t been screwing a vampire, that it was a human standing in front of her, a human called William.

Again. Why would she do that? If she was going to try to convince herself that he was human, surely she would have done so while they were sleeping together. Not while she was telling him that it could never work out. Again, not making sense.

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t think of anything else, except ….

Except that, somehow, perhaps subconsciously, she was trying to tell him that she did see something else in him. Maybe she knew that, deep down, there was a "William" inside him somewhere, something or someone that she could admit to loving. He just needed to prove this to her ...

Spike considered this for a few minutes. Maybe he was fooling himself. Most likely, in fact. But if there was a chance ….

"What do you have to lose, mate?" he told himself. After all, all the other ponces in her life had left her. Maybe, just this once, she would want one that could prove he wasn’t just going to give up on her.

He had had this debate with himself many, many times. If it was true that being with him was bad for her, then he knew that he would have to leave her. But he just didn’t believe it was true. Something kept telling him that he could be right for her. He simply had to make her acknowledge it.

It wasn’t as though he had been all that nice to her, he admitted. She knew how to rub him up the wrong way, that’s for sure, and he retaliated in kind. He cringed a bit to think of some of the things he had said to her, or in front of her. He wasn’t good at bottling his emotions up, and sometimes he would snap. Not exactly gentlemanly, he agreed.

He closed his eyes again. It was worth thinking about. He had a few hours to kill before sundown anyway.

****

"I’ll kill her!" Buffy muttered as she rummaged further in her closet. If Dawn had taken her favourite leather jacket, without asking, to wear to the Bronze, then Buffy would definitely kill her. "And no court in this country would blame me!" she warned the empty room. How could she go on patrol without that jacket? She loved that jacket …

The peal of the doorbell interrupted her rant, and she straightened up with a sigh. She stomped down the stairs, renewing her vows to kill her little sister with each thud of her foot, and ignoring the little voice in her head that told her she was being a cranky-pants. She’d been in a bad mood all day, and finding her favourite jacket missing was just the final straw.

No, she was wrong. The final straw was standing outside her front door.

"What do you want, Spike?" she said, not bothering to hide the exasperation in her voice.

One of his eyebrows went up. "Thought you might miss this," he drawled, holding out a leather jacket. Her favourite leather jacket. The one she had been prepared to kill Dawn over. The one she had worn when she went to Spike’s crypt one night last week …

"Oh. Thanks." She took the jacket from him, making sure that no physical contact took place.

"Don’t worry, I’ve not come over to get in your hair," Spike told her, keeping his voice light. "Just thought you’d want your jacket. Um, and this …" he reached into an inside pocket of his leather duster "…is for Dawn. I promised it to her a while back."

He handed her an old book, bound in leather. It fell open in her hands and she stared blankly at page of verse.

"What is it?" she asked automatically, then winced, waiting for the sarcastic rejoinder.

"Poetry?" It came as expected, and she sighed. Sometimes he could be so predictable. "It’s a book I’ve had for a while, it has some lines I thought Dawn would find interesting. We talked about some of it a while back, when she first found out she was the Key. So I told her I’d lend it to her."

"Oh." That’s so nice. But she wasn’t going to say those words out loud.

"Just two things I need to say, Buffy."

She looked up, prepared to forestall him. She wasn’t going to let him try to sweet talk her. Or any other kind of talk.

He continued before she got the chance. "Don’t fret, love, I heard what you said this morning." His head tilted in that way that made her stomach flutter, and his eyes bored into hers. "I won’t be pestering you, Buffy. I just wanted to say that, I’ll still be around if you need any help. You know, looking after Dawn or anything like that.

"Secondly, I need to tell you … I was minding those eggs for friend, Buffy. I didn’t know what they were, I just owed him a favour. He needed a place to store them. I don’t know if you believe me or not, but I want you to know the truth."

He stopped speaking. She wouldn’t even meet his eyes, and he sighed. Oh well. Can’t say he didn’t try.

"Right then. Bye, Slayer." He gave her a half-grin, just that little curl of his mouth, then turned and walked away, the darkness swallowing him quickly until even his white-blonde hair wasn’t visible in the night.

Only then did Buffy realise she was still standing at the open door, clutching her jacket and the book.

****

"We’ll do this by the book, Finn!"

"Yes sir." Riley answered smartly, but mentally he was shaking his head. With Buffy, and the Scoobies, there was no "by the book". Improvisation was their best weapon. He remembered hearing the story about the time Buffy had destroyed the Judge. Books had been pretty useless then, hadn’t they? But you couldn’t argue with Colonel McNamara. He was too senior in the Initiative. And if he wanted to stick to the original plan for getting rid of Buffy, then that’s what they would do.

TBC

CHAPTER TWO - WEDDING BELLS

The slam of the door roused Buffy from her absorption in the poems. Who was that? It couldn’t be Dawn, it was far too early for her to be back from the Bronze ...

It was Dawn, and Buffy rose to her feet.

"Dawn? What’s wrong?"

Her sister looked at her, bewildered. "Nothing’s wrong. Why? What’s happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing’s happened. You’re back so early, I just thought that something was wrong ..."

"Early?" Dawn queried. "I thought my curfew was eleven. Do you mean I could have stayed out later?"

"No, of course not. But it’s not eleven yet ..." Buffy looked at her watch. Smack on eleven o’clock. "Oh my God! I had no idea it was so late! I haven’t been patrolling yet ..."

"What have you been doing?" Dawn asked. Her eyes fell on the book of poetry on the couch. "Oh! Did Spike drop that over? I was wondering if he was still planning to lend it to me. Is that what you’ve been reading?"

"Um. Yes. So .." Buffy sought to change to topic, unsettled by the fact that she had become so absorbed in the poetry that she had lost all track of time. "Where’s Willow?"

"She’s still at the Bronze," Dawn confided. "We met Tara there, and they kind of got all intense talking, so Xander and Anya and I left. They just dropped me off."

"Right. Well I’ll wait till Willow get back before I patrol ..."

"I wouldn’t bother with the patrol thing," said Dawn airily as she made her way up the stairs with the book. "So many of Anya’s wedding guests are in Sunnydale at the moment, you might end up staking the chief bridesmaid." She grinned over her shoulder. "Goodnight!"

Good point. Buffy collapsed on the sofa. So. No patrolling. No book. Definitely no Spike. And unfortunately, no sleepiness. What was she going to do now?

She stretched out on the sofa and closed her eyes, recalling the lines of verse she had just read. They were amazing. Powerful. As though the writer had seen into her head and pulled forth her feeling, thoughts, emotions. Her battles, mental and physical, all transcribed on the page. She knew that Dawn would find comfort in the poems. It was very thoughtful of Spike to ...

She shook her head. No. No thinking like that. Bad Buffy.

She sighed and looked for the TV remote control. Might as well see what was on the late night movies.

****

Spike flicked off the TV in disgust. Nothing worth watching at all.

He paced around his crypt, which he had tidied and refurnished, feeling trapped. Two weeks. Over two week, in fact. Since he had seen Buffy. He had hoped that she would pay him a visit, find some excuse to see him. But he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t. She could be pretty strong-willed.

The only thing that had kept him from going mad was the knowledge that he would be seeing her tonight. At Xander and Anya’s wedding.

He had been touched when Anya had dropped round an invitation a few weeks back.

"Xander didn’t want to invite you," she had informed him with her customary bluntness, and he had had to hide a smile. Not really surprising, that. "But I’ve got to put up with all his family, so I’m inviting you." She had shoved a cream envelope into his hands, and left.

So at least he knew he would see Buffy tonight. It was even worth attending a wedding, just for that. Oh, and of course to see the look on Xander’s face when he turned up.

****

The look on Dawn’s face was one of complete and utter horror.

"They’re not that bad," said Willow, ever optimistic.

"No. They’re worse, " grumped Buffy.

Willow, Dawn and Buffy stared at their reflections disconsolately. Glow-in-the-dark bridesmaid dresses? What was Anya thinking?

"Well, it’s not as though we didn’t know," Willow said, trying to rally the troops. "We’ve had about a gazillion fittings. We knew they were green."

"And fluffy," added Buffy.

"And gross," contributed Dawn.

Buffy studied the frilly, long dresses, then looked at the three faces reflected in the mirror. It was too much. The frothy dresses and the gloomy faces were such a contrast .... she began to giggle. Willow and Dawn looked at her in surprise.

"Sorry guys," she said, controlling her chuckles. "It’s just ... it’s a wedding, not a funeral. And it’s what Anya wanted. After all, there’s going to be a lot worse at this wedding!"

"True," the others agreed. They all squared the shoulders and pasted broad smiles on their faces, then went to meet Anya, humming "Here Comes The Bride".

****

The sounds of the Wedding March filled the room, and Dawn, then Willow, then Buffy proceeded down the central aisle. The movement of a blonde head on her right caught Buffy’s attention, and she almost stumbled as she recognised Spike sitting in one of the rows. Next to that vengeance demon who was a friend of Anya’s. The one who had put the spell on the house at her birthday - what was her name? Halfrek. Who hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Spike that day ...

Buffy realised she was lagging and quickened her pace to catch up with Willow. Behind her, Anya was being led down the aisle by the demon d‘Hoffryn, and Buffy moved into place as the ceremony began.

The service wasn’t long, and shortly they all moved into the reception area where drinks were being served, under the watchful eyes of the bride and groom. Spike watched as Buffy avoided both his eyes and his presence, circulating around the room anywhere but near him. Luckily for him, Halley seemed to have taken quite a fancy to him, and was keeping him entertained with anecdotes of her job. It wasn’t too hard to look as though he was enjoying himself whenever Buffy happened to look his way. Which he sensed was quite often.

As the food began to be served, Spike grabbed a full bottle of beer and retreated upstairs, where he knew there was a secluded balcony where he could smoke while everyone ate. He pulled out the first cigarette of the evening and lit up, inhaling the smoke deeply and enjoying the combined taste of beer and nicotine. One good thing about a demon wedding, you can guarantee there’ll be good beer, he told himself. Not like that weak American piss you usually get in Sunnydale ...

His musings on beer were interrupted by a green-clad form slipping onto the balcony and turning to shut the door. He wasted a moment admiring the excellent figure before ...

"Don’t shut the door!" But it was too late. Buffy had closed the door behind her. The one without a handle on this side.

Buffy jumped at the sound of the voice. She just had to get away from the party for a bit, feeling stifled in the unwieldy dress and uncomfortable at knowing Spike was in the room. She dreaded the thought of him approaching her, while at the same time wondering why he hadn’t yet. She had remembered that there was a quiet balcony upstairs and had decided to slip away, just for 10 minutes, while everyone found their seats and started on their food. She hadn’t expected to find anyone else up here. Least of all Spike. She hadn’t seen anyone on the balcony as she entered from the brightly lit hallway. She spun around, searching for him in the darkness.

He was perched on the stone wall around the balcony, legs hanging down the side, a beer resting by his side and the smoke from a cigarette trailing from his fingers. He looked ...

She had noticed what he looked like earlier. He had dressed in his customary black, but in an elegant black shirt and tailored trousers, with a long black dress coat instead of his usual casual gear. He looked ... amazing.

As she looked at him, unable to say anything, he swung down from the wall and came over to her. She prepared to fend him off, but he reached straight past her to the door. What was going on?

"Bloody hell," she heard him say.

"What - what’s wrong?" Buffy asked.

"There’s no door handle on this side," he said curtly. "We’re trapped."

"What?" Buffy scrabbled at the door, looking for a way to open it, while he moved back to the railing and pulled himself up again. He watched her, one eyebrow raised, as she realised the futility of her actions and swung around with a sigh to lean against the door.

"Great," she said. "So now what?"

"Someone will come looking for us sooner or later," Spike said with a shrug. "Or else someone will come out onto the balcony. We’ll just have to wait."

She resigned herself to the wait and, with feigned nonchalance, strolled over towards him. The balcony was on the third storey, and commanded an excellent view over Sunnydale. She peeped over at the driveway below them, and then sideways at Spike, perched precariously on the wall.

"I’d just have to give you one little push ..." she joked, motioning at the drop below.

He didn’t move. "But you wouldn’t."

She raised her eyebrows at him, a bit annoyed by his lack of concern. After all, she was the Slayer. And he was a vampire. He should be a little more wary of her.

"Oh really? I wouldn‘t?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I know you wouldn’t. I trust you."

"You TRUST me?" she said sharply. "What do you mean, you trust me? Why should you?"

He seemed amused by her anger, and that made her rage increase. "I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Buffy. Just as you know, deep down, that I would never hurt you."

"I don’t know any such thing!" she shouted, incensed. She dragged him off the railing and threw him against the wall, pinning him there. "I don’t trust you at all. You’re a vampire. A demon. There’s no way I would ever trust you!"

The amusement was gone from his eyes now, but he continued to regard her calmly.

"I would never hurt you, Buffy." His voice was low but strong.

"Oh really?" She tilted her head, exposing the line where her throat curved into her shoulder. "I’m the only human on the planet that you’re able to feed on, aren’t I, Spike? Do you ever think of that? Do you ever think that, if you want to enjoy the feed, the feast, ever again, then I’m the only person you’ll be able to come to? Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never thought about it, never remembered what it was like? Wondered if you’ll ever experience it again? Well, here I am. Your one and only chance. Why don’t you just take it?"

His eyes were fastened on the scar at her neck where others had fed from her. She couldn’t see the expression in them, but she knew it would be hunger. Hunger for her blood. He was going to do it ...

He lowered his head, seeking that vulnerable spot, and she felt the most overpowering sense of disappointment. He was going to do it ...

She held firm, wanting him to bite her, wanting it to happen so that she could finally, for good, hate him the way that she should.

His lips brushed against the scar in the most tender kiss she had ever experienced, and she was unable to prevent a shiver that sparked down her spine.

"I will never hurt you, Buffy." His voice was a whisper, a vow, and she felt the rush of air lift the hairs at the nape of her neck. Unbidden, her fingers loosened their hold on him, all strength drained from her. His head raised and she found herself staring into ice-blue eyes, unable to tear her gaze away.

A noise at the door broke into her trance, and she pushed herself away from Spike as the door opened.

"Hello?" Dawn’s head appeared. "Buffy? Are you out here?"

"Dawn!" Buffy almost leapt towards her. "Thank God! The door shut, and we were trapped ..."

"We?" Dawn’s gaze finally fell on Spike. "Hey! Spike! I was hoping to see you! I’ve read that book of poetry, like, a thousand times! It’s so excellent! Can I talk to you about it one time? Why don’t you come over one night in the week? We can sit down and talk about them ..."

Her voice trailed off as she saw the look of horror on Buffy’s face, but her gaze didn’t falter. "You don’t mind do you Buffy? It was nice of Spike to lend me his book, I’ve got to give it back to him sometime. And I’d really like to discuss some of it with him. Unless you’d rather I went by his place some time?"

Subtle, Spike thought with an inward smile. There was no way in hell Buffy would ever allow that and Dawn knew it perfectly well. And Buffy knew that Dawn knew that. He kept his poker face on though. He wasn’t going to get involved in this discussion. It was entirely up to Buffy.

Buffy longed to say no, but the look on Dawn’s face was too much. It meant so much to her.

"Sure," she said with forced cheerfulness. "How about Thursday?"

Spike nodded casually, then moved past her to the open door. "Thursday it is." He bent to give Dawn a kiss on the cheek. "How ‘bout a dance later, niblet?"

In her shock, Buffy almost found herself locked outside again. Dazed, she followed her sister and Spike downstairs, watching as they laughed and joked. She shook her head in amazement. What kind of weird world did she live in, where her best friend was marrying a demon (okay, ex-demon) and her sister was best pals with a vampire?

"It’s called Sunnydale," she told herself with a sigh, and she went to get some dinner.

****

"Dinner-time at the zoo," McNamara murmured, watching bags of various foods being wheeled down the long corridors.

Riley dodged around one cart that threatened to take him out, then caught up with Sam and McNamara . They only had about 50 vampires at the moment, but the centre could hold up to 500. Buffy’s return from the dead had thrown a very large spanner into the works. All those vampires, rounded up and herded towards a Sunnydale that should have been Slayer-free, only to find that she had been brought back to life somehow, and was making short work of all those hostiles. No, not hostiles. They were called "subjects" now. Part of the Initiative’s big plan.

Riley took a deep breath as they entered the meeting room. It was time to update the leaders on their progress with neutralising the Slayer, and learn the next stages of the plan.

He saluted the woman already in the meeting room, and took the seat indicated, next to Sam. He bit back a grin as she leaned slightly away from him. She had hated pretending to be his wife the other week. Sam’s interests definitely lay in other areas. In fact, she hadn’t been able to stop talking about Willow for days.

Lara Wilcox had started speaking, and he mentally snapped to attention.

"I’ve read your progress report, Colonel McNamara," she was saying. "The intervention by Finn and Maddison here was definitely beneficial. Our surveillance has shown that she has stopped spending time with the vampire, and our doctors definitely believe that she has become more depressed in the past few weeks. We will soon be able to implement the final stages of the program, and then the plan can proceed as planned."

"Excellent." McNamara hesitated, and his eyes flicked to Riley. "Ms Wilcox, I think we should be prepared for every eventuality when it comes to dealing with the Slayer. Her past record has shown a remarkable ability to deal with every challenge."

Wilcox’s mouth turned into a small, tight smile. "We are completely prepared, Colonel. It will all go to plan. The Slayer will be neutralised, and we will begin releasing the subject vampires. There is absolutely no cause for alarm."


TBC

CHAPTER THREE - THE USUAL SUSPECTS

The sound of the alarm roused Buffy from sleep, and she buried her head in her pillow for a moment, trying to recapture the wonderful dream she had been having. A dream about ... She sat bolt upright as she realised that the dream was about Spike. God, what was wrong with her? How could she be dreaming about sex with a vampire? Even if it was incredible sex. Everyone knows that great sex doesn’t mean anything, she scolded herself as she stumbled into the shower. In fact, everyone knows that great sex usually takes place with completely incompatible people. That’s the definition of great sex.

She turned her head into the spray of the shower, willing away all thoughts of Spike and sex. Spike, naked ... It was useless. She was rarely able to think of anything else. He’d managed to get under her skin, and she hadn’t even realised until it was too late.

The day at work seemed to go even slower than usual. Thank goodness she was on the early shift, so she’d be home when Dawn got back from school. She hated the fact that Dawn was alone in the house so much. Having Willow live with them made a huge difference, but even so, Dawn spent far too much time alone. It was why she’d found it impossible to refuse Dawn’s request to invite Spike over ... which, Buffy realised, was happening tonight.

At long last her shift was over, and she hurried home, determined to wash away all smells of Doublemeat Palace as soon as she could. She soaked in the tub for a while, then pulled on some jeans and a top, before heading downstairs to sort out some laundry. She was running out of clothes, and had arranged to meet Willow at the Bronze later in the evening. Xander and Anya were still on their honeymoon for the next few weeks, and they were planning a good ol’ girls night out.

She was setting up the ironing board to tackle the huge pile of crumpled clothes when the door slamming announced that Dawn was home.

"Hey Buffy!" Dawn flung her school bag onto the couch before coming to give Buffy a hug. She was in high spirits, and Buffy couldn’t help smiling. "I’m going to bake a cake. Do we have enough butter in the fridge?"

She disappeared into the kitchen at whirlwind speed, and Buffy heard her rummaging around. "Found it!" Dawn reappeared clutching the tub triumphantly like a trophy. "Do you think Spike likes cake?"

"He’s always talking about it," Buffy mumbled, but Dawn had already gone back into the kitchen. From the noise she made, it sounded more like an earthquake was taking place than cooking, but eventually the scent of baking filled the house, and Dawn rushed through the living room on her way upstairs.

"I’m going to shower now and get ready for the Bronze," she called over her shoulder. "Call me if the timer on the oven goes off!"

The bathroom door slammed, and Buffy debated whether or not to go see what state the kitchen was in. She cast an eye on the pile of ironing next to her, and decided not to. "One challenge at a time," she told herself.

She got through a few more pieces of ironing before the doorbell rang. It was dark outside already, and it could only be one person ...

Spike.

She squared her shoulders. Smoothed back her hair. Straightened her top. And went to answer the door.

Slowly, her eyes travelled up ... from black boots ... legs clad in black jeans ... surrounded by black leather ... a black belt ... a dark grey shirt ... and then the shock of the pale skin, like a Grecian statue, the platinum hair slicked back, that irresistible head tilt ... and the blue eyes like a dive into an ice-cold sea ... except that these made her feel hot. The eyes of an angel that promised nothing but pleasure ...

"Buffy." His voice was a shock She almost had to shake herself out of her reverie.

"Spike. Come in." She stood aside to allow him to enter, and almost jumped as the swing of the leather coat brushed against her thigh. Quickly, she followed him into the living room, gesturing for him to have a seat.

"So. Um. Dawn will be right down." Did her voice sound strange? She cleared her throat, conscious of his eyes on her but not daring to meet them. "Can I, um, get you a drink?"

"I’m good." How could he sound so calm and collected? Wasn’t he the one that was supposed to be in love with her? Then why was she the gabbling idiot here? She risked a peek at his eyes....

They were locked on her. The look in them ... it made her catch her breath. The same look she had seen when he had been moving inside her, trying to show her his love without actually saying it because he knew that she didn’t want to hear. The look that made her stomach clench and her breath catch. Even now, in her living room, with Dawn upstairs and the iron hissing ... all she could think of was how he made her feel. How he had worshipped her body with hands and lips and tongue, showing her all the things that he didn’t dare to say. How he had caressed her, bringing her pleasure over and over before letting himself take his own. The expression on his face as he entered her, complete concentration, lost in the moment, in the sensation ...

Her eyes were locked with his, her breath coming so quickly she was almost panting. And she jumped a mile when Dawn burst into the room. Slayer senses hadn’t even heard her coming down the stairs.

"Spike! I thought I heard you! Hey, I baked a cake. Do you like chocolate cake? Come into the kitchen, we can talk and eat. I wanted to talk to you about that poem about the journey, you know the one?"

Buffy watched as her sister grabbed Spike by the hand and led him into the kitchen. Their voices were faint as she returned to the ironing, but she could still make out what they were saying, even with mouths full of chocolate cake.

She was amazed at what Dawn had to say. She had always thought that her sister was smart, but this was ... insightful, intelligent, thoughtful. She had never realised just how clever Dawn was. And Spike ...

He had told her that he had been a poet. He had also told her that his poetry was bloody awful. But now ... now she saw that he had ...

No! Not that! Never that! Was she going mad? How could she possibly have been thinking that Spike had the soul of a poet?

She flung aside the pair of trousers that she was ironing. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She was definitely going mad. Losing her mind. She must be ...

Buffy sprinted up the stairs two at a time and threw herself down on her bed. Her very skin seemed too tight, and she felt like screaming out in frustration. She could have done with a long training session in the Magic Shop, pummelling out her feelings into a punchbag.

She took some deep calming breaths, telling herself that they were helping. Then she took some more deep calming breaths, until she could feel some of the tension easing from her body. Then she pulled herself off the bed and got out the clothes she planned to wear to the Bronze tonight. Dressing quickly, she began to apply some makeup.

"Buffy!" Dawn ran up the stairs.

"Yeah?" Buffy concentrated on putting on mascara.

"Spike’s going to come to the Bronze with us. That’s okay, right?"

Oh sure, that’s fine, Buffy said sarcastically to her reflection. Just what I always wanted.

"Buffy?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." She didn’t trust herself to say anything else, but she looked at herself in the mirror and rolled her eyes.

****

Spike looked around as they entered the Bronze. It seemed like weeks since he’d been here. The last time ... he cast an involuntary glance upwards at the overhanging catwalks. The last time, he’d seduced Buffy up there. Said some pretty stupid things to her. He’s had a few drinks and had come over all dark and poetic.

He looked over at her. She was ... beautiful. Not classically beautiful. But the smoothest skin. The most delicious sulky lips. The firmest, sexiest body. And the strongest, purest spirit he had ever encountered.

Her gaze slid his way, and he quickly looked away. Before, in her house, they had shared a moment ... he didn’t know what to make of it. But it gave him hope. There had been something in her eyes that told him not to give up.

They spotted Willow at a table and moved over to join her.

"Hi guys! Um, and Spike. Hi! How are we all?" Willow seemed a bit surprised to see Spike, but she quickly accepted it. Spike liked Willow, although he would never dream of telling her that. She was loyal, and sensitive, and intelligent.

"Hey, Red." He perched on a stool at the table and looked around. The band seemed pretty good, and a number of people were jumping around on the dance floor. He watched them for a moment, idly wondering what he would be feeling if he had no chip in his head. He tried to imagine picking one of them as his next meal. Without realising it, he shook his head. He didn’t think he would be able to do it. Somehow, they had become real to him. Not just pawns, or lesser life forms, but real people. His eyes moved back to the table. Just like the three beautiful women seated in front of him, engrossed in conversation. He couldn’t believe that he had somehow ended up here. From Big Bad to - what? What was he? He looked at the animated faces of Buffy, Dawn, Willow, and knew. He was incredibly lucky.

"Spike!" Dawn’s voice roused him, and he turned to her, unable to stop the smile that crept onto his lips. "Come and dance with me! I’ve been practicing those steps you showed me at the wedding."

She jumped up and grabbed his hand, and he let her lead him onto the dance floor.

There was silence at the table for a few minutes, then ...

"Buffy?"

Buffy tore her gaze from the dance floor, where she was watching Spike and Dawn ham it up. "Uh-huh?"

"What is Spike doing here?" Willow asked.

"The tango?"

"No, no, not there," Willow said. "Here, Buffy. I mean, what’s going on? Why did you bring him with?"

"I didn’t, not really," said Buffy. "It was Dawn. He came round to see her, to talk about some poetry book that he’d lent her, and then she invited him along ... Sorry. Are you upset?"

Willow shrugged. "No, not upset. Just surprised. I mean, I thought you hated him."

"Well, I do. I did." She sighed. "God, Will, I’m not sure any more." Buffy admitted, and her best friend smiled sympathetically.

"It’s hard, isn’t it? Sometimes, he seems almost human. Last summer, when you - weren’t here - he was actually kind of sweet. He really seems to dote on Dawn. Sometimes I forgot that once upon a time he was trying the whole torture-and-kill stuff on us all."

"You too?" Buffy turned eagerly to Willow. "I thought it was just me, going mad. I mean, it’s Spike. Evil vampire, killed two Slayers. Tried to kill us, a number of times. So why do I sometimes forget that?"

Willow shrugged. "I don’t know. I guess because of the chip ... it’s like, because he knows he can’t kill, the urge to do so is fading - kind of like an evolution."

"But -" Buffy had to voice her deepest fear. "What if the chip came out?"

"Who knows, Buffy. We don’t really know all that much about vampires. Just that it’s a demon who’s taken over a human body. But we’ve seen enough demons to know how different they all are. Some of them are actually - well, not nice exactly. But - Clem - he’s, you know, okay. And the vampires are different too. They all have different personalities. They all HAVE personalities." Willow paused, trying to express her thoughts. "Maybe, if the impulse to kill is removed, that personality has a chance to grow. I don’t know. Do you think Spike would go back to the way he was, if he could harm humans again?"

"I just don’t know," whispered Buffy. She turned to look on the dance floor again. Spike was bending Dawn into a low graceful dip, her long hair almost brushing the floor. Her face was alight with laughter in a way that Buffy hadn’t seen since their mother died. Almost against her will, her thoughts returned to that moment on the balcony, when she had dared Spike to bite her, and he had refused. What did that mean?

She noticed that Spike and Dawn were leaving the dance floor, Dawn heading back to the table while Spike went over to the bar.

"That was amazing!" said Dawn, out of breath. Buffy laughed.

"You looked pretty good out there!" she complimented.

"Your sister‘s got some good moves," Spike said from behind her. He moved onto the stool next to her, placing some drinks on the table. He took a long pull from his bottle of beer. "Worn me out there, niblet."

Dawn made a face. "You’re just showing your age, Spike. C’mon Will. Let’s show the old’uns how it’s done."

Without giving her a chance to reply, Dawn dragged a reluctant Willow onto the dance floor, leaving Spike and Buffy alone at the table.

Buffy felt Spike lean towards her.

"I hope you don’t mind my being here, Slayer."

A sarcastic response rushed up, but she remembered the happiness on Dawn’s face as she danced, and bit it back.

"Of course not," she said softly instead. She steeled herself to turn and meet his eyes. "I’m glad that Dawn is enjoying herself."

An eyebrow quirked. "And what about you, Buffy." His voice was so low that she had to lean closer to hear him. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Of - of course." Was that husky sound her voice?

He slid off his stool in one fluid motion and held out a hand to her. She stared at it, mesmerised.

"Dance with me?"

He eyes flew upwards, meeting his. His face was expressionless, but in his eyes she saw fire.

She stood and placed her hand in his, and in silence they moved onto the dance floor. They faced each other, and he lifted their clasped hands, sliding his other hand around her waist to pull her marginally closer. She rested her free hand on his upper arm, curving it around the muscle that flexed under her palm. Slowly, they began to dance.

She was here, in his arms. Spike wanted to close his eyes and just breathe in the scent of her, but he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, she would disappear. Instead, he focussed on soft movement of her hair as she swayed to the music, and the feel of her supple body against his. The music washed around him, and he felt, somehow, at peace.

Buffy couldn’t put her finger on what she was feeling. She frowned lightly, taking out the sensation and turning it over in her mind. It was an unfamiliar feeling. But a nice one. It felt good. It felt, somehow, like safety.

Her frown deepened. Is that what she was feeling? In Spike’s arms, swaying against his body? Did she feel - safe?

Mentally, she shrugged. The frown smoothed away. Whatever. Whatever it was, she was just going to enjoy it. She closed her eyes and let the music wash around her.

Too soon, the song ended, and the band indicated that they were going to take a break. Buffy pulled slightly back and met Spike’s eyes.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked. She nodded her head. Drink. That would be good.

She watched as he moved over to the bar. He moved like a cat, she noticed. Graceful, sleek, deliberate...

Her attention was pulled away by a hand wrapping itself around her wrist.

"Hey there gorgeous! This is your lucky night. I‘m here, and I ain‘t gonna leave you." A tall, dark and overweight guy was standing over her, gripping her arm and leering. Yuk. He stank of beer and sweat, and he looked like he was having problems focussing. She considered laying him out cold, but decided that wasn’t really good manners. She’d try and make him see sense first.

"Actually, I’m here with someone," she said calmly. "Please let go of my arm."

He laughed. "I don’t see anyone here, gorgeous. So you’ve got me all to yourself." He tugged on her wrist and, unprepared, she found herself falling against him. He wrapped an arm around her and started to rub himself against her.

Before she could seriously do him some damage, she heard a voice behind her.

"I don’t think you’re really her type, mate. Why don’t you back off before you get hurt."

Spike? Buffy twisted her head to look at him, jaw dropping. What on earth did he think he was doing?

The moron holding her seemed to be wondering the same thing, although probably for a different reason. "You back off, Blondie. I found her, I’m keeping her."

Before Spike could do something stupid and get hurt, Buffy decided to speak up. "Sorry, but I wasn’t lost." She gripped the moron’s pinkie finger and pulled it back, until he released his hold on her with a squeal of pain. She quickly twisted until she was facing his back, his arm held at an awkward angle up behind him, unable to move. "Next time, make sure the lady is interested before laying hands on her," she advised him softly. She debated heaving him up in the air and throwing him across the room, but decided that she didn’t want to cause a scene. Instead, she gave him a shove that propelled him off the dance floor and against a table, where he collapsed, rubbing his shoulder. Buffy dismissed him from her mind, and turned to Spike.

"Just what did you think you were doing?" she asked incredulously.

Spike gestured at the moron, who was still moaning to himself. "He was harassing you. I came over to -" His eyes widened as he realised the futility of what he had been planning. "- scare him rigid by coming down with a massive migraine?" he finished wryly instead.

Buffy couldn’t help it. She began to laugh out loud at the mental image Spike’s words had generated. He lifted an eyebrow at her, and she laughed even harder. "Scare him - rigid - with a massive migraine!" she gasped, struggling to control herself. Spike’s other eyebrow raised to meet the other one, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"All right Slayer, I’m glad I’ve amused you so much," he said dryly. "C’mon, I’ve got you a drink. Let’s sit down and pretend this never happened."

Buffy took a deep breath, swallowed a final giggle, and put on her poker face. "Sure. Drink. Pretend. Never happened." She took the drink from Spike’s hand and moved past him to join Willow and Dawn at the table, but couldn’t resist winking at him over her shoulder. Spike followed, shaking his head ruefully.

TBC

CHAPTER FOUR - STAND BY ME

Spike pushed the doorbell, a bit nervous. He wasn’t sure that this was a good idea. But he knew that Buffy wouldn’t be here, he’d checked at Doublemeat Palace to make sure. She was working the late shift, wouldn’t be home for hours. And after his conversation with Willow at the Bronze the other night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about some of the things she had said. How hard she was finding it to not do magic. How hard it was without Tara. He knew she had been surprised that she was pouring out her feeling to him, a vampire. But perhaps she had sensed that he understood. Because he was feeling something so similar, with Buffy...

So he had thought of something that might help her. Maybe this was a really stupid idea, but when he had seen this in the shop window, he had impulsively decided to get it for her. He shifted the box in his arms carefully as he heard footsteps approaching the door. It opened, and Willow stood in the doorway.

"Spike! Hi."

He relaxed a bit, seeing nothing but welcome in her expression. "Red. How’s things?"

"Oh, you know. Getting better. You?"

"Not too bad." He raised the box slightly. I’ve, um, brought you something."

Her eyes lit up. "A present? You brought me a present?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. A present."

"Oh! Come in, come in!" She ushered him into the lounge room, where Dawn was doing her homework. "Look, Spike brought me a present!"

Dawn looked up, glad to push her homework aside. "Did you bring me a present?"

"Not this time, Niblet." He set the box down gently on the table, then lifted the lid off it.

Willow and Dawn peered inside. "Goldfish!"

Willow lifted out the heavy hexagonal goldfish bowl and studied the two inhabitants. It had come complete with pebbles in the bottom, and waving reeds. "Oh, and a little diver-man!" She was charmed.

Spike rushed to explain. "I heard that looking after is supposed to be all relaxing. I thought you might like it. Something to look after, but with no demands."

Her eyes raised to meet his. "It’s perfect, Spike. Thank you." She knew exactly what he meant. After spilling her heart out to him about how much she missed Tara, how much she regretted what she had done, and how hard she found it to avoid magic, he had thought of something that would help her. Something to care for, something that didn’t need magic, something therapeutic. She gave him a gentle smile. "Can I get you a cup of tea? Or coffee? Or whatever."

"Chocolate," Dawn supplied. "He likes hot chocolate. With marshmallows."

"Okay." The three, and the two goldfish, made their way into the kitchen.

*****

Buffy made her way up the porch steps and pushed open the front door wearily. "Guys? I’m home!" She dumped her bag and the dreaded cow-hat on the stairs, and released her hair from its ponytail. She had a headache. It had been a long day at work.

"In the kitchen!" Willow’s voice floated out. Buffy raised her eyebrows. Willow actually sounded - happy. That’s definitely for the good.

She made her way into the kitchen, pausing when she saw Spike. He was perched on a stool at the counter, long fingers wrapped around a mug. Dawn and Willow were with him. She was reminded of the time she came home to find him here with her mother and her sister, in this same kitchen ...

"Look what Spike got for Willow!" Dawn said, waving her hands excitedly. Buffy followed the gesture to the goldfish bowl, and smiled. She understood instantly. Willow had told her that she had found Spike an excellent listener at the Bronze the other night, and now he had found the perfect gift for her. She gave him a smile.

He smiled back but then got to his feet. "I didn’t mean to stay so late. Thanks for the chocolate, Red, Niblet."

"Thanks for the goldfish." Without even thinking, Willow reached up to press a kiss against his cheek.

"You’re welcome." He touched her briefly on the shoulder, then turned to brush his lips against Dawn’s forehead. "See you." He raised a hand in Buffy’s direction, and disappeared out the back door.

Dawn disappeared into the lounge room to pack up her books, and Willow began clearing up the mugs and empty bags of marshmallows. "Do you want something to eat, Buffy?"

Buffy flopped onto the stool that Spike had recently vacated. "No, I’m good." She rested her head on her hands and watched Willow move around the kitchen, then come and sit next to her.

"Buffy, I’m going to ask you something." Willow had on her "resolve" face.

"Shoot." Buffy made herself more comfortable.

"Is there something going on with you and Spike?"

Buffy's head whipped round to stare at her friend. "Um, what do you mean?" she hedged.

"Well, we all know that Spike is in love with you. But I’ve been wondering lately if you also have feelings for him."

Buffy tried to laugh. "For a vampire?"

"Yes." Willow’s tone was firm. "For a vampire."

Buffy sighed, her bravado fleeing. "I just don’t know, Will. How could I? He’s a vampire. I’m the vampire slayer. We all know how disastrous that combination was with Angel. But sometimes, he does things ... like tonight ... that make me forget ..."

"Buffy, look at me." Buffy looked into her best friend’s eyes. "I know that it sounds all wrong. I remember how I felt what I first realised that my feelings towards Tara were more than just friendship. I wondered if there was something wrong with me. I worried about what my friends would all say. Would they think less of me? But then I realised that my friends loved me enough to just want me to be happy. And I knew that I would be happy with Tara." Willow paused, then continued talking. "And ... I’ve made mistakes that have hurt Tara - the person that I love - enormously. So all I can do now is try to do the right thing, and hope that in time she will realise that I’ve learnt from those mistakes, and that I have become someone that she can love, and trust, and be with. That what I’ve done in the past isn’t necessarily the person I am now. That I’ve changed."

Buffy was speechless. Willow smiled and gave Buffy a quick hug. "I’m going to go to bed now. See you in the morning."

*****

Riley flopped down on his bed. They had set the date for next week. That’s when they would pick up Buffy, and set the final plan in motion.

He knew that she had to be removed, and he searched his conscience for any feelings of guilt. He was vaguely surprised, and immensely relieved, that he didn’t feel any. He believed 100 percent in what the Initiative planned. When it had been explained to him what Professor Walsh had been trying to achieve, he had realised that they were right. The only way to fight the demons, to get rid of them all, was to use other demons. Vampires, to be exact. Vampires were close enough to humans, physically and also mentally, that they made the perfect subject for the chip. The chip that meant they couldn’t hurt humans, but could kill other demons. With a few modifications to the test chip that had been implanted in Hostile 17, they would form the perfect army against demons. It was a brilliant plan.

Buffy was the only thing that stood in the way. The news of her death had been welcomed. The news of her return, not so much. So what could they do with a girl that wouldn’t stay dead? Neuter her, that’s what. Thanks to the series of cameras and microphones that had been set up around Sunnydale by some local nerds with big ideas, they had been able to monitor almost every aspect of Buffy’s life. They knew how hard she was finding it to deal with her return. How isolated, alienated she had felt from those around her. How she loathed herself for turning to the one person who gave her what she needed - understanding, love, comfort. How confused she was by the fact that Spike could hurt her, and how she had doubted herself because of that fact.

Riley and Sam’s little play-acting had helped make Buffy feel even worse about herself, and more importantly detach her from the support of the vampire Spike. He had been helping her come to terms with her return, and that couldn’t be allowed. So the entire episode of the eggs and the demon had been carefully set up, along with Riley’s interruption of their love-making for full humiliation, and his little speech that was designed to rub salt in the wounds.

Their next step had been to create the hallucinations that meant Buffy believed she was in a mental institution, not a Slayer at all. That had been tricky, but the scientists had come up with a way of manipulating the mental images that the demon venom had caused. It wasn’t perfect, but it had almost worked - they had come so close. But Buffy had managed to fight back, rid her system of the venom and overcome the hallucinations.

Now, it was almost time for the next stage.

TBC

CHAPTER FIVE - IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT

"Time is running out!"

Riley frowned. Wilcox sounded - almost desperate. He kept silent, watching the woman pacing in front of him. She swung around suddenly to face McNamara.

"My superiors were not happy that we missed the deadline to have 500 subjects here, implanted and under training. They understand that the return of the Slayer was an unexpected delay, but we cannot afford to make any more mistakes. Do you understand?"

A sheen of sweat was appearing on McNamara’s forehead. "I understand, Ms Wilcox. The scientific team assures me that they are working to overcome the problem. There should be no reason for the subjects to be able to withstand the training. I’m sure that by tomorrow, the training will be back on schedule."

"You’d better be sure," Wilcox snarled. "One more cock-up, and the Initiative will be over for good, this time. There’s only so long I can hide this from my superiors, Colonel."

"Yes ma’am," McNamara said smartly. "I assure you that my next report will more than satisfy. We start the procedure to neutralise the Slayer tomorrow. The plan is fool-proof."

****

Spike stretched out on his couch, abandoning his plan to read the newspaper. He couldn’t stop thinking about Buffy. He had been sure that her attitude towards him was changing, but it had now been five days since he had last seen her. Since he had been at her house with Willow and Dawn.

He had hoped that he would hear from her before now. But there hadn’t been a peep. He wasn’t sure what his next move should be.

Spike debated the options. Plan A. He could pay her a visit. Go round the house. The problem with that was, he would be ignoring her request to him that they have nothing to do with each other. Granted, she wasn’t exactly complying with those rules. But he supposed that he shouldn’t try to overstep the bounds. He had to tread carefully.

Right. So, Plan B. He could wait for her to pay him a visit. Just like he had been waiting for the past five days. He didn’t like that plan very much. It was getting old.

That left Plan C. Which was to "accidentally" run into her somehow. The best bet would be to meet up with her on patrol. He turned this plan over in his head. It wasn’t brilliant, but it was the best he could come up with. He checked his watch. 9.00pm. She usually came through this area a bit later. He’d wait for a while, then head out to see if he could find her.

With a plan, Spike felt better. He picked up the newspaper and shook it out in front of him.

****

Buffy moved silently through the cemetery, shaking vampire dust out of her hair and picking her way amongst the headstones. It had been a quiet night. A couple of vamps earlier had barely caused her to raise a sweat. Too easy. She checked her watch. Just past eleven o’clock.

She paused, looking down the path on her left. She knew where it led. Straight to Spike’s crypt. She hadn’t seen him in a few days. Five, to be exact. Perhaps it would just be polite to pop in and say hello. See how he was.

She made her way half way down the path before she realised what she had just thought.

"Pop in and say hello?" she said out loud, just to savour how truly ridiculous it sounded. "As you do. Pop in on a vampire, have a nice cuppa with your mortal enemy ..." She heaved a sigh. "Buffy Anne Summers, you are truly going mad." She turned and made her way back to her patrol route, shaking her head in disgust.

****

Spike’s head lifted. He had heard something outside ....

He changed into his game face, to enhance his senses. Yes. It was Buffy. He could hear her quiet footsteps, smell her unique scent. He fancied he could even hear the thud of her heart and the flow of her blood. It was just like the hunt. Except a thousand times better. Because this time, he wasn’t looking to feed.

He brought back his human face, and slid to his feet. She was moving away from him. But he wouldn’t let her. Silently, he opened the door and slipped outside.

Buffy was still berating herself when she became aware of footsteps behind her. She froze, bringing her Slayer senses to the fore. Vampires. At least two. One behind her and slightly to the right. Another ... directly behind her.

She swung around. A big vampire, strong too, she realised after a couple of blows. He was barely reeling under her fists and feet. She, however, had felt the impact of his strikes. She had to concentrate, too, on the other vampire. She could feel him coming up on her left side and she allowed herself a quick glance to gauge the threat. Another big vampire. He looked just as tough. He wasn’t going to wait for his turn either ... She ducked under his blow, but was helpless to fend off a kick from Vamp A that knocked her off her feet. Winded, she forced herself up and out of the way of a vicious kick. She’d lost sight of Vampire B, but Vamp A was threatening her again - and dammit! She stumbled as her ankle gave beneath her. She must have twisted it - badly - when she fell. She pulled out a stake and hoped for the best. If she could just dust Vamp A before Vamp B had another go at her ... In her heart, she knew she would be lucky to get that chance.

To her relief, however, she saw a black-clad figure with white-blonde hair rush past her, and knew that Spike was taking care of Vamp B. So she could concentrate on dusting this one ... She held her ground as he rushed, knowing that she didn’t have the manoeuvrability to out-move him. Her stillness seemed to throw him, and she saw him hesitate for a split-second. It was all she needed. She slipped under his arm and she drove the stake hard into his heart. In a second, he was gone.

She turned just in time to see the other vampire disappear in a cloud of dust, and Spike straighten up.

"Spike. Thank God you turned up!" she breathed. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow, and she blushed as she realised how gushing she had sounded. She rushed to explain: "I think I’ve twisted my ankle. I’m not sure how long I could have held them off for ..." Oh, whatever, she told herself. Who cares if Spike heard her gush. He’d heard her gush worse, in bed ... She told herself to shut up now.

He strode towards her, frowning. "You’ve twisted your ankle? How bad?" He paused in front of her, waiting for her to test the injury. Buffy hobbled forward gingerly. It definitely hurt. She couldn’t put much weight on it. Her patrolling was over for the night.

He grabbed her arms as she almost stumbled over. "C’mon. Let’s get you home."

Spike tentatively slipped an arm around her waist, half-expecting her to pull away. To his surprise, however, she accepted his help without comment, and slowly they made their way out of the cemetery.

They walked along the quiet streets in companionable silence. It was still dark, but with the slightest tinge of silver that hinted of the dawn soon to come. Buffy breathed in the cool night air deeply and watched her released breath cloud up in front of her. She stole a glance at Spike, his usual long stride shortened to keep pace with her hobbling, his head down, lost in thought. He’d been incredibly sweet to her the past few times she had seen him, the sarcastic hurtful comments absent. She looked away, his profile burned into her brain. God, he had amazing cheekbones. She’d kill to have those. And those long eyelashes. Why did men always have such long eyelashes? A complete waste. A full lower lip. That felt so good to suck on ... and eyes that promised you heaven and hell, pleasure and sin...

Buffy pulled up with a start in front of her house. Someone had left the porch light on for her. She turned to Spike.

"Thank you. For - helping me with the vampires. And helping me home."

He gave her a half smile. "You’re welcome. Any time."

She turned to go up the porch steps.

"Buffy?"

She turned back.

"Honestly. Any time. If you need company, or help ..."

She nodded slowly. He meant it.

Before she could change her mind, she blurted out:

"Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Dawn and Willow would like to see you ..." She took a breath. "Except Willow’s making a vegetable stew, so maybe you wouldn’t like that too much ... and maybe you’ve already got plans ... and -"

"Buffy."

She subsided.

"I’d love to come. Vegetable stew sounds fine. I’ll bring dessert. How’s that sound?"

She smiled. "That sounds good. Say, seven o‘clock?"

"Seven it is." He smiled, then swung around and disappeared into the silvering night. Buffy let herself into the house, and went upstairs to catch up on some sleep.

TBC