An obnoxious alarm sound started resonating in the room, and Spike woke up, startled, from a delicious dream in which he had finally managed to escape his bonds, only to find that his Slayer had come for him and cleared the way out.  He struggled with the chains for a moment, knowing it was useless but unable to resist trying just the same.  He stopped when the alarm stopped, mere seconds after it had started.  What was going on out there?  For a few minutes he listened intently, trying to discern sounds of fighting or agitation, but he didn’t hear anything recognizable.  Nonetheless, a small smile started curling his lips.  He couldn’t hear a thing, but he could feel his Slayer coming closer and closer.  Then there was a gunshot, and he took an involuntary breath, hoping with his whole being that she wasn’t hurt.  The door of his cell finally opened, and he knew then that it wasn’t just another dream, because he would never dream of the kid Slayer coming to his help.  And coming past the kid, there she was…  God, she was gorgeous.

He barely noticed the presence of the wanker, his whole attention now resting on his approaching Childe.

“’Knew you’d come, luv,” he said with a grin.  “But it took you long enough.”

Ignoring the chains, she molded her body to his, and pressed burning kisses to his face, whispering that she was sorry.  He was about to tell her it was OK, but her mouth finally covered his and there were more important things to do than talk.  After these four nights that had seemed like an eternity, it was heaven to feel her hands slip under what remained of his shirt, to breathe in her scent, surrounded by his own coming from old leather, to hear her small moan, to taste her.  It was heaven after the hell of separation, but it still wasn’t enough.  She seemed to realize it as he did, because she broke the kiss and shifted to her demon visage as she bared her throat to him.  He followed her lead thoughtlessly, but waited for her to be ready before he pierced her skin.  They had done this so often, they knew each other so well, that it was easy to do it exactly together and make the sharing that much powerful.

If it had been heaven before, he didn’t know what it was now.  After being denied blood for this long, to finally feed was of course incredibly good.  But to feed from his Childe, Mate, and Slayer all at once made it so much more.

And, incredibly, not enough yet.  He still wanted more.  He needed more.  Needed her as much as he needed blood.  Feel her around him, feel her body shake in his embrace, over and over again, until they had made up for all this time spent apart.  He tried to wrap his arms around her, only to be painfully reminded that he was still chained up, and groaned against her skin.  Immediately, she stopped pulling on his blood, and he understood she must have thought she was taking too much.  He managed to let go of her, giving a last lap at the fresh punctures, and his head came up to see hazel again eyes look at him worriedly.

“I’m fine,” he said with a reassuring smile.  “Just a bit tied up at the moment.  A little help, Slayer?”

At the look that crossed his face, he realized that, caught up in the moment as much as he had been, she had forgotten about the chains too.  In a few seconds, she had liberated both his feet and arms, and he lost no time in holding her to him again, kissing her thoroughly, and…

“Sorry to interrupt but… how about we leave before they all come back to their senses?”

At the kid’s slightly shaky voice, both his and Buffy’s eyes shot open, as they remembered where exactly they were, and with whom.  Regretfully, they broke the kiss and the embrace, sharing a smile that was an agreement that they would have time for more later, and took a few steps toward Manon and the still stunned wanker.  There was some sort of relief in the kid’s smile, but it faded as Buffy said quietly:

“Manon, you go ahead and get out of here.  We have some business to finish here first.”

As she said so, her eyes did not stray toward the man on the floor, but Manon’s did, and she shook her head as she stepped between him and the two vamps.

“You finish no one,” she said with a strange mix of determination and fear.  “I’m not letting you kill anybody.  We…  You have Spike back, so let’s just go.”

Amused, Spike looked past her to the man who was slowly rising to his feet.  The look on his face was priceless, as he realized that the only thing that separated him from two angry vampires was a kid.

“Kiddo, as much as I appreciate the help,” Spike said slowly, “you need to leave.  Now.”

She flinched at the tone of his voice, but stood her ground when he took a step toward her.

“You have to kill me first.”

Spike shook his head at her stubbornness, and gave a look at Buffy, to find that she was rolling her eyes at the kid.

“Luv, would you take Manon out while I have a little… chat with our soldier boy friend?”

To his surprise, Buffy didn’t comply, and instead gave him a sulky look.

“Why can’t we do it together?” she protested.

There was no question of what ‘it’ was, and it certainly wasn’t a chat.  And for the first time, Spike realized, he was seriously considering not only allowing Buffy to kill someone, but killing with her.  There was just the slight problem of the Slayer between them and their prey.  And the other problem that said prey was trying to escape.

They didn’t need to talk.  In two steps, he had pulled Manon out of the way and was holding her securely but harmlessly while Buffy had jumped forward and pinned Riley to the wall, her forearm pressed under the man’s jaw.

“Buffy, you promised not to kill him!”  Manon shrieked as she tried to free herself from Spike’s grip.

“And you believed me?”  Buffy replied with a quiet laugh as she turned to look at the kid.  “Who is stupid enough to believe a vampire’s word?”

Spike couldn’t help flinching at her words, and he felt as if she had just slapped him.  So many things, he had promised her.  Did that little sentence mean she had never truly taken his word seriously?  His face must have given his thoughts away, because her eyes widened suddenly and she shook her head.

“I didn’t mean…” she started slowly.

“You promised not to kill that wanker?” he interrupted her.

“She promised not to kill anyone in here”, Manon interjected, still struggling.

With a soft sigh, he let go of the kid, and she stumbled, surprised at the unexpected release.

“You don’t expect me to hold that promise?”  Buffy asked, incredulous.

“Do you expect me to hold mine?” he replied in a whisper.

“One has nothing to do with the other!”

He tilted his head just a little as he watched her.  She wanted to kill the wanker for him, didn’t she?  So why should he protest?  It wasn’t like she had given her word to him, after all.  And yet, he couldn’t stifle this feeling that, if he said nothing now, next time it might be a promise made to him that she wouldn’t respect.

“We are demons, Childe,” he said softly.  “It doesn’t mean we have no honor.”

She shook her head and made as if to protest, but he continued:

“And just because you can’t kill him doesn’t mean he will walk away unpunished.”

She held his gaze for a few seconds, frowning deeply, and finally took a step away from Riley.  Before the man even had the time to bring his hands up to his freed throat, Spike had stepped forward, taking Buffy’s place, his forearm pushing the wanker against he wall.

“I didn’t promise anything,” he told Riley as his hands tried to pushed his forearm away.  “And I could kill you before the kid could even bat an eyelash.”

Breaking eye contact with the wanker, he briefly turned to Manon, and the look he gave her stopped her as she was coming forward.

“I’m not gonna kill you, though,” he said as he returned his full attention to Riley.  “It’s no fun if it’s that quick.  No, you are going to suffer.  For a very, very long time.”

Slowly, he allowed his lips to curl up in a smirk, taking great delight in the fear that leaped tenfold in the human.  As he locked his eyes to Riley’s, he let the demon take over in a way he rarely allowed.  Fists and fangs, these were his weapons of choice.  That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t have any other weapon to use.

“You were curious about the thrall, weren’t you?” he asked pleasantly as Riley’s eyes started glazing over.  “I’m sure this little experience will tell you all you need to know, and even more.  Haven’t enthralled anyone in a while, but I reckon this particular trick can last a few months, at the minimum.  Years, if your mind is too weak to fight back.  But you must be wondering what kind of trick, so let me end the suspense.  This is what is going to happen.  Every night, when you close your eyes and try to fall asleep, you will dream of our sweet Buffy.  You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?  Yes, I thought so.  And I bet you remember all of her soft curves, don’t you?  And the feel of her skin?  So silky.  And her scent?  Yes, I’m sure you remember how enticing her scent is.  But she’s mine, you know.  All mine.  So when you dream of her, I’m afraid you will have to dream of me too.  And of the things she and I do together.  She was still a child when you had her.  She has learned so many things since then, about giving pleasure as well as receiving it.  Many things, some of them you probably would never have thought she would willingly do.  So you will have to dream these things too.  She is so beautiful when she comes.  Not that you gave her many occasions to show you, but I suppose at least once or twice you saw that look of ecstasy on her face.  Now, every night you will see it.  Every night you will see her come with my name on her lips.  I know it will be torture to dream of the woman you adore making love to someone you hate, but you know what?  You will get off on it.  Every night.  Not only that, but even if you shag someone else, you will have to conjure our image to be able to perform.  This is what you get for messing with my Slayer and me.  But if I ever see you again, you will think this was nothing.  And you will beg for death long before I am ready to give it to you.”

Slowly, Spike retracted his arm, and Riley blinked, freeing two tears as he glided down to the ground.  He glanced at his Childe, and almost chuckled at the look of surprised awe on her features as she watched him.  He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles, and she smiled at him.

“Are you done?” an uncomfortable voice asked.  “Can we go now?”

He turned to Manon, and found the kid’s face unnaturally pale.  Without waiting for his answer, she literally fled the room, obviously to escape his gaze.  As he followed, pulling Buffy after him, he wondered whether this small demonstration of what he was capable of would be enough to break the kid’s crush on him.  That might be an unexpected perk of his little revenge.

As they walked away, stepping over slowly awakening soldiers, they could hear Riley behind them, but Spike couldn’t have said if what he was hearing was sobbing or laughter, nor did he care.
 
 

A bright full moon was shining over Sunnydale as two vampires were slowly making their way toward their lair.  Slowly, because every few steps one would pull the other in for a kiss, sometimes just lips brushing together, sometimes a lot more than that.  Buffy was beginning to think that they might not get to the house before it got to be more than kisses and light touching, and she wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea.  After all, it wouldn’t be the first time that they had gotten… creative as far as location was concerned, and she just had no patience left.  She needed his touch, his lips, his words, his blood.  She simply needed him.

They had kept it mostly discreet while Manon was around.  Buffy had given his duster back to Spike, and had slipped her arm under the leather, under his shirt, to lightly caress his back as they walked, delighting in the skin to skin contact.  His own hand was at her waist, his fingers just grazing under her short top, again skin to skin.  Soon, the kid had been off on her way to the Witches’, having refused their offer to walk her back there.  They hadn’t insisted, and darted off in the direction of Revello Drive.  After only a few yards, Spike had pushed Buffy against a convenient wall, and the making out session had started.  It would have gone much further already if they had not tacitly agreed that this needed to be more than a few furtive minutes with the possibility of being interrupted at any moment by someone just walking by.  They needed each other and time.  Nothing more.  Though a bed would have been nice.

Which is why, when they finally reached 1630 Revello Drive, they shared a disappointed look at the sight from the street.  There was a car parked in the driveway.  And not just any car, but Angel’s.  The lights on the second floor were on, as well as those of the living room.  At a window, they could see the unmistakable silhouette of Giles, though he thankfully seemed to be looking to something inside, not out.  They didn’t need to share a word.  They simply clasped each other’s hand, and turned away from their invaded home.

And ran straight into Angel.

The brunette’s eyes widened in the same surprise Buffy felt, and a quick look at Spike’s face showed that he hadn’t expected the encounter either.  But, just as surprisingly, the fire and anger that had prevailed during their last confrontation wasn’t there now.  Angel didn’t look angry or upset either, just worried.

“Are you OK?” the human asked, his gaze obviously taking count of the fading bruises and torn clothing.  “What happened?  Where were you?”

Spike held Buffy’s hand just a little tighter as he answered, and it amused her.  It felt like he was making sure she wouldn’t jump in for a little snack.  Wanting to show him, and the human, that Angel was safe from her, Buffy freed her hand and, stepping closer to her Sire, pressed her body to his, resting her cheek on his shoulder where she could see Angel from the corner of her eye.  Spike’s hands settled at the small of her back, holding her closer as he answered Angel’s questions.

“I’m fine,” he said with a small shake of his head.  “And whatever happened is over now.  No need to brood over it.”

There was a short pause, and Buffy simply observed the two men, curious as to their change in behavior.

“You’re not going in, uh?”  Angel finally asked, gesturing toward the house.

“We don’t care too much for crowds right now”, Spike replied, the smirk very loud in his voice.

Angel chuckled.  “Yeah, I can understand that.  The mansion is yours, if you want it.”

Spike tensed slightly in Buffy’s embrace, and she placed a soothing kiss to his neck.  She had no trouble understanding his reaction, the mansion held a few bad memories for her, too.

“’M not too fond of the place”, he said a bit gruffly.

“I know,” Angel replied quietly.  “But it’s quiet, empty and safe.  And stocked up with O neg.”

Surprised, Buffy turned her head a little to watch the human, wondering why he was doing this.  Spike apparently was just as puzzled, because he voiced the question.

“Don’t know”, Angel answered with a shrug.  “Instinct.  I thought you might want to rest a day or two before taking off.  If you’re still going, that is.”

“Going where?”  Buffy intruded for the first time in the exchange.

Angel’s eyebrow twitched as he looked from her back to Spike.  “You didn’t tell her?”

“Didn’t have time,” Spike replied shortly to the human, before turning his gaze to Buffy.  “We’re leaving Sunnydale, luv.  Going anywhere you want to go.”

Holding on to him a bit tighter, Buffy smiled up at him.  “We are?” she said, delighted, and he gave her a little nod.

She had been going to plead with him again to leave town and get away from the Scoobies, the Slayers, and the Council.  Hearing him propose it first was great, but why had Angel known before she did?  She was about to ask him, when the brunette spoke again.

“Do you know about her soul?”

“What about it?”

Despite the lack of emotion in Spike’s voice and the absence of any reaction as Angel explained to him about Travers, the spell and how to reverse it, Buffy could tell that the news was touching him.  Had he still been hoping, despite his resolve to leave, that she would get her soul back?  Why would he care so much about that?  There was a short silence as Angel finished his explanation, and Buffy pulled slightly away from her Sire to be able to see his eyes.  So much going on behind the blue pools, she wished she knew what he thought exactly.

“You know I don’t want it,” she said quietly.  “I can pretend all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I truly don’t want it back.  So it wouldn’t work.  “

He gave her a smile, a slightly soothing, reassuring smile.  “Yes, Childe, I know.  You don’t have to pretend.”

She pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss, and he caressed her cheek softly.  After all his talk about giving her that stupid soul back, forbidding her to hunt and so on, it was nice to see him accept her just as she was now, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had changed his mind.  She would have thought it was his kidnapping, but apparently he had already made his decision before that, if Angel knowing about it was any proof.

The human reminded them he was there by clearing his throat, and as she half turned to him Buffy saw him pull a thick envelope from his jacket and give it to Spike, who simply nodded as he slipped it, unopened, in his pocket.

“I’ll miss you,” Angel said quietly.  “Both of you.  Try not to run into trouble of the dusty kind.”

“Trouble?”  Spike said in a forced joking tone.  “As if I ever get into trouble!”

Both Buffy and Angel snorted, exchanging an amused glance at their similar reactions.

“Goodbye, Childer.  Take care of each other.”

With a last sad smile, Angel walked by them in the direction of the house, as Spike whispered:

“Goodbye, Sire.”

Buffy’s eyebrow shot up, for even when he was a vampire, Spike had rarely called Angel that, and it sounded even stranger to hear him say it to a human.  They started walking again, in the direction of Crawford Street, and after a minute or so Buffy finally asked:

“Why don’t you just turn him?  You know he wants it.”

Spike shook his head but didn’t slow down his pace.

“No, luv,” he replied absently.  “It’s not to be turned that he wants.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she just let the subject drop.  All she wanted to think about now was her Mate and how to make up for all the lost time.

Buffy woke from her catnap to the delightful feeling of Spike pushing inside her once again.  As she lay on her side, he had moved one of her legs to rest over his, opening her to him as he pressed his body to her back.  One of his arms was trapped by her head, but the other hand was playing over her skin, light as a feather as it traced her leg, hip, stomach, and breast in long motions.  Purring in contentment, she arched into him, accompanying his lazy thrusting.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” he murmured in her hair.

His hand captured hers where it rested on the bed.  Their fingers wove together, and he resumed his caresses, taking her hand for a ride along her skin, before concentrating on her breast.

“Did I sleep long?” she asked, still a bit sleepy.

“About an hour.”

His fingers disentangled from hers as they were stroking her hardened nipples.  His hand lingered over hers, as if to make sure she would continue the caress, before gliding to her waist.  He held on to her hip, using the added leverage to increase the depth of his thrusts, while keeping his pace excruciatingly slow.  Buffy growled deep in her throat, half protest, half plea, and she felt him chuckle as he nibbled on her shoulder.

“Anything you want, luv?”

His voice gave him away, and she couldn’t help smiling knowingly.  He had tried to sound innocent, but there was an edge behind the words that told her he wanted to increase the sensations as much as she did.

Without even answering his teasing, she abandoned her breast to take hold of his hand, and brought it up to her mouth.  She licked his fingers slowly, flicking her tongue in a way that had him growling softly behind her, before lapping down his palm toward his wrist.  As her tongue lightly traced the two scars there, his control wavered and he pushed hard into her, letting out a grunt that accompanied Buffy’s moan.  She repeated the teasing touch to the marks that proclaimed him hers, and he let go of all pretense.

Before Buffy could react, he had pushed her front to the bed then pulled up to her hands and knees, never breaking his accelerating rhythm.  The slow motions from before were completely forgotten as he repeatedly slammed hard into her, both hands gripping her hips tightly enough to leave bruises over the already fading bruises he had left there earlier that night – or was it already the night before?  As the heat of her imminent climax rose in her, Buffy didn’t notice one of his hand sliding over her curls, nor did she realize his other arm was pulling her up against his chest, until his fangs grazed her shoulder just as his fingers gave a rough tweak to her clit.  She screamed her pleasure as he roared his, and they fell forward onto the bed, still intimately joined, both once more panting needlessly.

For what seemed like an eternity, Spike let himself rest over Buffy, trying to regain some control.  When his breathing had finally subsided, he rolled to his side, pulling her with him, so that they were in the same position they had been a few moments before.  His hand rested on her stomach, his thumb gently stroking the underside of her breast.  He resumed his slow, shallow movements, willing himself to make this one last.  They had had time already for hard, fast and screaming.  Now he wanted long, slow and tender.  And by the purring sounds that rose continuously from his Mate’s chest, she didn’t mind, not at all.

As he nuzzled her shoulder and licked the light scrape he had just left there, his mind came back to something that had been bugging him since they had drunk from each other, back in his cell.

“Luv?” he asked quietly.  “You didn’t kill or drink from anyone while I was gone, did you?”

The purring instantly stopped, and he felt her stiffen in his embrace.

“That’s OK if you did,” he added very quickly.  “It’s just… your blood doesn’t taste like you’ve had anything human in a while.  Just wondering why you didn’t go hunting when no one was stopping you anymore.”

She seemed to relax a little, and started rocking her hips against his, just a little, accompanying his movements.  Insatiable.

“I was hunting,” she replied softly.  “Just not for human blood.”

He pressed a kiss to the silk of her skin, thanking her silently for coming for him.

“I really thought you would have killed all the Scoobies by now,” he confided very low.  “Seeing how you were so intent on tasting them.  And the Slayer.”

“They helped,” she admitted in a voice that was slowly becoming ragged.  “Or they tried to, at least.  And the Slayer… she found you for me.  I kinda like her.”

Spike briefly frowned in surprise at the confession.  He hadn’t expected his soulless Childe to have any feeling for a human that would be enough to make her forget the bloodlust.  Maybe she was even less different from his souled Buffy than he had ever thought.  He didn’t press the subject any further, and simply concentrated on giving the maximum pleasure to the beautiful creature he held tight against him.  Despite his resolve to draw this session out as long as possible, his desire for her took over and he was soon pounding into her while she clawed at him.  He lost it when her blunt teeth scrapped over the scars on his wrist, and her body quaked around his shuddering one as he returned the favor and nibbled his mating mark.

A little while later, she had turned around in his arms so that they rested chest to chest, and was drawing light designs over his back with a fingernail.  Contented by the hours spent renewing their intimacy and the simple feel of her in his arms, Spike was slowly falling asleep when he heard her say, as if the conversation had never been interrupted.

“I like her enough to let her live.  But the other Slayer is a bitch.  Think we can eat her before we leave Sunnydale?”
 

By the time Angel entered the Summers’ home after his impromptu meeting with the vampires, Willow had already called, relating to Giles and the two teens what Manon had reluctantly, it seemed, reported about the events of the night.

Spike had been held by soldiers.  Their chief was Buffy’s ex.  Manon and Buffy had freed him without bloodshed.  End of the story as far as the Slayer was concerned.

At Giles request, Willow managed to extract from her the location of the commandos’ base, and the Watcher had been pondering going there for a little chat when Angel came back.  As Giles commented that the vamps should have been back by then, something on Angel’s face must have given his thoughts away, because Giles looked at him curiously, and demanded an explanation.

“Don’t tell me you expected Buffy to want her soul back”, Angel replied tiredly, happy that Dawn and Steven weren’t in the room.  “They’re going to leave.”

The Watcher took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a quiet sigh.

“No,” he admitted in a murmur.  “I did not expect it.  I hoped she would want it, but I didn’t really believe she would.”

There was a pause, and Giles sought Angel’s eyes.

“Are they gone yet?” he asked, a little hesitant.  “I wish I had told her goodbye.  Told them.”

“I’m not sure,” Angel replied truthfully.  “But I doubt they will be back.  I’m sorry.”

Giles had a small smile.  “At least we know he’ll take care of her,” he said quietly, before adding with more force: “I’m in the perfect mood for scaring the hell out of Riley Finn and whoever works with him.  Are you in?”

Despite himself, Angel felt an evil grin tugging at his lips.  He had never had much sympathy for the soldier, and even less now that he had been discovered hurting his Childe.

“What do you have in mind, Ripper?”

A towel draped around his hips after a quick shower, Spike made his way through the mansion and toward the kitchen, leaving Buffy’s side for the first time since she had rescued him two nights before.  They had come out of the bedroom to feed a couple of times already, but always together, he and his Childe.  His Slayer.  His hero.  His lips curled up at the thought and he startled humming softly.  Unlife was good.  Rarely been better, actually.  Except for that pesky, nagging little thought he just had trouble ignoring.  Just a broken word, he would live through it.  It wasn’t like she was complaining anyway.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he frowned at the unexpected sight that greeted him.  A black duster was draped on the back of a chair – Buffy’s, he realized.  At the foot of the same chair, two travel bags.  On the table, his car keys, a cell phone, and a piece of paper, folded in half, with his name in a familiar handwriting.  He picked it up with a slight shake of the head, and started reading.

“I thought you might need your car, it’s parked in front of the garage.  Thought you could use some clothing, too.  I told the gang about your departure.  They’re taking the news rather well, all things considered.  Steven isn’t, though.  You know him.  I’m afraid he takes your leaving as a personal betrayal.  I tried to explain, but he’s even more stubborn than you and I combined.  The Scoobies would like to say their goodbyes, if you think Buffy is up to it.  They’ll miss you, too, you know.  Andrea Travers brought back Buffy’s soul.  It’s shiny, vibrant, and beautiful.  Just like her.  I wish you could see it. Give us a call if you decide to stop by.”

It wasn’t even signed, and for some reason that upset Spike as much as the content of the note.  Steven’s reaction wasn’t unexpected, and Spike felt sorry about losing the only brother he had ever had.  Just a few days before he had been about to ask the teen to be his best man for the wedding.  He doubted the kid would even want to talk to him now.  And it wasn’t like they would get married anyway, normal vampires didn’t care about such things.

The fact that the Scoobies were accepting the news was, on the contrary, surprising.  He would have bet his unlife that they would be the first to come after Buffy to prevent her from doing harm.  And yet, it seemed like they wouldn’t.  They had seen her die too many times, he supposed.

And Angel was just a wanker.  He had to leave a note, hadn’t he?  He had to talk about the receptacle of Buffy’s soul being back in Sunnyhell.  He couldn’t just let the matter alone.  Bloody poof. He knew Spike too well.

Leaving the note on the table, Spike pulled out two blood bags from the fridge.  There were only two left after that.  They would need to get on the move soon.  Tonight.  There was no point in waiting any longer.  Except… he had to try.  He just had to.  Then he would be able to tell himself that he had done everything he could.

He poured the content of the bags into two mugs and warmed them in the microwave, staring at them as they revolved slowly behind the door.  If someone had ever told him he would get used to feeding from bagged blood and find it almost convenient...

The blood now warm, he took the two mugs to the bedroom.  Not the master bedroom, he wouldn’t set foot in there for anything, and he very consciously avoided even looking at the closed door.  Not even the large room next to it, that had been his, once, long ago, and in which he had spent very lonely hours stuck in a wheel chair.  No, the room they had chosen was a door farther, smaller than the others, with a double bed instead of a king sized one, but they hadn’t minded so far.  As in all the rooms, there were heavy drapes over the window, completely blocking out all sunlight.  They had found a couple of pillar candles, however, and they provided more than enough light.

He walked in quietly, only to find Buffy stretched out on the bed, gloriously naked, the barest smile fluttering on her lips.  Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep.  He doubted either of them would be able to fall asleep without the other holding them for some time.

He sat down with his back to the headboard, and immediately she turned to her side and crawled up his body, until her head was resting against his chest.  He gave her one of the mugs, and sipped on his own, the simple contact of her skin on his as delightful as the warm blood sliding down his throat.  He drank slowly, his free hand playing mindlessly in her tangled hair.  Idly, he wondered if Angel had thought of putting her brush in the travel bag.

“What are you thinking, baby?” she asked him softly after they had both discarded the emptied mugs.

Her cheek was still on his chest, and she was drawing light patterns on his front, surprisingly leaving the towel at his waist alone.

“We’ll leave tonight.”

She shot up a wide grin at him, but it faded when he added:

“I’d like to stop by the Magic Box.  Say our farewell to the Scoobies.  Is that alright?”

Her mouth twisted for a brief second, before she returned to her resting place on his chest.

“Whatever you want,” she replied with a light shrug.  “Where will we be going?”

He suppressed the sigh that was rising in his throat.  “Anywhere you want to go, Princess.  We have passports and money, your wishes are my command.”

He realized, just an instant too late, what he had called her, and steeled himself for her reaction.  It was just that, sometimes, lately, she reminded him of Dru, minus the insane ramblings.  She pulled away from him and sat up, observing him with an unreadable expression.  When she talked, it was nothing he had expected.

“We have passports?” she repeated his statement.  “And money?”

Nodding, he gestured to his duster on the floor, and she got out of bed to pick it up.  She found the envelope quickly, and opened it as she sat back next to him.  She pulled out two passports and several straps of fifty-dollar bills.  She let out a little whistling sound at the sight of the money.

“Ten thousand dollars?” she exclaimed after she had quickly counted.  “Why would he give us all that?”

“Because he is my Sire and your Grand-Sire, luv.  Family.”

She raised a perplexed eyebrow, but did not voice her question, instead turning her attention to the passports.  She opened the first one, the American one, and read the name out loud:

“Elisabeth Angela Winters.“

She chuckled softly and shook her head, and Spike couldn’t help smiling wryly.

“Peaches has quite a sense of humor, uh?”

“Lets see what he got for you,” she replied as she opened the second passport, the one that was branded with Great Britain’s symbol and name.

Spike glanced at the booklet as she laughed, and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

“God, what a ponce,” he muttered.

“William Connor Winters,” Buffy read with a stifled giggle.

“I swear,” Spike said gruffly, “just for that, I should have let that wanker bleed to death.”

Still laughing softly, Buffy put the money and passport back in the envelope and settled back against him, holding him as she made a quiet purring sound.  For a little while, they just enjoyed each other’s presence, but the same thought as earlier was still annoying Spike, amplified now by Angel’s note.  In the end, he decided to just ask her and be done with the brooding.  Either she would refuse and he would never think of it again, or she would accept, and they would see what happened then.

“Luv…  Can I ask you something?”

She tightened her hold on him for just a second, and breathed a quiet “Anything, Sire”.

“Do you remember the night I turned you?”

He felt her smile against his skin, and she shifted to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Yes, I remember,” she replied in a whisper.

Unwittingly, Spike closed his eyes, and images flooded his mind.  She had pleaded for him not to do it, had begged, cried.  And accused him of stealing more than life from her.

“You were afraid,” he said with a voice that was slightly trembling.  “Not afraid to die though.  You had accepted your own death, even if we couldn’t.  Afraid that I would damn you, and that you’d never see Heaven again.  Remember that?”

“I remember that too.”

Her voice was puzzled, now, as she obviously wondered where this conversation was going.  He opened his eyes to see her looking at him, seemingly troubled by his words.  Oh, yes, she remembered.  She didn’t only remember that night.  She remembered Heaven too, he was sure of it.  She had that odd look on her face, the same as when she had confided in him, trusting him for the first time with a secret she couldn’t share with her chums.

“Remembered what I said then?” he asked, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

There was a pause, just a couple of seconds, which seemed to stretch forever for Spike as he waited for her to speak.

“You said… you said I would go back there some day.”

He nodded slowly.  “I more than said it, luv.  It was a promise, in spirit if not in words.  And you know how I feel about my promises.”

She frowned just a little, and he smiled sadly.  She had realized what his point was.

“Spike”, she started, but he interrupted her with a finger across her lips.

“Do you still want it, luv?” he managed to ask despite his tight throat. “Do you still want to go back to Heaven some day?”
 

An unusual silence had fallen on the Magic Box with the sunset.  The Scoobies were all there, including their newest members, Andrea and Manon, and the two LA delegates, Angel and his son.  Earlier, there had been discussions, in which Giles had not really taken part.  He had heard them, but it had all seemed so irrelevant that he couldn’t make himself care even when he knew he should have said something.  All he knew, right now, was that they were about to lose Buffy one last time.  And that was more than he wanted to know.

“I want you to go patrol with Chloe, tonight,” Andrea told Manon.  “I’m sure you two will do wonders by working together.”

“No.”

Andrea’s surprise at the quiet refusal of her Slayer was almost comical.  Just almost.

“What do you mean, no?  This is not a choice I’m giving you.  It’s an order.”

“And who said I had to listen to you?  All you’ve done since I’ve known you is put me in situations that get me hurt.  I’m tired of getting hurt.  I want to go back home.”

That was where Giles would have intervened, if he had been able to make himself feel concerned.  Andrea had come back from England late the previous night, more touched than she would admit by what had happened there.  He had tried to make her talk about it, but he hadn’t gotten more than a repeat of what she had said on the phone.  The Watchers, her included, had been to her father’s home in Seaford.  They had found the globe that held Buffy’s soul.  They had also found Quentin Travers.  Lying, fully clothed, on his bed.  Dead, from nothing more than exhaustion, the first reports said. Dead for several days.  Apparently, the spell had taken more of his forces than he could afford to give.

“You’re not going home,” Andrea replied quietly, her contained anger too obvious in the twitching of a muscle in her jaw.  “You have responsibilities.  We all do, but yours are even more important that most.  You’re the Slayer and you were…”

“Non,” Manon interrupted blankly. “I’m not the Slayer.  I am a Slayer.  I’ve done my part, helped saved the world, even died.  Chloe is more than willing to take over here.  I want to go back home.  There are vamps to kill in France, too.”

For a moment, Andrea scrutinized Manon’s face, as if searching for what the teen wasn’t saying.

“I know a lot has happened in just a few weeks,” she said at last, more calmly than before.  “But you can’t give up so easily.  I can’t let you give up.  The world needs you and…”

“And I need to be away from Sunnyhell”, Manon pleaded, and by the tone of her voice the tears weren’t very far.  “I’ll fight whatever you want me to fight.  But not here.  Anywhere but here.”

It was a bit strange to hear Spike’s pet name for the town from the girl’s mouth, and Giles stopped paying attention to the discussion.  Neither woman was yielding, and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon.  Manon wasn’t his Slayer and it wasn’t his fight.

True to her words, Manon had refused to leave with Chloe and her Watcher for patrol.  She was now sitting on the mezzanine, forehead pressed to one of the banisters, legs dangling over the edge.  Waiting, like the rest of them.  As Giles glanced at her, he noticed, not for the first time, how miserable she looked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong.  Maybe they had been too fast in sending her to the frontlines again.  He remembered how Buffy had reacted, the months after her first death, and promised himself he’d talk to Andrea.  Surely, they didn’t need two Slayers standing guard over the Hellmouth just after an averted apocalypse.  It wasn’t his decision to make, but he didn’t see anything wrong in sending the kid to dust French vamps if that was what she wanted.

Once more, Giles’ gaze returned to his watch.  It was completely useless, of course, since he had no idea at what time the vamps were going to arrive.  Spike had only said they would come by that evening, just for a moment, before heading off to an unknown destination.  And that was what they were all waiting for.  To see for one last time a young lady – no, a vampire – who had made it clear she would happily eat them all if the occasion was given to her, and a vampire – no, a man – who wouldn’t let anything happen to any of them, but who had given up keeping other humans safe from her.  Would Spike start feeding again now, since it was clear he would allow her to?  Not that long ago, his soul had been torturing him with guilt over the thousands of people he had killed, and he had been intent on making up for his past.  Could he really have forgotten all that, already?  Giles could only guess how hard it was for Spike to have to control Buffy when he knew firsthand what it was like not to be able to feed properly.  And yet, he couldn’t help this slight feeling of disappointment that Spike was renouncing his redemption.  Slightly disappointed, also, that Buffy apparently had no desire to control herself.  He had had high hopes, when she had talked to him, when she had made the bargain with the Council.  Spike didn’t have a soul, he could hurt people, but he chose not too, so why couldn’t she do the same?  He understood, now, that it was her worry over Spike that had restrained her, nothing else.  They all understood that.

“It’s weird.”

Xander’s soft murmur gathered no reply for a moment, almost as if no one had heard.  He was sitting at the research table, Anya seemingly asleep as she rested against his chest.  Willow on his left, Tara next to her, Dawn and Steven on his right, Giles opposite him with Andrea at his side.  No place at the table for Angel, who was silently brooding where he sat on the counter.

“What is weird?”  Willow finally inquired, just as quietly.

“This.  Us.  Waiting for vampires to come by.  Does anyone even have a stake?”

Sharp looks were suddenly directed at the young man, who raised a hand in an appeasing gesture.

“My point, exactly,” he said with a sigh.  “We know two vamps are on their way here, we know as soon as they’re gone they will be feeding and killing, and yet none of us, me included, wants to stop them.  It’s just weird.”

Again, a deep, ominous silence fell on the room.  It was eventually broken by Dawn, who said in a trembling voice:

“If it wasn’t for her, for them, none of us would be here today.  The world would just be gone.”

“There are more vampires than all of us together could ever dust,” Tara added, a mere whisper.  “Does it change anything if we let two of them go?”

No one answered, but the collective reply was clear.  No.  Two more vampires, or two less, it wouldn’t change much on a large scale.  Of course, people would die because they were letting them go.  But as Dawn had said, everybody on the planet would have died long ago without Buffy.  And…

“I couldn’t kill her.  Not after everything we’ve been through together.  Even if she attacked us, I would find a way to stop her, but I just couldn’t…”

Willow’s voice, as she explained exactly what Giles felt, trailed off as a stake was suddenly deposited on the table.  All eyes converged on Steven, whose hand was still clutching the piece of wood.

“If she attacks,” he declared coldly, “nothing will stop her except for Spike or a stake.  And if Spike… if he doesn’t stop her, we won’t have much of a choice.”

There were quiet murmurs but no one openly contradicted the teen.  He was right, they knew it, even if they hated that he was, even if he obviously hated having said it.

“Put that away,” Angel growled from his perch on the counter.  “The last thing we need is to antagonize her.  Spike won’t let her harm any of us, and you know it.”

The teen’s back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around to look at his father as he made the stake disappear up his sleeve.

They hadn’t moved much in the last twenty minutes or so.  They hadn’t talked.  They just waited for closure to be given to them.  And finally, their patience was rewarded.  The doorbell chimed, and Giles, like all the others, suddenly sat straighter and turned to watch as two blondes clad in black leather entered the shop, hand in hand.

The ride to the Magic Box was done in silence.  They hadn’t talked much since the afternoon, actually.  Not since Spike had asked her the question.  Did she want to go back to Heaven?  What kind of question was that, anyway?  Buffy had thought he was finally ready to be a vampire, a real one, with her, he had said they were leaving, had hinted they would do whatever she pleased now, and then that.  The question.  Just a few words that had clouded everything.  That had her wondering if he ever would completely accept her without her soul, or if he was just taking whatever she was now because he couldn’t have what she had been before anymore.

“Am I not enough for you?”

She finally let out the words that had been bugging her for hours just as he was stopping the car in front of the store.  He turned to her, his face a study in shadows as the light from behind the blacked out windows was barely enough for her to see his surprise.

“Not enough?” he repeated, incredulous.  “You are all I have.  All I need.  All I want.  Why would you ever think you’re not enough?”

His hand rose to cup her face and pull her toward him until their foreheads touched.

“You still want me to get that damn soul back,” she replied in a murmur.  “If I was enough for you, you wouldn’t have asked…”

A finger on her lips stopped her.

“Luv…  You’re still my Buffy.  Whatever or whoever you eat, you still have the same fire in you, the same strength, the same passion I fell in love with.”

His lips brushed against hers, with no more pressure than a shadow.

“Then why?”  Buffy sighed against his skin.

“Because you are the same.  Because, to the exception of valuing human life, you think the same.  And if you do, some part of you must still want Heaven.  I don’t want to wonder for all the time we have in front of us whether I could have done something more to give you what you want when it’s all over.”

“We are immortal,” Buffy protested weakly.  “So why worry about that?”

He let out a small, dry chuckle.

“You do realize that the thousands of vamps you dusted in the last ten years were all just as immortal as you are now, right luv?”

She couldn’t help pouting at his words, and he captured her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling softly for a few seconds.

“You don’t have to come in,” he said when he let go at last.  “If you don’t want to, just stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I said I would try and touch it for you, didn’t I?” she replied with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t do it for me.  Do it for yourself, luv, or not at all.”

She nodded, and leaned in again for a kiss.  Just lips at first, soft and caressing, until her tongue requested access to his mouth.  Softness became urgency, then, and the caresses turned into hunger as their tongues danced against each other.  When he pulled away, she moaned quietly in protest, before catching her breath and following him out of the car.  He grabbed her hand just before they entered, and she stepped inside after him, repressing a sigh as she saw the whole gang there, waiting for them.  She couldn’t wait to just be done with it and on their way out of town.
 

As they walked into the store, Spike could feel Buffy’s hold on his hand tighten just a little, and he glanced at her.  She looked awfully nervous, very far from her behavior the last time they had been around this particular bunch of humans together.  And to tell the truth, he was nervous, too.  Maybe it would have been better if they had just gone away without seeing the gang again.  Not that he was afraid they would try to stop them – if they had wanted to do that, they would have just come to the mansion, not asked for Buffy and Spike to meet them before going away.

But if they had just left, he would never have had his last try.  He didn’t know whether it would work, he strongly suspected it wouldn’t, but he owed it to himself, and to her, to take this last chance.

As they came farther into the store, Spike forced himself to meet the eyes of the people at the table.  Travers, he ignored, still transferring to her his anger about what he now knew was her father’s fault.  Giles, he gave a small nod to, receiving the same in return.  The man had confirmed over the phone that the Council wouldn’t hunt them as long as they didn’t hunt slayers.  His gaze and smile then glided over the Witches.  He would miss them, Tara, especially, who had always been nice to him.  Harris and demon-girl.  He tried to tell himself he would be glad to be rid of the Whelp, but he was still as close to a human friend as he had ever had.  Manon, up there above the table, her face unreadable.  Steven.  Hard stare, deep frown, obviously ready to attack at the smallest sign of hostility.  The boy’s opinion about demons had changed over the years, but threats to his father’s and girlfriend’s lives seemed to have returned it back to what it had once been.  He smiled at him sadly, and the kid’s frown wavered.  Dawn, finally.  She tried a tentative smile toward both Buffy and him, and it was all he could do not to sigh.

“So,” he said with his best cocky smirk, trying to hide his emotions.  “We’re here.  Don’t have all bloody night, either, so let’s…”

He stopped as Buffy let go of his hand and looked at her, alarmed, as she walked toward the counter.  For a second, he thought she was going to Angel, and by the startled look on the ex-vampire’s face he wasn’t the only one thinking so.  She didn’t even glance at him, though.  She walked around the counter, and entered the office.  Spike followed quickly, wondering what in hell she was doing now, and came in the small room just as she was opening the lid of a wooden box that was on the desk.  At the small, wavering light that was coming out of the box, he understood what was in it, and stepped right behind Buffy to look at it over her shoulder.  Warily, she reached in with both hands and pulled the glass orb out, settling it on the desk.  There seemed to be flames dancing inside it, bright, colorful, always in movement.  It was smaller than his closed fist, but he could have sworn he could feel warmth radiating from it, and its gentle light filled the room.  He could have watched it for hours, and just knowing it was his Slayer’s soul in there made the beauty of it even greater.

And then he realized.  She had touched it.  Nothing had happened.  She had noticed too, because she said:

“OK.  I tried.  Didn’t work.  Can we go now?”

She started to move away from the table, but he wrapped both arms around her and held her in place where she was, just in front of the shimmering light that used to be hers.

“Do you remember Heaven, luv?” he asked quietly, his lips just brushing against her ear as he talked.

“Spike, please don’t…”

“Never been there myself”, he continued just as softly.  “But I remember you talking about it.  I remember feeling privileged just hearing you talk about it.  Do you remember what you said, luv?”

She shook her head lightly, but he was sure she did remember.  She was just afraid, he reckoned.  What sane vampire wouldn’t be afraid to get their soul back?  He laced his fingers with hers and held her a bit tighter, trying to impress on her mind that she had nothing to be afraid about.

“You said…”

His voice broke at the bittersweet memory.  Privileged that she had confided in him, yes, but heartbroken about the loss in her eyes and voice, and that awful feeling of not being able to do anything for her…

“You said”, he managed to force the words out, “that you had been happy, there.  Warm.  Loved.  Complete.  No more fears.  No more doubts.  No more pain.”

Again, she shook her head.  “I feel all that now,” she whispered.  “You make me feel it.”

“And how did you feel when the wankers took me away?  What if they had killed me?  What if it happened again?”

She was trembling in his arms now.

“I don’t want Heaven,” she said after a few seconds.  “Not without you.  I don’t…”

“Luv…  I’m not letting you go anywhere without me, you know that, right?  Even if takes me a thousand years, I’ll earn my entry ticket.  Just to be with you.  And if it’s still not enough, I’ll make so much fuss they will have to let me in anyway.”

He had tried to put a little humor in his voice, and she seemed to relax just a touch.

“I love you,” he whispered against her hair.  “I’ll always love you.  Soul or no soul.  And I want the best for you.  I want you warm and loved and happy for all eternity.  You want it too, don’t you?”

Long seconds passed, and finally Buffy nodded, just barely.  Their fingers still entwined, he pulled her hand away from where he was holding it at her waist.  She finished the gesture and touched the sphere again.

At the instant Buffy’s fingers brushed against the glass, it shattered.

Immediately, the light and flames that had been burning inside grew larger, brighter now that they were free, and Buffy’s eyes widened as they suddenly all plunged into her.  She tried to ward them off with her hands, freeing them from Spike’s hold, but it was useless.  It didn’t hurt, but it definitely felt very unpleasant, and she was sure that, without Spike’s arms around her, she would have fallen to her knees.  As it was, the lights had all disappeared, but she was still panting, trying to catch a breath she had no use for, unable to understand what had just happened.

Gently, Spike turned her in his embrace until she was facing him.  Still supporting her with one arm, he brought his other hand to her face, and she realized, when his fingers brushed them away, that tears had rolled down her cheeks.

“Buffy, luv”, he murmured, his voice choked up.  “Are you alright?”

Still unable to talk, she nodded, just barely, and rested her cheek against his shoulder, trying to calm both her breathing and thoughts.  That was when she saw them.  They were standing just outside the door, looking in at her and Spike with a mix of curiosity, worry, and hope.

Her friends.

No, not her friends.  They had ceased to be just her friends long ago.  They had become more.  Her family.

And in a flash, it all came back to her.  What she had done to Angel.  What she had tried to do to Dawn.  What she had planned on doing to the others.

She shut her eyes tight, blocking out their sight, but the memories were there, insistent, unavoidable, and all too clear.

The memory of her first bite of a human.  Not just anyone, too, but Angel.  His light gasp when she had sunk her teeth into his flesh.  The music of his heartbeat in her ears, so strong she could almost believe it was her own.  And his blood… the taste, the richness, the power, the warmth.

The memory of deciding that, unlike Angel, Dawn wasn’t worth being turned.  The fear, so intoxicating, so delicious, of her sister when she had thought she was about to die.

The memory of wanting to turn Steven, until her Sire had asked her not to hurt anyone who shared their blood.

The memory of being angry with the Scoobies, so angry because of how badly they had treated Spike for so long, so angry because they called themselves her friends and yet had been judging her and her choices all these years, without ever caring that their disapproval hurt her so much.  The planning she had done, about in what order she would kill them, and how.  The taunting she had reverted to when she couldn’t touch them.

The memory of wanting to kill Manon for no other reason than that she was a Slayer.  If Slayer blood was really better than human blood as Spike had once said, she had not been going to let the chance escape her to sample it.

The memory of sinking her fangs in another, nameless, human’s throat.  And that intense feeling of frustration when Spike had stopped her once again.

The memory of their plans.  To travel the world, and sample local foods.

She was suffocating.  She didn’t need to breathe, and yet she felt like something was pressing on her chest and preventing her from breathing.  In an effort to start feeling better, she pulled herself out of Spike’s tight embrace, and regretted it immediately.  Without the comfort of his arms, she felt even worse.  Still choking on dry sobs, she opened her eyes, and it hurt to see the pain on her Sire’s face just in front of her.  Pain that she had pulled away from him.  Pain that she had refused his comfort.  She was about to step back in the protective circle of his arms when a murmur caught her attention.

“Buffy?”

She had never heard Dawn sound that hopeful.  Or maybe she had, just once.  At the top of Glory’s tower.  When they had brought her back to life.  Unwittingly, she turned to her sister and the rest of the gang, who still hadn’t moved.  So much expectation on all of their faces.  And for who?  Someone who was ready to turn on all of them at the first occasion.

“I’m sorry”, she managed to croak in a too dry voice.  “So very sorry…”

It was worse, then, because they smiled at her, as if they were now sure it was their friend in front of them, and not the other.  Not the monster.  Not the soulless beast they had tolerated because it wore her face.

The smiles were just too much.  She looked around her, frantic, looking for a way out while she knew the only escape ran through these people who were still smiling, and why in hell couldn’t they stop smiling?  Didn’t they understand what she had almost done?  What she had wanted to do?

“Give her some space now, people.  Move back.  All of you.  Please.”

Spike’s voice startled her, and she looked at him, briefly, just as he was reaching tentatively toward her.  She couldn’t hold his gaze.  Because he had prevented her from killing anyone while he was just as soulless as she had been.  Because he had allowed her to feed, once.  Because he had all but been ready to give up on his redemption, for her.  Because he had to be so disappointed that she had proved to be so weak.

The humans had followed his request and moved back toward the table, she realized.  The path was free.  So she did the only thing that was left for her to do.  She ran.
 

Buffy was running.

Behind her, Spike followed.  Not trying to catch up with her, just keeping her in sight.  Because she probably needed time to calm down before he could try to talk to her.  And because he didn’t have the slightest idea of what he would tell her when he did catch her.

For a moment, right after her soul had returned, he had thought everything would be alright.  She had been in his arms, her frantic breathing subsiding, and he had truly believed they were going to get through this, if not easily, then at least together.  He had wanted very hard to believe it.

But then, she had pulled away from him, and her panic, her horror, had leapt tenfold.  She hadn’t even been able to look at him without flinching.  And he knew why, of course.  She had to be horrified that he had let her drink from that thug, if not let her kill him.  Appalled that he had been ready to take her away and kill with her.  But what other solution would he have had, if she hadn’t regained her soul?  What else could he have done?  She had to understand that.

They must have been quite a sight.  Two people running through Sunnyhell, black dusters flowing behind them, as if trying to escape the devil himself.  But the citizens of the cursed town knew better than to be too interested in unusual looking things.

She was slowing down now, probably getting tired from running too long.  He winced when he saw her stumble and fall to her knees on the ground, the fall thankfully cushioned by soft grass.  Slowing down until he was walking, Spike looked around him, recognizing the place.  He was still a couple hundred yards away, hesitating about going to her yet, when she picked herself up and took in her surroundings, as if she hadn’t realized where her steps had taken her.  She must have recognized the place too, because, to his surprise, she walked the few yards to the front of the church and, pushing the heavy door open, slipped inside.

Even after she had disappeared, his eyes remained on the wooden door, but it wasn’t the door he was seeing, it wasn’t the soft sounds of the night he was hearing.  When he pulled out his fags and lighter, his hands were shaking.

Three weeks before – only three weeks?  Hell, it felt like centuries – Spike had been the one running aimlessly into the night, chased by Buffy.  Or rather, not Spike.  William.  Not that the difference was that big anymore.  He had just missed killing a human, then.  An accident, nothing more.  But it had broken down all the walls and defenses he had hastily put up to protect himself from his newly returned soul and the voices and guilt that had assaulted him.  Running away from the monster he had been, he had ended in the one place monsters were reluctant to enter.  A church.  This very same church Buffy had just entered.

As the scene that had taken place in there replayed in his mind, Spike’s eyes widened in fear.  Flicking away the half smoked cigarette, he rushed to the door.  When he had been there before, out of his mind, he had tried to make the mental pain go away by finding some physical one.  It hadn’t worked, because crosses didn’t burn humans.  But now, they weren’t humans any longer.  She wouldn’t try to hurt herself, would she?  The simple thought that she could was suffocating him.

“Shouldn’t we go after them?”

Dawn’s murmured question was the first sound in the Magic Box after both vampires had run off into the night.  Angel looked at her, and at the rest of the Scoobies, finding the same look on all their faces.  Relief, and worry.  Relief that Buffy had regained her soul.  Worry that her reaction had been to run away from them.

“Give her time,” he replied to the girl.  “Let her come to you, when she’s ready.  If you try to force things now it will just make it more difficult for everyone.”

Surprisingly, Dawn didn’t scoff at his advice, and just nodded thoughtfully.

“I doubt they’ll be back here tonight”, Giles voiced, his tone clearly shaken.

The Watcher gave a questioning glance at Angel then, as if asking what he thought.  It was obvious why they thought he might be qualified to know what Buffy felt like right now, but in truth, he didn’t know that much more than they did.  Different circumstances, different people, different ways of losing and regaining their souls.

“Probably not”, he answered nonetheless.  “We should all just go home.  Wait for Buffy to come to grips with what happened.”

“But we can’t leave her alone!”  Willow protested.

Before Angel could reply to that, Manon had said the exact same thing he was thinking.

“She’s not alone.”

There was little discussion after that, and soon they were all out of the shop and separating, each to their own destination.  Angel watched them all go, acutely aware, as they walked in pairs or more, of his own solitude.

He made his way toward the mansion without haste, for there was nothing, no one waiting for him there.  He couldn’t help looking around as he walked, wondering where Buffy and Spike were, and whether they were OK.  Without even realizing what he was doing, he fingered the healed scars on his neck.  Buffy had to be alright.  As far as he knew, she hadn’t killed anyone, so her soul shouldn’t bring forth too much guilt.  Hopefully, it wouldn’t.

It was with a sigh that he entered the mansion, already regretting not to have simply left town and gone back to LA.  It wasn’t like his presence was needed here anyway.  Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the woman – no, the angel – rising from her seat on the sofa until she spoke.

“Hey, Broodboy.  Missed me?”

The door creaked a little, startling Buffy out of her thoughts.  She knew it was her Sire coming in, she could feel him, had been able to feel his presence ever since she ran out of the store.  However, lost in her own world, she had almost forgotten he was just outside, until he came in.

She had been replaying in her mind the events of the last few days, starting with her almost draining Angel, and ending with the visit at the Magic Box, where something had been pulling her to the office, toward her soul.  And she couldn’t help the feeling that it was unfair that she could remember so well.  When Willow had re-cursed Angel, he hadn’t had the memories of what he had done as Angelus.  Why couldn’t it be the same for her?  It wouldn’t have hurt so much, then.

In silence, Spike walked to her and took a seat on the bench by her side.  She didn’t dare look at him, afraid to discover in his so expressive eyes and face what he thought of her.  Hesitantly, he reached out to her hand that was gripping the edge of the bench and covered it with his.  She let out a silent sigh at the soft touch.

“Talk to me, luv?” he asked quietly.

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she shook her head.

“Tell you what?”

“Anything.  Why are you in here?”

Good question, really.  Why was she, again?  What was a vampire, even a souled one, doing in a place of worship, in the proximity of holy water and crosses?

“I don’t know,” she said with the ghost of a shrug.  “I was just tired of running.”

“OK.  Why were you running, then?”

She almost wanted to roll her eyes at him and ask him if he had been around for the last few days or not.  But the words never made their way out of her throat, and instead she mumbled:

“They were smiling at me.  I tried or wanted to kill them, and they were smiling like nothing had happened.”

“Did you kill them?”

She received the question like a slap, and instantly turned to look at Spike, aware that her eyes must have been flashing gold.  In return, he watched her very calmly, almost impassively.

“You didn’t kill them”, he answered his own question.  “You didn’t kill anyone.  You thought about it, but in the end, when it was them and you and no more orders to restrain you…  You.  Still.  Did. Not.  Kill.  Anyone.”

The cool mask flickered, and there was fire in his gaze.  Warmth.

“You proved that you can be stronger than the demon,” he continued slowly.  “You’re barely more than a fledgling, and you controlled the bloodlust and did not kill a single human being when you had many opportunities.  Do you have any idea how strong that makes you?”

It would have been easy to give in, and just accept his soothing words, especially when he was looking at her with such conviction in his eyes.  She had been afraid he would think less of her for her lack of control, and all he gave her was barely hidden pride.  But she still couldn’t forget.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” she admitted reluctantly.  “But I almost drained Angel.  And that guy.  And we were going to leave and…”

Fingers on her lips shushed her.

“Don’t you start feeling guilty about what could have happened,” he said sternly.  “If anyone is to blame about that, it’s me for agreeing to it.  And the Poof for helping.  And all the Scoobies for not trying to stop us.  As for biting…  You’re a vampire, luv.  And as someone told me not that long ago, a tiger hunts to feed, so did you, and we can blame neither.”

The faintest smile tugged at her lips.  Appropriate, that he would give her back words she had offered him when he was the one hurting because of his soul.  She almost protested when his hand let go of hers, but immediately his arm was around her, pulling her closer to him, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault if your shiny soul went off wandering, luv,” he murmured against her forehead.  “And even if it wasn’t pretty every day, in the end, it could have been much, much worse than you taking a couple of bites and scaring the Scoobies with a few well chosen words.”

Closing her eyes, she nodded lightly.  She didn’t feel any less guilty about what she had done or wanted to do, but he was right, it could have been a lot worse.  She shuddered at the thought, and he held her just a little tighter.

“They love you, you know,” he said quietly after a few seconds.  “I’m sure they have forgiven you already.  And I bet at this moment they’re worried about you as if nothing had happened.”

And yet, a lot had happened, she thought silently.  Even if they forgave her already, she would need to apologize.  The sooner, the better.  Maybe not tonight, though.  She needed a little more time to collect her thoughts.

For a long moment, they remained huddled in the dark church, until Buffy needed to let out the thought that was bothering her.

“Spike?  Why did you…  I mean, I understand why you stopped me from killing people, you said you didn’t want me to hurt when I got my soul back, and I can’t thank you enough for it.”

She hesitated then, and he prompted her to continue.

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“The thief you let me bite?  The passports?” she said quietly.  “You had given up on keeping me kill-free.  Organized everything for us to go away.  And then you take me to the shop and make me want my soul again.  Why?”

There was a long pause, and Buffy was almost tempted to look up at her Sire’s face and try to guess what he was thinking.  But she did not move, and simply gave him the time he needed.

“Before the wankers took me,” he said at last, “I had given up hope you would get your soul back.  Red wasn’t finding anything, the Council was on its way, and I was sure they would try to hurt you.  I couldn’t lose you, luv.  I would have done anything to keep you, even soulless, because it was still you.  . A different you but still you.  Anything except control you.  I love your fire, your strength.  Dominating you every day, every second...  Better let you kill than play that game.”

She winced a little as he talked, all too aware that, as Spike had pointed it out before, her soulless self was very similar to her souled one.  Except for that little detail that was the guilt, or lack thereof, over killing anything human.

“And then,” Spike continued after pausing for a second, “you free me from Soldierboy, and Peaches tell me about your soul, and how you must want it to get it back.  And at first I thought that never in a thousand years you would want that.  But then I remembered what you told me.  About Heaven.  And if I hadn’t tried to make you remember it too, it would have been the same as tearing you out from there.  Again.  ‘Couldn’t do that to you.”

He finished in a whisper, and brushed his lips to the top of her head.  As she opened her eyes at last, she turned up to see his face, and was surprised to find tears in his gaze.  Slowly, softly, she brought her lips to his, silently thanking him for remembering even when she had forgotten.
 

“You were ready to give up your redemption.”

They were walking back toward Revello, fingers entwined, when Buffy suddenly let out these words, half question, half puzzled statement.  Spike looked at her sideways, wondering why she hadn’t commented on that earlier, and why she was doing so now.

“I was”, he replied simply, and received a light frown in return.

“You don’t care about it anymore?” she asked.  “When you were human, you wanted to make up for… before.  And just a few hours ago you were going to add to the numbers.”

“I suppose that not having a soul to torture me over it made things easier”, he tried to joke.

She didn’t seem to find any humor in it, however, and said so explicitly.  That sobered him, and when he spoke again his voice was a quiet murmur.

“I am still a demon, pet”, he tried to explain.  “Feeling unnatural guilt doesn’t change that.  I still remember what it is like to feed off humans, and I still crave it.  You know why I became a white hat.  I never made a secret that it was because of you, for you, and no other reason.  Being human… well, that added another incentive, since I didn’t quite fancy insanity.  But with both my soul and yours gone, it was…  I’m sorry, but it was pointless.”

He observed her from the corner of his eye for a few seconds, wondering what she was thinking as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.  He imagined she was going to keep on about his so-called redemption, and he was already getting ready for the soulful speech, but it didn’t come.

“If you want to…” she started, and hesitated.

“If I want what?” he encouraged her, curious.

“What you were doing before, you know, scaring bad people…  If you want to start doing it again, I won’t stop you.”

He blinked several times as he stopped walking and looked at her, astonished.  She returned his gaze levelly, but he could see some uneasiness in her.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.  “You were ready to stake me when you found out.  I wouldn’t want you to change your mind again, luv.”

She nodded and gave him a light smile.

“I am sure.”

They started walking again, and Spike couldn’t help but wonder out loud about her change of heart about that particular matter.

“Cordy did say it was alright, didn’t she?” she replied weakly.

“She said that three weeks ago”, he pointed out gently.  “And you never even mentioned it.”

“Yeah, well, three weeks ago it didn’t matter because you were human anyway.  And…  I didn’t know then.”

He cocked his head as he looked at her, but her face was turned forward, hiding her thoughts from him.

“I didn’t know how bad it is,” she continued in a whisper.  “Craving for human blood.  I can’t believe you went so long only on bags and not having even another vamp to bite.”

Something tightened in Spike’s chest as her words echoed in his mind.  Until a few days ago, all Buffy had experienced in lieu of feeding was bagged blood or another vampire, and it had been enough because she didn’t know, couldn’t imagine without actually sinking her fangs into living flesh, how much different it was.  How glorious.  How deeply satisfying and satiating.  But now she knew, and Spike was all too aware that her demon would ask for fresh blood with more force than ever before.  And knowing her, he was sure she wouldn’t allow herself to give in.

“Will you help me?” he asked nonetheless.

She shook her head.  “I don’t think so,” she said quietly, though there was a catch of hesitation in her tone.

He didn’t insist.  She would have time to change her mind about that later if the call became too hard to resist, and he didn’t want her to feel like he was pressuring her into it.  And yet, he couldn’t help hoping that she would join him eventually.  Soul or no soul, white hats or not, they were demons, and it was useless to pretend otherwise.

They finally arrived home, and entered quietly, Buffy wondering in a whisper:

“Do you think anyone’s here?”

She was anxious to meet the Scoobies; it had been obvious ever since their talk in the church.  And he might have made a mistake.  He hadn’t pointed out to her that it wasn’t really her that had been going around wanting to hunt and kill.  For him, the difference didn’t matter so much.  But he knew that it did for the Scoobies, and it had to be…

“Dawn and Steven are.  But they’re asleep by now.”

Both vampires were startled by the unexpected answer to Buffy’s inquiry, and found its source in the living room.  Spike was surprised at seeing Cordelia sitting in an armchair, and a quick look at Buffy showed that she was just as taken aback.  The angel looked remarkably human, Spike mused, not wearing these too white dresses anymore, but comfortable jeans and a blouse.

“You’re a bit late,” he said dryly.  “We could have used your help for…”

“Oh, don’t start, bleach boy”, she interrupted him.  “Angel already gave me the ‘how could you let that happen’ speech, in length and with as much brooding as he could manage.  I’ll tell you why if you will just sit down and listen, alright?”

“What if we don’t care why?”  Buffy asked.  “Whatever your reasons, you didn’t help.  Period.”

“They weren’t my reasons,” Cordelia said mildly.  ”The Powers That Be told me not to help you, whatever happened.”

Anger was slowly rising in Spike.  Was that the team he was playing for?  With the big boss preventing help being given to one of their best fighters?  It was becoming ridiculous, and he was going to say so when Buffy asked:

“Why would they do that?”

She had claimed she didn’t care about knowing the cheerleader’s reasons, but apparently, she did.

“It was a test,” Cordy replied, making a face as she did so.  “They wanted…”

“Bloody wankers!”  Spike growled.  “Hasn’t she been through enough already?  If that’s how you treat allies…”

Buffy caught his hand, and shook her head lightly, as if telling him it wasn’t worth it.

“It wasn’t Buffy who was being tested,” Cordelia said quietly then.  “In fact, she could have done just about anything and they wouldn’t have held it against her.”

Both he and Buffy looked at the brunette in surprise, both trying to understand what she was saying exactly.  And then realization dawned on Spike.

“It was me,” he said slowly.  “They were testing me.  Weren’t they?”

Cordelia nodded.  “Yes, it was you, but not only.  They were also testing me.  And Angel.  And Giles.  And the new Slayers.  A test fest, really.”

“And I failed.”  Spike continued as if she hadn’t talked.

Buffy’s hand tightened its grip on his, and Spike forced himself to look at her face.  He hadn’t just failed the giant wankers’ test, he had failed his Childe too.  He had said he would do anything to join her into Heaven, but he had probably ruined whatever chances he had left.

“You didn’t really fail,” Cordelia commented before he could tell Buffy how sorry he was.  “After all, you did help Buffy get her soul back.  But there are some concerns that you would have let her kill and killed with her if it hadn’t worked.  So you didn’t fail, but you didn’t quite pass either.  At this point, the Powers don’t really know what to do with you.”

“Leaving me alone would be a good start,” Spike replied petulantly.

“As long as you hang out with Buffy, you know it’s not gonna happen.”

For a few seconds, he considered the woman in front of him.  It wasn’t her fault if he had tied his unlife to Buffy.  It wasn’t her fault her bosses were wankers.  And it wouldn’t help a thing to yell at her, however good it might have felt.  So he kept his mouth shut and simply nodded, more to signify he had heard her that to say he agreed.

“What about you?”  Buffy suddenly asked the brunette.  “What was your test?”

Cordelia let out a quiet, tired sigh.

“They told me you would lose your soul,” she said, looking straight at Buffy.  “And they told me I wasn’t to do a thing about it.  Nothing at all.  Just let you all deal with the problem.  If I had helped against their orders, they would have erased all my memories of my human life, so that you would have been just anyone to me, and I wouldn’t have cared about any of you any more than about anyone else.  I just had to hope you would get out of this by yourselves so that I would be able to help in the future.  Because you aren’t done with needing help, believe me on that one.  And other angels might not care as much as I do whether you get out of it dead or alive.”

As she talked, Spike was mildly surprised to realize the cheerleader sounded angry with all of this, as upset with her bosses as he himself felt.

“Manipulative bunch, eh?” he said quietly.

“You have no idea,” she replied with a tight smile.  “But from what I hear, the other side is even worse.”

After Cordelia had left – in what was now her usual fashion, brief flash of light and sudden disappearance – Buffy mindlessly followed Spike into the kitchen.  She expected him to get some blood ready and sat down at the island to wait, but she was surprised when, instead of pulling out blood bags from the fridge, he took out some milk and set it to warm on the stove.  Next, he took the chocolate from the cabinet, and glanced back at her, an eyebrow arched questioningly.

“Someone seems to have raided our chocolate supply,” he observed, clearly amused.

She gave him a half-smile.  “At least there’s some left,” she replied, a bit sheepishly.  “But we finished the marshmallows.”

Chuckling lightly, he turned back to the pan and busied himself with preparing hot chocolate, and Buffy just watched him, trying, and failing, not to let her mind work too much over the events of the last days.  So much she had to ask forgiving for – as well as forgive herself…

Soon, Spike was pulling her out of her thoughts by placing a full mug in front of her.

“So, who did you eat my marshmallows with?” he asked casually while sipping on his own cup.

She took a mouthful of the drink, finding instant comfort in the familiar taste, before answering.  “Manon.”

The quietly uttered name brought a flash of surprise to Spike’s face, and she wondered whose name he had been expecting.

“The other you did seem to like the kid”, he commented, his tone very careful.

The other her…  Buffy couldn’t help frowning at the thought.  He had said several times that she was the same, was he changing his mind now?

“I said you were you, but a different you,” he clarified when she asked him.  “Mostly the same, but not completely.  The parts I love were the same.  The parts the other people in your life love… well, that’s different.  They were talking about bringing you back.  So for them, it wasn’t their Buffy they dealt with the last few days.  You have to realize that, luv.”

On their own, her lips twisted in a bitter grin.  “That’s the easy way out, isn’t it? ‘Hey, I didn’t have my soul, so you can’t blame me for wanting to eat you.  Let’s all be friends again.’  That doesn’t make things any better, though.  And they won’t look at me the same now.”

Her gaze fell down to her cup and she watched the slow twirls in the chocolate until Spike’s finger under her chin made her look back up at him.

“Do you blame Angel for what Angelus did?” he asked, his voice emotionless.

Her mouth opened, and then closed without a sound.  How many times had she used that excuse?  How many times had she taken it for a fundamental truth that Angel with his soul and without it were two completely different persons?  Not only her.  They had all accepted that.  All the gang.  It hadn’t always been easy, but in the end, there was no doubt left for anyone.  Especially not for her.  But this line of thought suddenly seemed less convincing when it was used to excuse her own behavior.

“The problem is not so much how they’re going to look at you,” Spike continued, more gently, his hand now cupping her cheek.  “It’s how you think they look at you.  When they tell you they have forgiven you, don’t start brooding and wondering whether they truly do.  Just accept that they don’t blame you for what you did without your soul.  No more than they blame Angel.”

Slowly she nodded, and his hand finally separated from her skin.  She missed the contact, but it soon returned when, after she had finished her chocolate, he took her hand and led her to their room.  They undressed each other before slipping under silk sheets.  As soft as the fabric was, it felt rough to Buffy when compared to Spike’s spooning embrace.  For a long time, she remained staring into the dark, wondering how things would go when she did see the gang again.  Spike’s talk had been reassuring, but it didn’t erase the memories.

A kiss pressed to her bare shoulder startled her out of her grim reflections.

“Enough brooding, Childe,” Spike growled softly against her hair.  “Everything will be fine now.  So get some sleep.”

It wasn’t a Sire’s order, but the words worked just as well, and soon she had fallen asleep, deeply grateful for and soothed by the protective arms of her Mate around her.
 

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