Rating: This part is PG-13 for language and violence – but the story is NC-17 overall.

A/N: I’ll say this so that I don’t upset anyone: I think my first scene here is very out-of-character for Buffy. When it comes down to it, I believe she would have done exactly what she did in Chosen and respected Spike’s choice to sacrifice himself. This story is merely an exploration of what might have happened if she had chosen differently.

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Part One – Choices

Beneath the high school, the battle had reached a feverish pitch. The combined roar of the earth’s trembling and the swath of sunbeams annihilating the enemy was practically deafening. Spike stood at the center of it all, his panicked expression slowly fading into something peaceful and accepting. The earth lurched violently, almost throwing Buffy and Faith to the ground. Spike, however, seemed to be held up by an unseen force and didn’t so much as waver as the ground beneath his feet began to give way.

It took a moment for Buffy to truly understand what was happening: Spike was going to die. And he didn’t seem the least bit upset about it. Though she had faced the same sort of sacrifice herself, she couldn’t understand why he looked so peaceful. “You’ve done enough,” she shouted over the roar of battle. “We need to get out of here!”

He started to argue with her, eyes flashing with fierce determination, but all she heard was Faith’s panicked cry behind her. “Buffy, come on!” she called, trying to maintain her grip on the rock formation at the entrance of the Hellmouth.

Things began to move in slow motion. Before she realized what she was doing, Buffy closed her hand upon the fiery amulet, ripped it off of his neck, and pulled him out of the deadly beam of sunlight that glared down from above. With an indignant but weak roar, Spike melted bonelessly to the ground, panting as if he was in great pain.

“Help me!” she cried to Faith, who immediately grabbed Spike’s other arm. Together they hefted his limp body up towards the Hellmouth entrance and out into the high school. The walls were screaming in protest, as if the very foundation beneath them was giving way.

“What the hell’s happening?” shouted Faith. “All the guy did was shine a little solar flashlight down there.”

Buffy ignored her as she urged them to go faster down the dust-filled hallway. “Blanket!” she exclaimed when they reached the doors. Letting go of Spike’s arm, Faith retrieved a blanket that had been purposefully placed near the entryway and threw it over his head.

Cries of panic came from the school bus as the people inside gripped whatever they could to steady themselves against the furious tremor. Buffy felt a wave of relief wash over her when she caught sight of her sister, safe and sound. “Buffy, hurry up!” Dawn cried, whipping around so that she could run up the stairs of the bus.

Breathing laboriously from both the weight of Spike and from the noxious air around them, Buffy and Faith barely managed to get themselves and the unconscious vampire through the door before Principal Wood threw the bus into gear and began speeding away from the high school.

“Shit…” Faith whispered, her eyes on the horizon behind them. “The school just collapsed. And there goes The Java Chip. Damn it, that place had kick-ass lattes.”

Giles looked pale and old as his eyes beheld the destruction. “It seems as if the damage is stopping there. That’s certainly a relief. The whole city could easily have collapsed.” There were several anxious cries from those who heard his words, but Giles ignored them. Turning back towards Principal Wood, he said, “Once we’re certain the earthquake and any aftershocks have ended completely, we should double back and see if our work is indeed complete.”

“Hold on a sec there,” Faith argued animatedly. “You’re talking about the city collapsing in on itself, and you want to go back? Are you fucking crazy, G?”

“If the topographic damage has ended, we should attempt to finish this now while the enemy is weakened,” insisted Giles. “We’ll drop off the wounded at the Summers’ residence, but those who are well enough to go on will return to the battlefront. It may well turn out that there’s nothing left to worry about, but if there is, we cannot afford to relent until our enemy is stamped out for good. Buffy, do you agree?”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

The truth was she hadn’t heard a word he had said. Ignoring just about everything around her, Buffy had collapsed breathlessly in the aisle. The wound that had punctured her back all the way through her stomach flared painfully as Spike’s limp but heavy form fell partially on top of her. She gripped him close nonetheless, willing to ignore the pain if it meant there was something solid pressed comfortingly against her. She couldn’t decide if it was her that was shaking so violently or if the earthquake had yet to relent. A wobbly breath eased from her chest.

“You okay?” asked Dawn, leaning over her sister with wide eyes.

“Help me get him to the back of the bus,” Buffy said, ignoring the question. Together they took hold of Spike’s shrouded form and pulled him down the aisle towards the covered seats set aside for him. Tugging back the edges of a small tent made out of thick, dark blankets, they carefully lifted him onto the seat.

“What’s wrong with him?” inquired Dawn when Buffy pulled the singed blanket away from his face. “He looks … dead.”

Buffy knew that what her sister was suggesting was impossible, but the words hit her hard nonetheless. Spike was a vampire, of course; if he was truly dead, she wouldn’t be looking at his corporeal body but at a small pile of dust. But seeing the way Spike’s head lolled around with each bump and turn concerned her deeply. Dawn was right; he really did look dead. Swallowing in hopes to wet her parched throat, Buffy gently pushed her sister back so that she could grip him by the shoulders. “Spike?” she said in the firmest voice she could muster, shaking him with nervous roughness.

Nothing happened at first, but eventually his eyes slowly peeled apart. Blinking as though in a daze, Spike drew in a wheezy, unneeded breath. The blue of his irises was completely eclipsed by his pupils as he gazed emptily back at them.

Despite his appearance, Buffy found herself sighing with relief. The fact that he had regained consciousness eased her mind, and she felt released to turn her attention to the others on the bus. Asking Dawn to stay with him, Buffy rose and started down the aisle, checking on injuries and counting heads. When she noticed a flash of red hair, she made her way over to check on Willow, who was barely conscious but seemed to be on the edge of a magical high that had her practically giddy. She appeared only slightly more aware of her surroundings than Spike, but she nevertheless wore a bright smile on her pale face. “Am I good or what?” she said with a wink.

Buffy didn’t remember what she said in reply, but she doubted Willow would have heard her over the roar of the bus anyway. In the distance, Buffy caught sight of dust and debris flying in the bus’s wake, but it didn’t really register in her mind what had happened outside. One thing she did notice was that they were closing in on Revello Drive. The prospect of home seemed almost ridiculous to her, as if she’d never expected to see it again. She glanced at Spike, knowing if it hadn’t been for him, none of them would have even survived. She would have a lot to thank him for later on, when he had recovered.

Buffy was forced to grab onto the edge of a seat as Principal Wood hit the brakes and brought the bus to a complete stop in front of her house. Giles stood and began shouting orders as everyone started rushing towards the doors. Too exhausted to bother getting tangled in a crowd, Buffy moved aside so that everyone could file off in front of her. It was then that she felt Xander tapping her shoulder.

“You, uh, didn’t see Anya, did you?” he managed, looking around the bus as if she might pop up from behind one of the seats unexpectedly.

Buffy followed his gaze, frowning as she realized Anya was no longer in their company. “Oh God, Xander…”

She said the words more for his benefit than anything else. Of course Anya was a great loss, and Buffy knew that down the road she would have the strength to care more. But at the moment, all she wanted to do was limp off the bus, curl into a ball, and sleep for several years. “Maybe Andrew knows something,” she suggested hopefully. “He was with her, right?”

Xander looked slightly nauseated as he nodded, glaring down at Spike’s vulnerable body lying in the seat next to them. Without another word, Xander unceremoniously gripped the unconscious vampire’s arm and began toting him out of the bus towards the house.

“Buffy,” began Giles as he made his way down the now-empty aisle towards her. “What caused this?”

“Caused what?” she replied weakly, collapsing into the seat that Spike had just vacated.

“The Hellmouth collapsed in on itself,” he clarified, sounding duly impressed. “Well, at least partially – the bits surrounding the high school. I’m not certain a complete collapse would be beneficial to the topography of this county, to be perfectly honest. But what caused it?”

“Spike,” she answered mechanically, not realizing until that moment that she still had the amulet gripped in her hand, its chain wrapped tightly around her dirty wrist. “This thing nearly killed him. I ripped it off of him before it could.”

Giles regarded her silently for a moment before reaching out a hand. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” she said, unwrapped the chain from her wrist and handing over the amulet indifferently.

Giles studied the markings on it curiously, holding it up to the sunlight, which was partially obscured by the dust still flying in the distance. The opaque jewel inside sparkled innocently as the glimpses of light hit it, but to Buffy’s relief, the amulet showed no signs of launching into another brilliant lightshow like the one it had provided earlier. “I’d like to study this further, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” Buffy replied, her voice still on autopilot. She rose at last from the seat and slapped the thighs of her jeans to force out some of the dirt clinging to the denim.

“I wanted to let you know…” began Giles before she could slip past him. “That is … I wanted to tell you how very proud I am of you. Not just for today, but for the entire year. And for the record … you were right about Spike.”

Buffy glanced up in surprise at his words.

“I still don’t approve of his presence in our operation here,” Giles clarified, “but his actions today at least prove that he’s willing to sacrifice for the greater good. I daresay not many others would have done what he did. Perhaps he’s come further along than I assumed.”

“You should tell him that yourself,” suggested Buffy. “It would probably mean a lot to him.”

“And voluntarily associate with that brainless pillock?” Giles quipped, ripping his glasses off his head in indignation. “I think not.”

Buffy smiled at his teasing tone, feeling a bit of the resentment she’d felt towards her former Watcher fade away. “I’m gonna head inside, if that’s okay.”

Returning the awkward smile, Giles nodded and turned. He wandered down the aisle in front of her, muttering something under his breath about the pity of Bilbo, a reference Buffy didn’t come close to understanding. Holding an arm across her injured stomach, she fixed her eyes on the dust-filled horizon, wondering exactly how much or how little they had accomplished.

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To be continued. (very soon!)

Chapter 2:

Spike was moved to the large bed in Buffy’s room at her request. Now that Faith was healed up – considerably more so than Buffy at the moment – she felt justified in reclaiming her room. Having Spike there with her was an unconscious decision; she didn’t even consider the possibility of sending him back down to his cot in the basement. Spike wavered in and out of consciousness and had yet to say anything, but Buffy felt confident of his recovery. After securing the curtains shut against the daylight, Buffy yawned widely and turned to thank Xander for helping her bring Spike upstairs. She frowned when she saw that he was no longer in the room, having slipped out without a word.

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh and put her head in her hands. She knew she should probably go downstairs and help with the wounded, but she couldn’t convince her legs to actually move. Responsibility was not attractive in the least to her exhausted mind. She knew that she was injured herself, though how badly was another question. She half-expected to keel over at any moment but couldn’t seem to work up the energy to care. Turning towards Spike, she wondered if he had sustained any wounds. She attributed his fleeting responsiveness more to his ordeal with the amulet rather than to a physical injury, but she decided it couldn’t hurt to make sure. Biting her lip in concentration, she carefully eased his arms out of his duster and pulled the grimy leather out from beneath him. He was silent until she arbitrarily placed a hand in the center of his chest. A small cry of painful protest came out of him then, and his eyes flew open. Though she muttered an apology, he didn’t seem to hear her and fell back into the same unresponsive daze he’d been in since she’d pulled the amulet off of his neck.

Realizing he was indeed wounded, Buffy tugged the bottom of his t-shirt up, exposing his stomach and chest. She cried out in alarm at what she saw. The area of his chest where the amulet had rested was charred black. Burned was an understatement. It was as if his body had actually started the process of turning to ash but was stopped just in time. Blinking back tears, she pressed a fist against her mouth to fight back a sudden rush of nausea. She fully realized at that moment how close she’d come to losing him, but her exhausted mind refused to let her dwell on such upsetting thoughts. She had to get out of there. Covering the wound with his t-shirt once again, she stumbled to her feet and out of her bedroom as fast as she could, turning her thoughts toward finding him blood and bandages.

Downstairs, she found Giles in the middle of a meeting with the uninjured Slayers. Wondering why she hadn’t been summoned to attend, Buffy listened half-heartedly as she poked through what was left in the medical supply box at the foot of the stairs.

“The earthquake is over, yes,” Giles was saying, “but things still are very unsettled out there. I want you all to be ready to flee if necessary – another tremor could do this town in. I fear the Hellmouth might be in danger of collapsing in on itself completely.”

Andrew’s hand popped up in the air. “That’s a bad thing? Wouldn’t it be, I dunno, helpful if it collapsed?”

“Seeing as we’re standing on top of it right now, I’d hardly call the entire town plummeting into a deep chasm helpful to our endeavors,” Giles replied, seeming annoyed at Andrew’s presence at such an important meeting.

“Shouldn’t we maybe just leave town?” suggested Willow, who appeared to have gained a significant part of her strength back. “I mean, just until we’re sure the aftershocks are over?” Several people around her nodded worriedly, but Giles shook his head.

“I understand your concern,” he replied, “but you must take into consideration what might happen once the sun goes down. We can’t be sure that the threat of The First’s army is gone until we’ve looked further into the situation. Who knows what might happen if emergency crews arrive on the scene? We must be willing to sacrifice our safety to ensure theirs.”

Buffy approached with a nod and said, “Giles is right. We don’t know who might try to approach Sunnydale tonight after the quake – police, ambulances – there could even be media on the scene. We need to make sure the city is safe, or we could be sitting on the edge of a massacre.”

“What do you mean we?” asked Faith incredulously. “You’re not going anywhere like that, B.”

“Why not?” Buffy argued, still upset that she wasn’t asked to the meeting in the first place.

“Uh, maybe because of the gaping wound in your stomach?”

Buffy blinked down at her bloodstained shirt, suddenly feeling the pain she’d been ignoring, and she had to fight her body’s urge to shrink and curl in on itself. Giles gripped her gently by the arm and led her towards the couch, where several girls had the courtesy to move aside so that she could sit. Glancing up briefly for permission, Giles lifted the edge of her blouse to reveal the wound. “Does this go all the way through?” he asked in disbelief. “Good heavens, why didn’t you say something? You could be bleeding internally.”

“That sounds like fun,” Buffy managed, glancing wearily at the curious faces all around her. Couldn’t they take a hint and get lost while she was getting her checkup?

“Willow, can you see what you can do about this?” requested Giles. “I don’t trust the speed of her Slayer healing with the seriousness of this wound.”

Willow approached obediently, nudging other people aside so that she could kneel in front of the couch. “Aren’t you exhausted?” Buffy asked her.

Easing Buffy onto her side so that she could see the entry wound on her back, Willow shrugged and said, “Sorta running on fumes, but surprisingly good fumes. I’m okay.”

Satisfied that Buffy was in good hands, Giles began giving out orders, naming Faith the leader. Buffy sat and watched in silence, not really knowing what to say or think. It felt strange to be surrounded by Slayers who had the potential to become every bit as strong as she was – even stranger that she was excluded from the new plan of action. A mere bystander on the sidelines of something big. She didn’t expect to feel jealous, but an old twinge of rivalry borne from when she was originally introduced to Kendra and Faith was resurfacing. She couldn’t even bring herself to say goodbye as the second front swept out of the door to return to the battlefield. She numbly watched the new Slayers file outside, toting her weapons in their inexperienced hands. It didn’t seem real somehow.

Willow returned from the kitchen and stooped in front of the couch with a shallow basin of water. She took a few dried leaves and crumpled them into the steaming hot water. “I kinda feel like Aragorn in the Houses of Healing,” she said with a sheepish smile.

Buffy frowned, too tired to ask what Willow was talking about. Instead she leaned back on the couch, breathing in the sweet aroma of the leaves. “What is that stuff? It’s nice.”

“Nothing special,” replied Willow. “It’s mostly just to relax you and help with the pain while I work. You might get a little sleepy, but that’s normal – so don’t think you have to fight it or anything. Am I hurting you?”

Buffy shook her head, only vaguely aware that Willow’s hand was pressing into her wound. She drifted on the edge of sleep for some time, seeing visions of sunbeams and fleeting sparks of light that danced just out of reach. Eventually Willow shook her patient gently, nudging Buffy out of her strange dream. She felt as if no time had passed at all, but the angle of the sun outside seemed to indicate otherwise. “All better now,” Willow announced brightly, though she looked paler than when she’d started. “I’m gonna go see if the others need any help. Most of the wounded are already gone, though. Xander took Principal Wood and the other injured Potentials to a hospital out of town – except I guess they’re not really Potentials anymore, huh? We’ll have to think of another nickname for them.”

“Spike,” Buffy whispered, suddenly remembering that she’d left him upstairs unattended. “Will you check on him? He’s up in my bedroom and hurt pretty badly. Burned on his chest by that amulet, I think.”

“Oh. Sure.” Willow didn’t sound very happy at the prospect, but she picked up the basin of water as well as a few other supplies and went upstairs without complaint.

Now that the strange herb was gone, Buffy was able to blink the last bits of sleep from her eyes and attempt to wake up. As she sat up, she felt a tug of pain in her abdomen. It felt as though someone had been prodding around in her insides with a long, pointy stick. Buffy lifted her shirt and found neat bandages. She knew Willow had probably fixed her up just fine, regardless of the pain she was still feeling. With a self-indulgent groan, Buffy rose to her feet, intent on finding a glass of water.

***

Willow knocked tentatively on the bedroom door before she peeked her head in. “Spike?”

The shapeless form on the bed didn’t move, but Willow thought she heard the slightest intake of breath from beneath the blankets. Sure enough, when she pulled back the cover from his face, his fully dilated eyes were blinking questioningly at her. “Buffy asked me to check up on you. She’s recovering downstairs from a sword wound.”

She watched him struggle for a moment with words, as if he was having trouble taking in enough breath to actually speak. “She okay?” he finally managed to rasp, his voice sounding as rough as a Turok-Han’s. Still, the fact that he was communicating rationally was reassuring.

Willow set the basin of herbs on the night table beside Buffy’s bed. “She’s just fine. A little shaken, though, and pretty beat. Sorta hanging on by a thread like the rest of us.”

Spike made a face. “Stinks.”

Willow smiled at the herb she was crumbling into the water. “You’ll get over it. Now let’s see what’s wrong with you. Can you sit up?”

Spike’s eyes drifted shut drunkenly in response.

“Okay, maybe not. Are you wounded? Buffy said something about a burn.”

“Chest. Hurts like a bitch.”

Pulling back the covers fully, Willow lifted the corner of his t-shirt. Seeing for herself the extent of his injuries, she forced herself to take in a deep breath before she continued. Buffy had certainly underestimated his condition. Faced with the prospect of such an extensive healing session, Willow suddenly felt exhausted after all she had done that day. In fact, she was shocked she wasn’t unconscious at the moment, but she couldn’t leave anyone – not even Spike – in such a state overnight. His pupils seemed to grow even larger as the cold air in the room hit the burn, and the corners of his eyes began swimming with tears. No, she decided; she definitely needed to see to his wounds tonight. She was going to pay the price eventually for expending so much energy, but she’d worry about that later.

She noticed that Spike was shivering and thought the very notion strange. Could vampires feel the cold? His skin was clammy and even sweaty to the touch – neither of which seemed very vampiric at all. She vaguely remembered Angel’s body reacting much the same way when he’d been poisoned several years back. While she didn’t think Spike was poisoned, he was definitely ill. She wondered what exactly had happened down in the Hellmouth that could have caused such a reaction. She would have to get the entire story out of Buffy later.

“What do I do?” she whispered, wondering how she could heal and revive the dead flesh of a technically dead being.

There was the possibility that Spike’s body could regenerate by itself, but the burned flesh seemed so beyond repair to her eyes that she worried it would heal incorrectly or possibly not at all. Finally she sank down onto her knees, placed her hands flat on the damaged part of his chest, and tried to ignore the sick feeling inching up her throat when Spike groaned in protest. She whispered a few words in Latin, and focused her mind on bringing regeneration to the damaged skin. She allowed a small amount of her life-force to seep through her hands into his body, feeling considerably weaker as she did so. But his skin felt warmer almost instantly, which encouraged her to continue. Eventually a soft rosy glow tinted the edges around the burn, which had started to peel.

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” she said decisively. “And wow, that was gross. I’m gonna go get you some blood, Spike. I think that’ll help more than anything I could do.”

“Thanks, Red,” he managed, and to her ears, his rasping sounded slightly less pained. “Ask you a question first?”

“Sure,” she said, leaning wearily on the bedpost.

“Is it … gone?”

Willow frowned and looked about the room. “Is what gone? The First? Well, we’re not sure yet, but that amulet thingy you whipped out helped a ton. Even more than my nifty Slayer spell, you big showoff.”

“Not what I meant,” he said. To her surprise, he pushed himself up into what appeared to be a painful sitting position. His eyes were blank and cold as he stared back at her. “My soul. I feel … numb. Like something’s missing. Is it gone, then?”

Willow’s mouth fell open, and she took a step backwards before she knew what she was doing. “Uh … is this the part where I run and scream? Except, hey – witch here – so there will be no funny business, got that?”

“Not gonna hurt you,” said Spike in an even voice. “Just answer the question, all right?”

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Willow looked into his eyes, searching for the spark she’d seen there throughout the year. It was several minutes before she finally came to a conclusion.

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To be continued.

A/N: Two chapters, and I’ve already made two Lord of the Rings references. Heh. I’m hopeless. ;)

Chapter 3:

From her comfortable place on the couch, Buffy thought she heard someone rummaging around in the kitchen. A moment later, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw Willow carrying a gallon of blood and a glass upstairs. The fact that Spike was ready to take some blood was a good sign that he was going to heal up just fine. She ran her fingers over her bandaged stomach and heaved a careful sigh of relief.

She understood what Spike had tried to do – she’d played the part of the sacrificial lamb herself, once upon a time. Part of her knew she should have let him finish what he’d started. Looking back, it seemed almost disrespectful that she’d denied him such a clear and selfless act of sacrifice, but she couldn’t seem to convince herself that she’d made the wrong decision. She knew what she wanted, and losing Spike was not on that list. Happy to forgo responsibility for the moment, she tried not to think of what consequences her decision might have had. He was safe, and that’s what mattered to her in the end.

Now came the question of what to do with him – not to mention their future relationship. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut against a wave of confusion, too tired to think of an answer. She didn’t know what she wanted from Spike; besides, it wasn’t as if he was actively pursuing her the way he used to. The cuddling was nice, but it was really beginning to look as though that was as far as either of them were willing to go. She’d thought more than once that if he’d shown any sign of wanting to go further, she would respond to his advances willingly, but he seemed so hesitant that she found herself backing off as well. One thing she did know – tonight he was going to sleep in her bed, and if he was healed up enough, she was going to be right there next to him. After that, she didn’t know.

The familiar thump of Dawn’s flip-flops sounded in the kitchen. Suddenly feeling lonesome, Buffy pressed a hand into her stomach for support and rose carefully from the couch. A wave of vertigo almost made her sit back down again, but she fought it.

Dawn looked about 12 years old when Buffy found her standing in front of the refrigerator with a blank expression. She felt a pang of guilt when she thought of how she’d been ignoring Dawn over the last few weeks. “Want me to fix you something?” asked Buffy.

Biting her lower lip, Dawn shut the refrigerator door without taking anything out. “No thanks. I don’t think I could eat anything.”

“Everything okay?”

Dawn shrugged indifferently as she fished a clean glass out of the dishwasher. “I’ve been talking to Andrew. He’s not doing so well after what happened.”

“Happened?” Buffy echoed in confusion.

“You know. Anya dying right in front of him?” Dawn replied coarsely as she poured herself a glass of water.

“Oh,” said Buffy, her gaze falling to the scuffed kitchen floor. “I keep forgetting all that’s happened. Everything’s such a blur. It doesn’t seem real, you know?”

Dawn looked for a moment like she was going to snap at her sister, but seemed to think better of it. Her shoulders drooped, as if the will to fight had suddenly left her. “Amanda didn’t make it either,” she added quietly.

Buffy blinked in surprise. She hadn’t noticed Amanda’s absence before then. All the speechifying in the world about noble sacrifice still didn’t help the guilty feeling welling up in Buffy’s chest. Sixteen was far too young to die; she should know.

“So many others, too,” Dawn continued. Taking a deep breath, she set her glass on the kitchen island and stared intently at her sister. “I want to get out of here.”

“We can’t go anywhere tonight, Dawnie,” said Buffy gently. “I don’t think it’s safe out there quite yet.”

“No. I want to leave the Hellmouth for good. I’m sick of living like this.”

“Oh…” Wincing in pain that was more than just physical, Buffy leaned heavily against the island facing her sister. “Yeah. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“There’s a ton of other Slayers now,” Dawn continued, fed by her sister’s encouragement. “We could leave, and it would be okay for once.”

Buffy was surprised at the seriousness in her sister’s voice. “You’re that unhappy here?”

“Aren’t you? I mean think about it, Buffy. All we’ve known here has been tragedy and fighting. And I’m sick of seeing everyone I care about die.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

“Then we can leave?” Dawn asked hopefully.

“We’ll see, Dawnie,” said Buffy, running her fingers through her sister’s long hair. “We still have a few responsibilities here, at least for tonight. Let’s just take things one day at a time, and see what happens, okay?”

With a reluctant nod, Dawn smiled and said, “You sounded kinda like Mom just then.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. Promise you’ll at least think about leaving?”

“I promise. I’ll pinky swear, even,” Buffy said, offering her little finger to her sister. As they hooked pinkies, Willow walked into the kitchen carrying an empty jug.

“How’s Spike?” asked Buffy as she pulled Dawn into a one-armed hug.

“Better,” Willow replied in an even tone as she began filling the teakettle with water. “He ate – wow, did he eat – and said he had enough strength afterwards to take a shower, which between you and me, he really needed. He’s also super cranky, which tells me more than anything that he’ll be fine.”

Buffy smiled, and a warm feeling spread through her chest. “Thanks, Will. I wouldn’t know what to do with him. And hey – I’m feeling better myself. That was some powerful mojo you worked there.”

Willow either didn’t hear her or chose not to answer. Looking as if she had something serious on her mind, she busied herself with pulling out a mug and dropping a tea bag into it. “I’m probably gonna turn in early,” she said as she fished for honey in the cupboard. “I know the sun’s still up, but I’m kinda pooped.”

“Well, it’s not like you did much today,” Dawn teased. “You just riddled the planet with Slayers is all.”

Willow smiled but didn’t respond. The other two girls sensed she was deeply exhausted and left her alone. “I think I’m gonna turn in, too,” Buffy said with a stifled yawn.

“Kay,” Dawn replied as she set her empty glass in the sink. “You want me to wake you up if Xander calls from the hospital?”

“Definitely, but try to get some sleep, too.”

With that, Buffy turned on her heels and climbed wearily up the stairs, feeling as if she had a 50-pound weight tied to each shoelace. Spike wasn’t in bed when she returned to the room. Pricking her ears up against the silence, she made out the gentle sound of the shower running in the bathroom down the hall. Thankful that he was up and around, Buffy let herself collapse onto the bed with an exhausted ooof.

It was over, she realized in amazement, and they’d actually won. For so long, she’d prepared herself for defeat, and now that victory seemed within their grasp, she could hardly believe it. The world was once against safe for the unsuspecting populace, which was definitely cause for celebration – so why did she feel so down all of the sudden? As she picked at her chipped nail polish, she thought perhaps she was experiencing a mental let down after all the build up before the battle. Her mom used to talk about such a decline around Christmastime after the girls would finish tearing into their presents, but Buffy had never really experienced it after a battle. Her job was never really over, so there was no time to let her guard down. But now there were other girls to do her job – she wasn’t as needed as she had once been. Perhaps Dawn was right, she thought. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for them both. Buffy thought maybe it might be easier to adjust to the change if it wasn’t staring her right in the face everyday in the form of new Slayerettes. She made up her mind to talk the matter over with Giles tomorrow, or whenever he could lend her his ear.

Rolling onto her side, Buffy frowned at the clock. A good half an hour had passed since she returned to her room, and Spike had still not emerged from the bathroom. Exactly how long a shower was he planning to take? She could still hear it running in the background. There were still bills to pay and hot water to be saved for an exhausted Slayer who happened to have the same name as her. Wincing in pain, she rose from the bed and knocked on the bathroom door.

No answer.

“Spike? You okay in there? Should I send in the Coast Guard?”

Silence.

Buffy rolled her eyes dramatically, not feeling the slightest bit of patience at the moment. Finding the door unlocked, she barged in and said, “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse my brashness. After an epic battle like today’s, somehow I just really don’t care about etiquette. It’s a thing.”

From behind the shower curtain, she detected the slightest bit of movement, but he didn’t say a word in response to her entry. Sighing impatiently at the lack of reaction, she marched over and peeked behind the curtain. Shrouded in heavy steam, Spike stood with his fists pressed into the wall in front of him, head bowed under the water flow. She could feel how hot the water was from where she stood. The skin on his shoulders and neck was flushed red, the steady stream of scalding water burning him. His head turned slightly towards her, silently acknowledging her presence. The expression on his face surprised her. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn he was glaring at her.

“That bad, huh?” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Pushing himself off the wall, Spike turned off the water and threw back the shower curtain in one smooth movement. Buffy watched wide-eyed as he stepped out into the muggy bathroom with an unabashed air she’d not seen from him since their affair last year. Unconcerned with his nudity, he snatched up a towel and scrubbed furiously at his sopping hair for a moment before wrapping it around his hips.

“Your burn looks like it’s healed,” Buffy noted, trying her best not to stare. It did, indeed. Thanks to Willow, it was no longer black and ominous looking; instead his chest had taken on an angry red hue. The burn looked no worse than anything he might have gotten from an accidental peek of sunlight. Still, she frowned at his decision to take a scalding hot shower with such an injury. “You okay?”

“No.”

She glanced uncertainly in his direction, wondering why he sounded so angry with her. “Why don’t you come to bed, then? You sound tired.”

Spike turned around so quickly that Buffy drew back instinctively, afraid that he was about to strike her. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he seemed to rethink it. Stooping to retrieve his dirty clothes from the floor, he walked past her and out through the door.

“Not that way,” Buffy called when she saw that he turned towards the stairs. “We have my room tonight. Faith is on duty with the others.”

Once again, he didn’t reply. The only way she knew he’d heard her was that he changed direction and headed for her room. He dropped his clothes carelessly in the doorway as he entered, obviously not interested in putting them back on.

Not feeling like having an argument, Buffy rolled her eyes again as she followed him into the room. She kicked his clothes out of her way and said, “Look, Spike. You’re obviously pissed about something, so can you please just get it out so we can go to bed? I’m too tired for this.”

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he said quietly.

“Done what?” she asked, holding up her hands.

“Saved me.”

She chuckled in disbelief. “You’re kidding right?” The glare he shot in her direction told her that he wasn’t. “Look, I understand the appeal of the noble sacrifice – really, I do – but you can’t seriously be angry with me for vetoing your choice? I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide,” he snapped. “And yes, I am angry.”

With a frustrated growl, Buffy scrubbed her fists over her face. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Then you bloody well shouldn’t have asked what was wrong.”

“What is with you?” she shot back. “All right, I get that you’re angry, but you know what? It’s done now. No going back. Don’t you think you’re acting a bit over the top here?”

Spike sat on the edge of the bed and placed his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Buffy edged closer and lightly touched the back of his neck, where the ends of his hair were curling as they dried. His skin was hot to the touch from his long shower. “You’re probably just tired, like the rest of us,” she said gently, frowning when she felt his back jolt with a bitter chuckle. “What?” she asked accusingly.

“Nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head and her hand away from his neck in the process. “Everything’s come undone, is all. Wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Didn’t even think I’d make it this far.”

“Are you trying to say you knew that amulet might kill you?” she asked slowly.

“Course I did,” he replied shortly. “Was pretty obvious if you ask me, what with all that champion hoo-hah. They might as well have carved R.I.P. onto the back of the blasted thing, for all its subtleties.”

“I guess I missed the memo,” she murmured, feeling a strange twinge in her stomach. “I mean … you knew? And you still went through with it?”

His clear blue eyes blinked up at her questioningly. “Is that really so surprising?”

Buffy stared at her hands, unable to think of a response. Of course, she knew he had it in him to willingly make such a sacrifice – but to have been preparing himself for it for days? It did surprise her. Looking back on all the things he’d said and done since she’d given him the amulet, Buffy realized how many of them had been Spike saying goodbye. She felt suddenly angry yet strangely proud at the same time. “I don’t need you to save me, Spike.”

“Who said I did it for you?” he asked calmly.

That caught Buffy off-guard. She wanted him to elaborate, but the statement seemed rather rhetorical. “Well, for what it’s worth,” she tried again, “I was really proud of you today.”

Spike stared back at her with the same empty expression. “Is Anya here?” he asked, ignoring the compliment.

“Actually,” she replied quietly, “I don’t think she made it.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, his face unreadable. “I needed to ask her a question. Wanted a second opinion on something.”

Buffy’s frown deepened. “That’s all you have to say about her dying?”

“For now.”

“Spike, would you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh, didn’t Willow let you in on the secret already?” he said with an incredulous snicker. “I’m surprised. She shot out of here fast enough.”

“What secret?”

“Should have known when the light came,” he muttered despairingly. “It didn’t feel right inside – like something was lifting up and out of me. Now it’s gone, and I don’t know if I can get it back again.”

Buffy had had enough of his cryptic monologue. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to find Willow.”

“Would you like me to draw you a picture? The soul’s gone, Buffy. Apparently went poof while I was busy channeling UV rays … or maybe when you ripped that amulet off my neck. Ta, pet.”

Buffy’s mouth fell open, but for several long moments, she couldn’t seem to form any words. A few things clicked into place in her head, such as the minor but noticeable changes in his behavior. His eyes beheld her differently, too. His whole demeanor had changed from brooding and hesitant to angry and sexual. A million different scenarios flew through her mind – of Spike never being able to reclaim his lost soul; of him not even trying to retrieve it at all; of her friends rejecting him and forcing him out of her life regardless of her protests; of him deciding she was no longer worth the sacrifice and returning to his old vampiric ways.

“Oh.”

Spike snorted. “Bet you’ve got a lot more to say than that. Don’t hold back now. Feel free to chuck me out into the daylight if you want. I’m past caring.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, his cheek helping her find her voice. “Just calm down, so I can think.”

As she sat down on the bed beside him, he immediately rose and started prowling around the edges of her vision. “It’s not like I don’t want it back. Fought long and hard for my soul, I’ll have you know. This isn’t right.”

“So … you’re not feeling any murderous, driven-crazy-by-all-the-humanity Angelus urges, huh?” Buffy swallowed hard and said, “That’s good.”

“Not so much,” he muttered, still pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “Though killing something would feel good right about now. I’ll behave, though,” he added defensively when she shot a glare at him. “Done it before, haven’t I?”

“You don’t even have your chip anymore,” she realized, saying the words more to herself than to him.

Spike sighed and dropped down to one knee in front of her. “I got a soul for you, you daft bint. I think I can behave myself for a little while ‘til I get it back. Still love you, don’t I?”

Buffy’s shoulders visibly relaxed at his words. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do. But please, Spike, don’t slip and make me have to do something that would tear me up inside. I can’t handle you going A.W.O.L. or worse on top of everything else.”

“What should we tell the others?” he asked quietly.

Buffy groaned at the prospect of countless Slayers knowing Spike was without a soul. Feeling a rush of fierce protectiveness, she said, “Not the girls. There’s no telling what they’d do if they found out, with all that new power tingling in their fingers. But we should let a few people know – like Giles. He might be able to help. He took the amulet from me earlier, to study it.”

“Did he, now?” When Spike lifted his head to glare at her, she experienced a pure moment of panic. She’d forgotten how intense his gaze could be – as if nothing else in the world was worth noticing other than her for that moment. All of the sudden, she realized how close he was and how little he was wearing. Heat still radiated off his water-speckled skin. She felt strangely intimidated by him, something she hadn’t felt since she was first introduced to soulless Spike so many years ago, stepping out of the shadows behind the Bronze with that slow, sardonic clap. Familiarity had yet to settle in, and she was far from comfortable in his presence. But at the same time, she was struggling against excitement. As proud as she was of ensouled Spike and knowing how much she’d grown to trust him, there was still something about his soulless counterpart that wound her up like no one else could. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was – perhaps it was simply in their nature to be fascinated with each other.

Spike seemed to sense her distress, or perhaps he had picked up on her arousal. Either way, he didn’t back off but leaned in closer. She shivered when she felt his breath on her neck; it trickled through her hair and down the length of her back, causing her to draw closer as well, even though she meant to back away. Her body was taking over, where her mind was too tired to put up a rational argument – and Spike seemed to realize it. He ran his fingers through her hair with a roughness that his ensouled counterpart would never even considered using with her.

“I’ve got a lot of facts floating around in my head right now,” he said quietly as he studied her unguarded expression. “A lot of things I know I should be doing, and things I shouldn’t even consider.” His mouth found her temple, her heartbeat hammering against his lips as he spoke. “None of it makes sense anymore, now that the soul’s gone. I know I shouldn’t touch you … but I can’t really remember why.”

Rationale and confusion had long since fled, leaving only her raw feelings for Spike before her. “Why are you so determined not to give us a chance?” Buffy managed weakly as their cheeks brushed together. His skin was so smooth and warm … she wanted to touch every inch of it.

“I swore I’d never try anything with you again,” he replied, inching back slightly as he said the words. “Not unless you asked me to or acted first.”

“Oh. Well, then … let me help you.” Sliding her arm around his neck, she brought his lips to hers in one fluid movement.

-----------------

To be continued.
 

Part Four – Reunion

“I swore I’d never try anything with you again,” he replied, inching back slightly as he said the words. “Not unless you asked me to or acted first.”

“Oh. Well, then … let me help you.” Sliding her arm around his neck, she brought his lips to hers in one fluid movement. He let out a small moan of surprise but was quick to respond. Hands finding her waist, he pulled her onto his lap with her legs straddled on either side of his.

This, thought Buffy. She’d missed this – dreamt about it guiltily ever since the first time they’d kissed so many years ago. No one could kiss like Spike. He made you feel as though you were the only person in the world worth a second glance, and he focused every bit of himself into proving it to you. Their kisses were hungry but lacking the desperate, vicious edge of those they’d shared the previous year. Buffy decided she liked the change very much. It seemed purer in motivation and intention, as if mere physical pleasure was no longer the main focus. But as the kiss continued, all Buffy’s thoughts on the matter faded away into the colorless background – all she wanted to think about was him and the way his fingertips were tracing slow, deliberate circles down the small of her back. Something inside her ached for more. They lowered themselves as one body down onto the mattress, their lips never losing contact. She held perfectly still as his tongue slipped into her mouth, happily reacquainting herself with his deepest kisses.

Both pairs of hands began to roam. Hers found the curls at the back of his neck and tugged on them playfully before she slid her fingers down his bare back, kneading the firm muscles she discovered there. Spike began to pull at her clothing, not removing anything but obviously interested in doing so. She encouraged him by unbuttoning the top few buttons of her shirt, letting him deal with the rest as she yanked the towel away from his hips with boldness that surprised them both. With a quiet growl, he flipped her over so that she was lying under him. He tossed her shirt away and bent his head to suckle one breast through the thin material of her tank top. As she writhed beneath him, he grasped her under her arms and tugged her upwards so that she was lying fully on the bed, whereas before her legs had been dangling off of the edge.

They both gasped in pain when Spike tried to rest himself on top of her body. Neither of their wounds had yet to heal completely. Muttering a hasty apology between kisses, he eased her onto her side next to him, and placed one of his arms behind her neck to support her head while his other hand worked the zipper on her jeans. When he finally got them undone, his hand dipped inside to find her soft, springy curls damp with anticipation. She tensed in eagerness, but he drew his hand away. Licking slow kisses into her mouth, he pushed her jeans and panties down to her knees so he could get better access. Buffy continued to kick her clothes off as Spike’s fingers began to tease her lower stomach. He traced slow circles down her abdomen, driving her mad with expectation. After what seemed like forever, he lifted one finger up to her lips and let her suck on it for a moment or two before bringing it down between her thighs and slipping it inside her warm folds. A second finger soon followed and when she had relaxed enough, a third. She moaned loudly against the side of his neck when his thumb found her clit and began rubbing its slick surface in firm circles that made her hips lift off the bed. She squirmed helplessly, but was held so tightly by his arm that she could barely move from the waist up. The wound on her stomach hurt terribly, but the pain was secondary to the pleasure.

She bit his shoulder hard to keep from screaming when she came. He smiled down at her adoringly when he felt her body lock in pleasure, her face open and free of all the worries that had plagued her for so many months. Though she tried to pull away once the last waves faded, he continued rubbing her clit until he felt her reach a second, less intense climax a minute or two later. Multiple orgasms, she realized languidly. She’d read about those. Free at last from a store of built-up tension, her body went slack in his arms and melted happily against his.

“Needed that,” she murmured, rubbing her lips sleepily across his chest.

“I know you did.”

But once her pulse began to slow back down, Buffy felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness. His wet fingers were resting on her thigh, and she was hopelessly tangled up in the rest of him, various limbs intertwined. She felt his erection pressed up against her stomach and was suddenly very aware of both their nakedness.

“You all right?” he asked, tugging gently at the straps of her tank top, the last scrap of clothing on her body.

“Can we get under the covers?” asked Buffy timorously, trying without success to hide her discomfort. He released her then, but pulled her tank top over her head as soon as she sat up. As she tugged back the comforter, she felt his hands sliding gently over her bandaged stomach.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked as he slipped under the sheets.

“A little,” she admitted, hesitantly watching him pat the mattress next to him invitingly. “I … I don’t know if I can do this.”

Spike studied her frightened expression suspiciously for a moment before tugging the comforter over his nakedness and reaching his hand out to her. “Stop looking at me like that, and come here. Just want to hold you.” She let him gather her up to his chest, the bedding between their bodies. Immediately she felt better, finding the comfy spot under his collarbone where she had slept only last night. Her comfort zone reestablished, he tilted her chin up and kissed her lightly on the lips. “What got you so frightened all the sudden?”

“We’re not falling into last year’s patterns, are we?” she whispered. “Please tell me we aren’t. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

Spike’s face was void of emotion as he responded. “Does it feel like we are?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to tell. What’s the difference?”

“How we’re looking at it, I guess. Are you still out to use me and then toss me out? Gonna walk out on me as soon as the sun pops up?” He glanced over her shoulder at the sunlit curtains. “Well, as soon as it metaphorically pops up, at any rate.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Well, there you go.”

Buffy blinked up at him. “What about you? I wasn’t the only one with the issues last year, you know. Is this still about obsession for you? Doing a Slayer?” she asked boldly. “Or is it about love?”

“You know my answer to that. You just like to hear me say it,” he replied teasingly as he smoothed her hair away from her face. “Love you more than anything. This isn’t about possessing you, though I admit it might have been once upon a time. Just want to be with you.”

She frowned skeptically. “Are you doing that guy-thing where you say what I want to hear just to get into my pants?”

“Technically, love, I think I’ve already gotten into your pants,” he replied, wriggling his eyebrows at her bare bottom. That got a smile out of her, as well as two furiously blushing cheeks. “But what about you?” he continued, kissing the top of her head softly. “Is this about love … or about control?”

She knew it was a loaded question the minute he said it. What he was really asking was, ‘Do you love me?’ Buffy stared up at him, knowing that souled Spike would never have asked her such a bold question – would never believe her even if she told him she loved him and meant it. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

She meant her words as a teasing joke – a jab at how many times he’d insisted that she loved him in the past – but Spike seemed to really consider what she said. His eyes took in everything from the way she was looking at him to the way her hands were resting lightly on his chest. “Truth be told, I don’t think you do love me,” he replied at last. “But I think you could if you’d let yourself. The question is – will you?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond. His lips caught hers in a kiss once again, as his hands began to explore her body. Her breasts rubbed up against the cold material of the comforter that lay between their bodies, and she shivered as he began trailing kisses down the side of her neck.

“Would you stop if I asked you to?” she asked, testing him.

His mouth stilled on her pulse immediately, and she got her answer even before he replied. Spike might not have a soul anymore, but he’d learned a few lessons. “Yes, I would,” he replied quietly. “Is that what you want?”

He started to pull away, but she stopped him. Her fingers tangled in his damp curls, holding his head against her neck for a few moments while she made up her mind. He nuzzled her lightly but didn’t press in any other way. At long last, Buffy pushed herself up and off the bed. Spike frowned in her direction, thinking she was off to find herself a nightgown or somewhere else to sleep. When she swept over to her bedroom door, he thought it was over for sure, and was shocked when she twisted the lock in place and turned back towards the bed. His eyes swept down her lean body. Not even the bandage around her stomach could take away from her beauty. He watched as she pulled her hair down from the ponytail and shook it out so that it lay in soft waves over her shoulders and breasts. Then without so much as a word, she gripped the edge of the comforter and ripped it off of the bed. The sheet soon met the floor as well, and Spike was left leaning back against the pillows, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile.

“And here I thought you wanted to be under the sheets,” he said.

Buffy crawled up the bed towards him, breasts swaying alluringly. “I lied.”

She gripped him by the hips and tugged him downwards so that he was almost lying flat on the mattress. Her hands explored his chest in broad circular strokes. “Careful,” he breathed as she lingered over the hot, smooth skin of his healing burn. Then he smirked and added, “Or not.”

Pressing her hands flat against the mattress, she dipped her head and began trailing wet kisses from his collarbone down to his navel. There she flicked her tongue lightly inside the shallow indention of his bellybutton; his stomach was taut and firm beneath her lips. She moved to his hips and pressed kisses into the shadowed hollows beside his hipbones. His hands tangled in her hair, encouraging her to go lower. She gladly obliged, following the sloping V of his abdomen downwards. Her lips found the silky, pink sac at the apex of his thighs first. He gasped helplessly as she lingered there before moving onto his cock, which was resting upwards against his stomach. His soft skin felt like velvet against her lips. Without the use of her hands, she licked him from balls to tip and back down again. The second time she reached the head of his erection, she opened her mouth and took him inside. Hollowing out her cheeks, she worked him in and out of her mouth, enjoying the power she held over him as she watched the muscles in his stomach and groin tense and release vulnerably. She wanted to bring him off completely, as he had done for her, but before she could get close, he suddenly pulled her away from his cock with some urgency and settled her back on the bed.

Before she knew what was happening, he had pushed her knees apart, and his fingers were inside her again. Only this time he lowered his head to her clit and began working his tongue over it, varying between a quick, teasing flicker to long, sensuous laps that made her writhe. At length, he released her, keeping his fingers inside her as he moved her onto her side so that the pressure on her wounded stomach could be kept to a minimum. Grabbing the crook of her knee with his other hand, he lifted it a little to part her thighs and carefully moved over her. Only a second or two passed from the time his fingers slid out of her to when she felt his cock rubbing against her entry. When he finally pushed inside her, she gasped at how substantial he felt from this angle. The base of her abdomen began to tingle pleasantly.

He reached around her from behind to cup one of her breasts in his hand as he began to move earnestly within her. He took a pace that was not fast or urgent, unlike so many of their previous lovemaking sessions. He moved within her slowly, varying between shallow and deep thrusts so that every inch of her passage was aching pleasurably. She pressed her face into the pillow to drown out the gasps and moans that were slipping from of her mouth without consent.

When he bit down on the crook of her neck with his human teeth, she could barely keep in a cry of pleasure as she melted into an intense orgasm. Spike was forced to stop moving as her inner muscles clamped down on him, so he kept one hand moving on her clit to ease her through the rest of her climax. Again, she seemed to dissolve into the mattress as the afterglow took hold of her. Spike slipped out of her so that he could guide her onto her back. He moved over her and entered her again. Buffy smiled in sleepy satisfaction as she wrapped her legs around him, content to rub his back and arms as he brought himself off. She pulled his lips down for a slow, drowsy kiss whenever she could. All too soon, she thought, Spike shuddered inside her and with a stifled cry, breathed her name as he came. His arms grew tired of holding himself up, and he collapsed on top of her with as much gentleness as he could muster at that moment.

“Love you,” he whispered into her hair as his eyelids began to droop.

Buffy licked the perspiration off of her lip and urged him off of her so that she could breathe without pain. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She extended one weary arm over the side of the bed to retrieve the discarded bedding before allowing him to gather her close. Pulling the blanket over them, he cradled her in the crook of his arm with her head resting on his chest. Spike fell asleep soon afterwards, breathing in his characteristic way. Buffy was left staring at the ceiling with a mixture of shock and contentment, wondering what the heck had just happened. She hadn’t exactly written “Sex with Spike – 5:00 pm” in her day-planner that morning. Even if she had, she still wouldn’t have been prepared for how good it felt – or how necessary. She could still feel her lower abdomen pulsating with satisfaction.

Still, she was in a great deal of pain and ached in places that she’d long forgotten she had. Having sex with Spike while injured was nothing new to her, but still not among her favorite pastimes. Next time – oh God, next time, she thought – would have to be under different circumstances. She was tired of being in pain. Their physical relationship would have to change if it was going to continue, and she suspected he would fully agree with her. She touched his burned chest gingerly, knowing he must be hurting as well. She tried to lift herself off of his chest, but he held her tight in his sleep, and she soon gave up. She sighed and tried to relax – but found no sleep the entire night, worrying about what in the world tomorrow was going to bring.

---------

To be continued.

Chapter 5:

Having lain in bed awake for hours, Buffy was finally beginning to doze off when she heard the front door open downstairs. Giles and the girls were back from their mission, and from the pleased sound of their voices, they had succeeding in accomplishing something significant. Glancing over Spike’s shoulder at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was around midnight. Part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up closer to him and doze, but curiosity over how the battle had gone won out in the end.

Spike had a troubled expression on his face when Buffy pulled herself out of his arms. She sat up and exhaled thankfully as she stretched her limbs out, glad to finally move after lying in one position for so long. She glanced down at her nakedness with a dumbfounded expression, still unable to believe how quickly they’d fallen into bed. She felt ashamed and embarrassed of the way she’d acted, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she was a little excited as well. Most of all, she felt unsure about what to do next. Although they’d spoken briefly about their relationship earlier, she still didn’t know exactly where they stood now.

Buffy had already decided this wasn’t going to be a one-time fling. One thing she was certain of – she wanted to be with Spike. But were they going to embark on another secret affair, or were they actually going to try for a real relationship? Were either of them even ready for such a big step? Her mind couldn’t fathom how it could possibly work. Her friends hated Spike. Dawn was still wary of him and wouldn’t talk to him. Giles and Principal Wood had planned Spike’s murder. The new Slayers found him distrustful. Her father would probably disown her at the first sight of Spike’s bleached hair and sneer. Buffy doubted even her mother would have approved of such a relationship, regardless of her fondness for Spike. Angel would … God, she didn’t even want to think about what Angel would do.

These were people who loved her. People she was supposed to trust to lead her in the right direction. What did that say about Spike?

Not to mention the fact that he’d lost his soul on top of everything else. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Granted, he hadn’t lost it by any fault of his own, nor did he seem pleased about the situation – but the problem was still there. Swallowing with difficulty, she glanced back at him. He looked so innocent as he slept, dark eyelashes thick against his pale cheek. It was easy to forget the lives he’d willingly taken when she knew the goodness he was capable of. They’d forgiven each other so much, but was it foolish to hope that they could be happy together after all the hurt they’d caused each other? After everything they’d been through and everything they inherently were?

He wanted the soul back, but what if it proved impossible to retrieve? Should she continue to be involved with him? Again and again, logic implied that there was no possible way for their relationship to succeed, but since when was anything about Spike logical? He couldn’t be judged that way. If anything, he was anti-logic embodied. He should be elsewhere, gleefully maiming and killing now that he was free from the crush of guilt and the entrapment of his chip. Instead he was asleep in her bed with sour pig’s blood curdling in his belly. It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t ignore that sacrifice – though it seemed so small, for a hungry, injured vampire, it was huge.

Two scenes juxtaposed in her mind: the sight of soulless Spike lying peacefully in the bed beside her – and the night she first made love to Angel and brought about the rebirth of Angelus. The difference between the two vampires was startling. She always suspected that somewhere deep down, Angel must hate her, or Angelus would never have wanted to destroy her. Whether or not that was true or just a manifestation of her own personal insecurity was another matter. But Spike … he just seemed to love her no matter the state of his soul. It confused her terribly and cast a shadow over her feelings for Angel. Still, Spike was no saint. She knew what he was capable of if pushed hard enough.

Spike is going to have to prove himself to me, she decided in the end. But this time, I’m going to give him the chance to do it. He deserves that much, after trying so hard to change. I can’t ignore the fact that he doesn’t have a soul, but I also can’t deny that he’s capable of love and the desire to make himself a better person. God, I hope I’m not making a mistake…

A groan escaped her lips as she rose from the bed. Certain parts of her body tugged and pulled painfully as she reached for her robe. She thought about taking a shower – she certainly needed one – but the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs made her hesitate. Sure enough, the bathroom door shut with a thud a moment later. She sighed in frustration, unable to decide what to do with herself.

“Can’t sleep, pet?” asked a groggy voice behind her.

Not turning around, Buffy quickly pulled the robe on to cover herself. “Not really,” she replied quietly as she tied the sash, her eyes looking everywhere but in his direction. Did he really have to choose that moment to wake up?

“Where are you off to?” he inquired, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the pillows. “I think I’m going to have to start tying you down before we go to bed so you don’t sneak off.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said as pulled her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. “I heard Giles and the girls come home. I was going to go ask how things went.”

“They can wait. Stay with me a little while longer.” When she dared to glance at him, Spike held his hand out to her invitingly. Shaking her head, she backed away from the bed. “What was that you told me a few hours ago? Something about not running away from me after we made love, I think. We weren’t going to fall back into old patterns, remember?”

She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not running away. But I am a little freaked out, I guess.”

Spike crawled over to where she sat and nuzzled the side of her neck. “Yeah?”

She nodded and allowed him to gather her backwards onto his lap. She closed her eyes and rested her head back against him. After over a year of shutting herself off to physical touch, she gladly soaked in every bit she could get.

“You want to slow things down?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Little late for that, don’t you think? Besides, you’re not the easiest person to say ‘no’ to – not to mention the fact that you don’t listen when I do.”

“I do, too.”

“Do not.”

“Do – ow!” he cried as she pinched his leg. “Well you’re just as bad.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “We should work on that.”

Spike picked at the lint on the comforter. “I don’t like it when you shut yourself off to me like this, Buffy. You just scamper off the second you get scared.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” she replied. “I won’t run away, Spike. I want to make this work somehow … but I have to work some things out in my head.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that you don’t have a soul.”

Jaw tensing, Spike fixed his gaze on the floor. “Didn’t seem to bother you much earlier.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said it isn’t bothering me now.”

He looked up at her, blue eyes boring into hers intensely. “You are my soul, Buffy.”

She blinked at him. “That sounds like the lyrics from a lame Michael Bolton song. Possibly Celine Dion.”

“I’m serious,” he pressed. The look in his eyes caused any further remarks to die on her lips. “You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel guilty when I mess up, even though it’s technically impossible for me to feel remorse. You’ve made me turn against my nature and willingly delve into your goody-goody, Golden-Rule driven world of Christmas and puppies. If that isn’t a soul, I don’t know what is.”

For a moment, she couldn’t think of what to say. She’d never really thought about it that way. “I believe you want to be a better person, Spike, and that amazes me about you. Do you have any idea how difficult you make my job as a Slayer? Every vampire I dust, I start to feel guilty, thinking about the path of redemption I might be denying them. But that isn’t realistic. You’re unique. One of a kind.”

“Why do I sense a big ‘but’ coming soon?”

“But,” she continued, “most people don’t get that you’re different. All they see is that you’re a vampire, and all the other vampires they’ve ever encountered have tried to send them to the hereafter. Do you have any idea how people would react if they found out we’re together?”

“Hate to say it, love, but I think most of them have figured we’ve been shacking up for the better part of a week.”

“But they haven’t actually heard it from me. We haven’t come out of the proverbial closet.”

Spike made a face. “Bad metaphor, pet.”

“What I mean is that no one is going to say anything to us until we say something first. And then all their predictable arguments are gonna start coming – and you know what the real kicker is? They’re right – I shouldn’t get involved with a vampire – but you don’t fit that mold anymore. There’s no way they’re going to accept that.”

“They might eventually,” he offered. “You didn’t use to be my biggest fan either, once upon a time.”

“Uh, you mean ‘once upon a month ago’? Okay, so maybe I’ve liked you a little longer than that.” She sighed and put her face in her hands. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe they will understand.”

“Are you kidding?” scoffed Spike. “I was just saying that to make you feel better. If your Watcher doesn’t stake me, Harris will.”

Buffy nodded sadly. “Yeah.”

“So we keep it a secret?”

“I don’t know if I want to. Maybe we just act normal – the way we’ve been acting before we … you know.”

“Made with the smut?” supplied Spike nonchalantly.

Trying unsuccessfully to suppress a blush, she replied, “That’s one way to put it. Maybe everyone will just catch on, and we won’t have to do the whole confrontation thing.” She frowned as Spike burst into laughter. “What?”

“You,” he replied. “You’re adorably naive. But I suppose it’s worth a try, though you can bet there’ll be some confrontation sooner or later.” Pressing his lips to the pulse on her neck, he asked, “So … does this imply actual couple-hood?”

Buffy swallowed hard – no going back after this. “I’m willing to try if you are.” She looked up to see him smiling at her in wonder and adoration. She cupped his cheek affectionately. “But Spike?” she continued hesitantly. “I’d still like you to get your soul back. It … makes me feel safe.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but she thought she saw him wince. “Sure. I’ll talk to Willow about it tomorrow.”

“We should tell Giles, too,” she said. “He can help us do research on the amulet.”

A dark look crossed Spike’s face. “You sure he can be trusted? You do remember what happened a while back, right? Nice little assassination attempt, involving yours truly?”

“I know that he’ll want your soul back in place,” said Buffy. “And he told me earlier that he was wrong about you.”

“Did he, now?” replied Spike suspiciously. “Nice little way to work himself back into high standing with you. Bravo, Rupert.”

Her eyes drifted shut wearily. “Giles can help us, Spike.”

“All right, then,” he agreed, shaking his head unhappily.

Even as she leaned over to give him a kiss of reassurance, Buffy had the horrible feeling she’d hurt him with her words about his soul. But she didn’t know what to do about it – it was the truth. In her mind, the sooner his soul was back in place, the better. Was he having second thoughts about getting it back?

When his hands moved to the ties of her robe, she gently pushed them away. “Not right now. I really want to find out what happened with Giles and the girls.” She pressed one last kiss onto his mouth and rose from his lap. “I’ll be right back, okay? You should try to get some sleep.”

Obediently, he lay back in the bed, but she noticed his eyes followed her every movement as she hastily slipped out of her robe to tug on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Before she left the bedroom, he said, “I love you.”

Her hand hesitated on the doorknob, and she smiled back at him hesitantly. The words ‘I love you, too’ formed on her lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually say them. It seemed more like a reaction to the situation than something she really meant. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.

***

The hall and stairway were packed with excited girls, and the living room was brightly lit with smiles. “I take it things went well,” said Buffy as she came down the stairs.

“Not as well as they could have gone,” Giles reasoned, looking more tired than she’d ever seen him. “The collapse was rather widespread, so it was difficult for us to get around the damage to patrol all the areas.”

“Patrol?” echoed Buffy.

“We couldn’t exactly go down into the crater, could we?” Kennedy said, not looking at them as she practiced spinning a stake in her hand. “So we waited for them to come to us.”

Buffy frowned at her. “And did they?”

“There weren’t many left, truth be told,” replied Giles as he adjusted his glasses. “A sprinkling here and there. I imagine most were crushed in the collapse – not to mention the initial sweep of sunlight from the amulet.”

Faith sauntered up and jabbed Buffy in the side. “I filled Giles in on what went down with Mr. Tall, Blond, and Moody. He kept buggin’ me until I spilled.”

“Yes, well, it was rather important that I know what we were dealing with,” replied Giles coolly. “As I was saying, there weren’t many Turok-Han remaining. Those that were left were leaderless and panicking, not to mention wounded.”

“The hurt ones were the worst,” said Vi with wide eyes. “They fought the hardest, if you ask me.”

“Wouldn’t you, if you were on your last limb?” asked Kennedy.

“Aww, c’mon, girls. That’s what made it fun,” replied Faith. “Not all of them were tough though. You would have laughed if you’d seen them, B. They were falling all over themselves, trying to get away.”

Buffy suddenly wished she hadn’t come downstairs. That old feeling of rivalry was beginning to blossom in her chest again. “So The First didn’t show its face again?” she asked. “Whatever face that might have been at the moment…”

“Not so much,” said Faith. “Looks like we beat it down for awhile. Too bad we can’t kill it for good.”

“I think we’d all feel better if that were possible,” Giles added reluctantly. “But it seems as though we must content ourselves with a partial victory. I admit, I didn’t even expect that until quite recently.” Several people around him nodded in agreement. “But we must remain steadfast in our efforts. We don’t know how many of the enemy escaped our notice tonight, and I imagine that earthquake opened up new areas of the Hellmouth.”

“Gee, I sure love it when you get optimistic like this,” said Buffy with a tight smile. “Makes me all warm and snuggly inside.”

Giles smiled apologetically. “I try.”

“So what are our new orders?” Kennedy asked, giving her stake one last flip before she tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.

“Little bit eager there, huh?” remarked Faith. “You like that new power rushing through your veins, don’t cha?”

“Not bad,” said Kennedy pointedly, “as long as it’s not misused, that is.”

“My orders are to rest tonight,” said Giles quickly, keen to break up the scuffle before it started. “We will regroup tomorrow and discuss what’s to be done. Understood?” Various nods went throughout the group. “Good. Now, off you go.”

As the girls dispersed, Giles turned his attention towards Buffy. “The wounded?”

“With Xander,” she answered. “He took them to a hospital out of town.”

“Good – very good. Xander will need something like that to keep his mind off of Anya’s death. I trust you were able to get some rest today?”

Buffy nodded, blushing furiously.

“You do look as thought you’ve recovered from your injury. Even your coloring has improved,” noted Giles with an approving nod. “I wanted to let you know that I took the opportunity tonight to study that amulet a bit more. I had to stay in one location, you see, so the girls could find me for their orders. Just between you and me, it got rather dull. Well anyway, after studying the runes around the center jewel, I have a few theories about what it might be. I’ll need to cross-reference some books to be certain, though.”

“Really?” asked Buffy eagerly. “Because there’s something I kinda need to tell you. I wonder if I should wait for Spike to wake up, though. It relates to what happened when he wore said amulet.”

Giles frowned. “Spike?”

“You called?” said a sleepy voice. Buffy and Giles looked up to see Spike coming down the stairs, eyeing the second floor disdainfully. His disheveled hair curled wildly about his head, having not seen a hint of gel since his shower. Buffy noticed he wore the same clothes he had discarded on her floor after his shower and was thankful he’d bothered to put them on at all.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked softly, feeling suddenly shy in his presence – as if it was completely obvious what they’d been up to earlier that evening.

“You mean with the sudden rush of teenagers up the stairs and into the bathroom to scrub their pimples?” he asked. “Not so much. Thought we were having another tremor.”

“Buffy says you two have something to tell me?” hinted Giles with a slight air of impatience. The fact that Spike had just descended from Buffy’s room didn’t seem to set well with her old Watcher. “Something that happened when you wore the amulet?”

Spike didn’t so much as blink as he replied, “Soul’s gone.” Then he turned to Buffy and asked, “Any blood left in the fridge? I’m starved.”

Without waiting for an answer, Spike turned and left for the kitchen, leaving Giles gaping in his wake. “The blazes…?”

“It’s okay,” said Buffy, lifting her hands up defensively. “I mean, he’s okay. I’ve already had the ‘you-hurt-anyone-you-die’ talk with him, and he seems fine with it. And look!” She gestured towards the kitchen with a too-bright smile. “He’s getting blood! Blood that comes from a butcher. Animal blood. The kind that’s not human.”

Giles snatched his glasses off of his face so furiously, Buffy was surprised they didn’t snap in two. “Need I remind you what happened when Angel lost his soul? The lives that were lost – not to mention the life of someone who was quite dear to me – because of your persistent failure to see the situation for what it was?”

Buffy seemed to shrink in on herself. “It’s not the same thing, Giles. Spike wants his soul back.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s in the bloody kitchen!” spat Giles furiously.

“No, it wasn’t,” said Spike as he strolled back into the living room, studying a Tupperware bowl from the refrigerator curiously. “But I did find some leftover Mac ‘n Cheese.”

“Spike, no…” Buffy groaned as he shoveled a huge spoonful into his mouth. “That’s weeks old.”

“Yeah. Got a nice zing to it now.” Spike swallowed and turned towards the fuming Giles. “I’ve been thinking – mulling over in my mind exactly what happened down in the Hellmouth. I felt the soul up until Buffy ripped the amulet off of me.” He helped himself to another mouthful of macaroni between sentences, ignoring Buffy’s moan of protest. “Like maybe it relocated itself into the amulet or something.”

“You’re seriously interested in getting it back?” said Giles incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

Spike eyed Giles carefully, showing the first glint of emotion since he’d come downstairs. “That soul belongs to me, Rupert. Why wouldn’t I want it back?”

“Let me think. So you can rape, murder and pillage without remorse?”

Spike feigned a gasp. “Oh right! I’d quite forgotten. Do you think I could trot upstairs and have a go at the girls while they’re brushing their pearly whites? So what if they’re all Slayers? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind donating a few pints.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Be serious, Rupert. You think I’d try something around this lot? Not to mention the fact that she’d kill me without blinking if I set so much as a toe out of line.” He gestured at Buffy, who looked away uncomfortably.

“Yes, because she’s been so hard on you with your mistakes in the past,” said Giles, eying them both scornfully.

“Giles, please…” begged Buffy, pressing a weary hand over her eyes.

The anger on Giles’ face melted slightly when he saw the way her shoulders wilted, but the glare he fixed on Spike had not diminished at all. “Forgive me, but I’m finding it rather difficult to trust you. Not with her or anyone else.”

“Funny,” Spike shot back, “it seems as if you were the one who tried to have me killed. Behind Buffy’s back, too. What was that you were saying about trust?”

“All right, already,” Buffy snapped, stepping in between them. “Giles? If you don’t like that Spike is without a soul right now, then help us figure out a way to get it back. Spike? Shut up. And if either one of you does something behind my back – and I do mean either of you – then I am through with you. For good, this time.”

Leaving her threat hanging heavily in the air, Buffy spun around and huffed up the stairs. Giles and Spike watched her disappear from sight and then glanced at each other. Neither said a word, but the unspoken challenge between them was obvious, even to the girls who had begun filing down the stairs to bed down for the night in the living room. They ducked their heads together and started to whisper loudly. Shooting Giles a final glare, Spike dumped his bowl noisily on the coffee table and thumped up the stairs after Buffy.

----------------

To be continued.
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