Author's Note: Well folks, none of you know me… I'm rather new at this, although I've been writing for a long time. This is my first stab at fanfic, an answer to a challenge issued by Kantayra, 'Making Amends'. By the way, that woman is simply one of the finest Spike/Buffy writers out there. Hands down. Hands all over actually, but that's besides the point ~smirk~

There are so many of us who would have loved to see the end of Season 5 and also Season 6 go off in a completely different direction, and in that light I must thank Kantayra for handing us over the keys to this one. I can see many jumping at the opportunity to tell it like they would have loved to see it. This is my answer to her challenge. Gonna take this baby out for a spin. Promise not to scratch the paint, luv. Anyone wanna come along? ;^) ~ Limerickgirl

oh hey.. about the picture above? I am aware that there's some Season 7 imagery in there, and this picture was never created for this story. I made it at the beginning of the year. It just seemed to fit with the general mood of the beginning of this story, which is an extremely tormented, lamentful Spike. And you know what? I think I'll let his hair go a little. heh.

Disclaimer: All hail Joss Whedon, for he is an original storyteller. Everyone here belongs to him. Well, not me of course... and no, he simply isn't my type. Love his brain though.

Distribution: You like this? Are you sure? If you really insist, drop me a line. I love a bit of banter now and then. limerickgirl@yahoo.co.uk

Timeline: Season 5, The Gift, only Buffy doesn't have to jump... swerves off in a whole new direction from that point. Spike feels a tremendous amount of failure. The beginning is a painful look at Spike's lament for himself, Dawn and Buffy. Despite the outcome, despite the fact that everyone is safe, he loses in that horrendous fall to the earth the one thing that drove him day in and day out... hope. Will Buffy help him find it again? This first chapter is very bleak. The next will be brighter. Promise.

Note: text in italics denotes thoughts or emphasized actions :^)

Story started September, 2003... WIP... Rated NC-17 eventually ;^)
 

Chapter One - Resolutions

 

There are about a million things Spike thinks of as he rushes up the stairs to protect Dawn. To save her. Because that's what he promised. Somebody's up there with her, at the top of that tower, and he can't help but feel that someone's about to make Dawn walk the bloody plank... and he thinks that someone with Dawn smells awfully familiar. Funny though, there's a deeper stink of evil woven in the smell, and it fills him with a rush of excitement, as if putting this being out of commission will certainly afford him a bloody good day indeed. As he approaches the final few steps he hears the familiar voices: Dawn's plea… and him.

"Spike!!" Dawn cries as Spike swaggers towards Doc.

"Doesn't a fella stay dead when ya kill him?" he asks.

"Look who's talking." Doc answers, with little annoyance in his voice. This is, after all, almost over. And quite frankly he isn't surprised by the interruption.

"C'mon Doc, let's you and me have a go." 'Atta boy, Spike, distract him a little longer, sun's comin' up, Hell-Bitch is goin' down, Spike thinks.

"I… do have a prior appointment." Doc says, gesturing to Dawn behind him. She grasps the ropes a little tighter.

"This won't take long…" he says in a quiet, yet mocking tone.

Doc couldn't agree more. "No… well, I don't imagine it will."…

In the seeming eons of time it takes for Doc to lunge at him with the blade Spike thinks there are probably one hundred and forty seven different ways he could do this properly and take Doc down. None of them materialize however and he feels the blade penetrate his back. The shock, more than the pain, of the act makes him scream, and he hears Dawn scream with him. Bollocks. The knife clatters to the ground and Spike manages to stand between Dawn and the demon, who looks at him with great curiosity. The demon sees the aura of protection Spike emits, for this girl of all things, and remarks that he doesn't smell a soul anywhere on him. And why should he even care?

"I made a promise to a lady," Spike answers, and for a brief moment he feels as if he could do this, protect Dawn till the very end, even if that happens to be tonight. Its a brief moment indeed as Doc manages to shift the balance of power one more time and overpowers the Vampire yet again. Spike feels something so unaccustomed to him then... dread.

He casts a final glance at Dawn as Doc grasps him and leans him towards the edge, and he sees her fear. Fear not only for him, but no doubt for herself. He's gripped by the smothering reality that he's leaving her here to die. His mind is frozen in the moment, in her expression, and all he can whisper is… "No." He looks at Dawn as he says this, and all he can think of himself then is…

Failure.

~~*~~

There are about a million things he might like to do differently, Spike thinks, as he sails towards the ground, his life and unlife flashing before his eyes. His fall isn't as quick and punishing as he'd like. He's lingering in the motion of his descent, and his mind is working overtime to bring all his failures to the forefront before he reaches the ground and hopefully impales himself on a nice, sharp piece of timber. He briefly wonders if his explosion into dust would be spectacular looking. Sadly he figures that nobody would even be aware that the dust of his body would be little more than construction dirt, billowing in the commotion of the fight. No, he assumes, nobody would notice. Too bad he couldn't have burst into flames on the way down. Somebody would notice then. Better they shouldn't think about him at all, he figures. And isn't he a selfish bastard?

Failed as a man. Failed as a monster. What's the bloody point worrying about how my dust will look billowing in the wind, so long as it's bloody dusty.

And then, as if rewarded for this brief, clarifying thought, the ground rushes up to meet him. He lands with a terrible impact, a shattering of something more than flesh and bone. There's no convenient piece of lumber jutting through his back. No bursting into dust, or flame. His spirit is utterly destroyed though. He just had to land on a pile of rubble. Couldn't have fallen three feet to the left. Fucks it all up, he does. Couldn't even get the dying part right.

Dawn. He rips his mind away from the incredible pain he feels to think of the girl he left to die, and asks whatever god isn't busy at the moment with the planning of apocalypses to intervene on some level, and help her. She's a precious thing in his eyes. Totally innocent, totally worthy of enjoying some sort of life that doesn't involve locks and keys, portals and dimensions. How he wishes he could have spent more time with her. It seemed she always had time for him. He meant what he said when he promised to protect her. On some level he loves her as well. Like a little sis, she is. She's her little sis. He wanted so desperately to protect them both.

Buffy. He chokes back his tears when he thinks of his golden warrior goddess. His ray of sunshine, for that's what she is to him. The most incredibly radiant woman he has ever seen. His heart breaks even deeper as he thinks of her. Surely, if she were still alive, she'd hate him now. And he wouldn't blame her in the least. He hates himself now, and didn't think that would ever be possible. For a brief moment he thinks he should hate her for the fact that he's so helplessly in love with her. For the fact that she trusted him, relied on him... god, what was she thinking?

And why can't the fucking ground just open, and swallow him up. Because if Buffy is alive he doesn't think he could bare to see her hatred, no matter how much he thinks he deserves it. If he could just keep their last conversation in his mind, lie to himself that in some small way he mattered, he could greet the sunrise and storm into hell with fewer regrets. Because there's always regrets. Surely there had to have been a hundred and forty seven different ways to save her. And he couldn't think of one.
 

~~*~~

Buffy begins her charge up all those steps to Dawn. Her body literally hums with the rush of defeating Glory, but also of sparing Ben. She's kept her vow not to take a human life, and although she hears the warning bells ring in the back of her mind that indeed, Glory would most definitely return one day to wreak havoc on the Hellmouth, she feels the weight of the world slowly lifting off her shoulders… easing ever so slightly. All she needs to do now is get Dawn down from there. And wasn't that Spike she saw out of the corner of her eye charging up the steps just a few minutes before?

Her heart clenches just a little as she thinks of him. He's sacrificed so much for her. She can't let this go unrewarded. She must let him know, and the others as well, that he matters, in some way, that he has a place there with them. She'll get up there, find Dawn in the comforting arms of the vampire, her friend, and together they'll bring her down. And I could maybe hug him just a little, because, hey, friends here! she thinks, a smile tugging ever so slightly at her lips.

As she reaches the final steps her thoughts and hopes are shattered, for the bleached vampire is nowhere in sight, and a strange little man is standing ever so close to Dawn…

"Buffy," Dawn whimpers.

Doc swings around to meet the slayer, his blade at the ready, but before he can even say a word Buffy surges towards him and in one fluid motion, sends Doc flying off the tower.

"Buffy, he stabbed Spike! And he threw him over the side! Oh my god!!" Dawn cries. "He tried to save me, Buffy! Where is he?? Did you see him?"

"Dawnie, we need to get you down from here, are you hurt?" Buffy asks as she feels around for injuries, not yet noticing the slash across the fabric covering Dawn's stomach.

"He cut me…" she whispers, and Buffy's face turns white. Can't let her bleed. 'Cause it's always got to be blood, she remembers Spike saying. Quick! Think! Buffy moves the fabric away for a moment, searching for the stream of blood that must no doubt be making it's way down Dawn's stomach. She surveys the horizon and sees that the sunrise is close… if she could just stop the bleeding.

Dawn feels a trickle down her leg and is gripped by the sadness that perhaps it's too late and this is really happening. Somewhere inside she's been preparing herself for this moment. She knows that if her blood hits the fabrics that separate the dimensions it's all over till she dies.

"Buffy, my leg… the blood, it's…" Buffy lifts the dress and wipes up the blood that is so dangerously close to falling. Tears off her white sweater and presses it into the wound on Dawn's stomach. Releases Dawn and lifts her, rushing towards the steps and hopefully, safety. "Please let Spike be OK," Dawn whispers, tears streaming down her face. Buffy's heart aches as she runs with Dawn down to the others, oh he's just gotta be ok, she thinks, can't go through all this with me and then up and bite it… ooh, bad word usage… or is that punnage? What's a little fall for a vampire anyway? She amends that thought, OK, big fall… still, not gonna die! Right?

Spike…

~~*~~

The world comes crashing back to Spike when he hears a tremendous thud! close by. Dust flies up his nose from the impact and he curses himself as he feels the scratchy dirt gather at the back of his throat.... buggers up his awful habit of breathing, it does. Great. He opens his eyes and is momentarily shocked to see the twisted form of Doc lying before him, motionless, not three feet away.

"Well, will you look at that?" Spike mumbles to nobody in particular, and sure, nobody in particular is nearby anyway… probably all huddled over the bleeding and broken bodies of Dawn and Buffy, he imagines.

Spike judges the distance between them in terms of arms lengths, and determines that if he could just inch his way forward, just a bit, he could wrap his cold, dead knuckles around Doc's throat, and meet his death with an extra ounce of dignity. He's rewarded somewhat when he sees a flicker of movement from the demon's body. For a moment he wonders if Doc is lying here in a heap before or after he's cut Dawn to shreds and his anger surges to the surface. He's so enraged at the scrobie little demon, he'd love to reach out and snap his stalky little neck. Gotta move, Spike… just a few inches, mate.

Spike makes a move to crawl closer to Doc's body, eager for that satisfying snap! of his neck, only the pain associated with this seemingly simple action is blinding. He reaches his arm out toward his enemy and wants to scream bloody murder when only his fingertips brush against the demon's still form. Christ all FREAKING mighty! Gotta move! Gotta rip this one to shreds! Casting Doc a hateful glance, Spike decides to gather up a little more strength and then try again. Surely the fall would have totally immobilized Doc, and although he'd prefer to greet the sunrise killing something, he'll give the vampiric healing just a few more minutes. Surely he has a few more minutes?

"Look at you, all battered and broken," the demon sneers. Spike, full of shock, opens his eyes, only to be greeted by Doc's beady black ones. "Too bad you couldn't save her, vampire, but full points for effort."

Spike snorts and gives Doc an awful leer. "I'm thinkin', you down here all flattened and messy must mean she's still up there, alive and well. At least, you had better hope she is…"

"Oh, she isn't though. You see, I bled her," Doc smiles at Spike's disgusted expression. "Oh yes, I sliced her… in fact, I made a pretty pattern on her stomach. Kinda looked like a Z, like Zorro," Doc says proudly, albeit quietly.

Spike lashes out at the demon with all his might, blinding pain be damned. He grasps Doc's coat and tries to tug him towards himself. He'd like to smash in his disgusting little face with his other fist, but he can't lift his other arm at all. He lets go for a moment, hoping to instead grab him by the neck, wanting so desperately to crush his spine in his grasp, but Doc uses that brief moment of freedom to squirm away.

"No, no, no, NO!!" Spike screams as he reaches out his hand, leaving it linger in the air as he watches Doc slither away. "No…" he whispers then, smacking his hand down on the rubble, grasping the dirt, and feels the incredible burden of failure again. Fuck! He looks at Doc's retreating form one more time and in his darkest moment, as if by some miracle, a large chunk of concrete tumbles from the side of the building, landing squarely on Doc's head. The sound of the demon's brains splattering and spraying the area should be satisfying to Spike, but he's so consumed by his self-defeat that he can't take pleasure, and that truly is the final straw.

Spike glances at the sky and sees as well as feels the approaching sunrise. He's so completely demoralized that he doesn't notice the fact that there is no gaping portal churning above them, no Hell beasties crawling up from the boiling depths. In what Spike is sure will be his final act, he decides to roll himself over and greet the morning sun. He feels it coming up behind him, ever so close, and this kiss of death is now so totally welcome he is nearly relieved by it. He closes his eyes and painfully shifts his weight, rolls over, eager to feel the burning sun… and groans when he feels nothing. Spike frowns and opens his eyes, only to be greeted by the concerned expressions of Giles, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Buffy and Dawn. They're gathered around him, standing so closely together as to make sure he isn't touched by the rays of the morning sun.

~~*~~

"Spike?" Tara asks, worry so evident in her voice.

Spike closes his eyes, doesn't really want to answer. Leave me alone.

"What should we do? Can he hear us?" Dawn asks, crying again. The sound of her voice jars him momentarily from his self-made mental dungeon and he opens his eyes again slowly, if only to look at her for a moment. Gotta know she's OK. He sees her there, leaning on Buffy, careful to keep close to her so the rays of the sun can't peek between their bodies and scorch him. He notices that her dress is torn up to her knees and gasps as he sees a trickle of blood rapidly making it's way down to her foot. As if in slow motion he watches the blood slide down past the curve of her ankle and holds his unneeded breath as it touches the ground. And he realizes finally in that moment when the blood pools at her foot, that the danger is truly over and Dawn is indeed OK, that Doc didn't succeed. He looks at Buffy then and realizes that surely Glory must be dead as well and he finally lets the breath out slowly, closing his eyes once more.

She's bleeding 'cause of me, he thinks, 'cause I let her down. I let Buffy down. Let Dawn get hurt, he chastises himself. PLEASE go away!! he wants to scream.

"Spike, it's OK. We're OK." Buffy assures him, as if she knows what's churning through his head. She knows better than anyone that all Spike's concerned with now is that Dawn is alright. "Spike, please… you have to get up, you have to find shelter," she says as she gestures towards the threatening sun.

Spike chuckles at this. "Can't you lot appreciate a good death when you see one?" Would you all just piss off and let me die already? Let me catch the next strong breeze out of here.

Xander seems irritated by his remark. "Well, normally I'd have no problems with you meeting a dusty demise, Bleach Boy… but you took a fall for Dawn," Xander swallows hard, looks at the others, and then back at him, "And that means something." Xander hates to admit it, but Spike's earned a sliver of respect this evening, and perhaps he could cut him a bit of slack, even if it's just for tonight.

Spike hears someone else crying and is shocked to see Tara looking at him so sadly, tears streaking down her face. Poor Glinda, he thinks, you've had such a rough go of it, luv. Please don't bloody well cry for me.

"Help me move him," Giles says to the others, "over there… bit of an alcove, you see? It'll do for now." They carefully bend down, making sure to keep him sheltered from the sun and grasp him tightly. "Sorry, mate," Giles whispers somewhat apologetically as he grasps Spike's broken leg. Shooting pains cause him to bite back a moan as they begin to shift him out of the sunlight, shading him as they slide him along the ground. Once he is safely huddled in the alcove they straighten him out and he thinks to himself that he looks like a dead man all laid out for his grave. Already bloody dead, he chides himself, coulda been deader, but no. Bloody humans and their bloody pointless compassion.

"Tara, Willow, I want you to stay with him. He's bleeding severely. Buffy, Xander, take Dawn and Anya to the hospital. I'll make sure there's nothing evil left lurking," Giles instructs, and then looks at Spike, "Well, evil and threatening at any rate." Spike clenches his teeth, the taut muscles of his jaws flexing under his skin. That's right, mate, go on then, have a good laugh while yer at it. Giles waits for the snide remark from Spike that on a normal day would be forthcoming very quickly from such an insult and is surprised by Spike's silence. It more than surprises him actually, and he's disturbed by the momentary desire to let Spike know that he's done well by them this evening, but he lets it go. He thinks he may still do that later though, but for now he has to attend to Ben . He knows Buffy spared him, and he has to go and rectify that mistake once the others have left.

~~*~~

When the others leave, Willow and Tara kneel down and begin the task of checking Spike's injuries. He's losing blood, probably from bones jutting through skin, Willow thinks, and she shudders at the thought. She removes her sweater and shivers slightly, partly because of the cool morning air, and partly due to the incredible tribulations they've all just overcome, when they were sure that some of them wouldn't see morning. She watches Giles walk away, heading to the area where Glory had been and she feels the need to follow. She only has to look at Tara with a worried expression and her lover gives a gentle nod, permission in a sense to leave her tend to Spike and follow Giles.

Willow looks longingly at Tara, the love she thought she'd lost, and kisses her lips so softly. "I'll be back in a minute, baby. Don't go away?"

"Never," Tara answers her as she cups Willow's cheek in her warm palm, her beautiful eyes showing her how desperately she missed her… Never, ever again, she vows as she watches Willow carefully stroll away.

~~*~~

Willow watches as Giles approaches the terribly beaten body of Ben and gasps when she sees that he's still alive. Her mind reels at the implications of this because she knows that if Ben lives, then Glory could return. She knows that Buffy must have spared him, for she could never take a human life, but at what cost? Willow is gripped by the sudden desire to call forth the Hell bitch once more and this time shatter her into a million pieces. She knows she couldn't be so murderous though if that Hell bitch wore Ben's face.

Giles kneels down beside the young man who is now struggling for breaths, but breathing nonetheless, and Willow comes a little closer. She doesn't want Giles to see her, but she's gripped by a staggering curiosity as to what Giles will do. She hears Giles talk quietly, almost comfortingly to Ben, sees him take off his glasses, clean them as he often does when he talks. She hears him tell Ben that Buffy is not like them, that she could never take a human life, because she's a hero. Willow starts to cry as she watches the watcher. She knows what he's about to do, and despite the voice in the back of her mind that screams Murder! she knows it has to be this way.

Giles smothers Ben with his hand. There is no hatred on his face, no anger in his voice, and as Ben struggles and grasps Giles' jacket, Willow cries for them both.

She moves away then and hides behind a pillar and gathers herself together. It isn't long before Giles comes around the corner and sees her. He wonders if she's seen what he had to do for them all, for humanity, but before he has a chance to say anything he finds himself wrapped in Willow's arms. He doesn't know if she's comforting him, or the one needing comfort, but he hugs her tightly and strokes her hair.

Willow keeps his secret. "Ben?" she asks.

"He's dead," he replies. "Nobody could survive the injuries he sustained Willow."

"I know," she answers quietly, and hugs him tighter.

Giles looks around at the wreckage of it all. "All these bodies… good lord."

Willow surveys the disaster area they're standing in and remarks that this just looks like another typical accident on the Hellmouth.
 

~~*~~
 

"Don't need your help, pet, but thanks ever so," Spike mutters, a frown hiding the fact that a sick part of him is enjoying Tara's caring touch, even if he thinks she is terribly misguided to be paying him any attention at all.

"Don't be silly… you're so broken Spike. Even your injuries have injuries." This nets an angry growl from the vampire.

"Just leave. Really, luv… just wanna be left alone." Spike hisses as she ties a torn strip of Willow's sweater above the broken bone sticking out above his knee. She's not any good with the whole field medicine deal, she figures, but she knows enough to apply pressure there to stop the bleeding. She wishes Giles and Willow would hurry up and get back. Giles would know what to do about his broken bones. She decides that Spike's emotional injuries are much worse than his physical ones though, and she knows how to deal with those.

"You shouldn't be left alone, Spike. None of us should."

"Yeah? Well I'm not one of your precious Scoobies, am I? Was just here for the girl, nothing more." God he doesn't need this right now. Soddin' compassion from the good witch makes him terribly uneasy. Maybe it's the fact that of all of them, besides Dawn of course, he knows she cares whether he unlives or re-dies.

"Of course you're one of us," she huffs, and Spike's surprised by her candour. Last thing in the world he wants is to be a member of the Superfriends. He's always gonna be on the outside. That's just the way it has to be.

Tara gently wipes the blood from the side of his face, and the tenderness of the act makes him shut his eyes that much tighter. For a brief moment he wishes its Buffy there with him, cleaning his wounds, making him comfortable, making him whole again. But the thought is ever so brief. She'll never show him that type of tenderness, because he's a monster. Plain and simple. And he let Dawn get hurt. No, there's no room for Old Spike on her comfort wagon. Better shelve that thought, mate.

At that moment Spike makes a decision. He may have survived this ordeal. He'll walk away from these injuries, just like he always does. He'll mend his broken bones and recover his battered pride, but he'll make sure to bury his broken heart. Oh he'll help Buffy alright, if she needs him. He'll always enjoy a good kill. But he'll draw the line right there and keep his traitorous heart out of it.
 

Author's Note: Here's Chapter Two... enjoy :^)

Disclaimer: *ahem* mi mi mi...

There once was a fellow named Joss
It's no wonder they call him the boss
See he owns all the Scoobies
Sure, they're worth more than rubies
If he sued me, I'd suffer such loss!

In other words, Joss, don't… please? Good golly geeze that was a pathetic limerick, even for me!
 

Distribution: You like this? Are you sure? If you really insist, drop me a line. I love a bit of banter now and then. limerickgirl@yahoo.co.uk

Timeline: Season 5, The Gift, only Buffy doesn't have to jump... swerves off in a whole new direction from that point. This chapter is about retribution... Buffy sees Spike in a whole new light, those wonderful biker demons make an appearance, and Buffy unwittingly gets a taste of her own medicine.

Note: text in italics denotes thoughts or emphasis :^)

Story started September, 2003... WIP... Rated NC-17 eventually ;^)
 

Chapter Two - Retribution

Buffy stands at the gates of the cemetery, Spike's cemetery, and pauses. He's been so distant the past two weeks, making with the less-than-small talk, more like no talk, and he's avoided the Magic Box like the plague, which is so not like him. There's always something good to steal down in storage, and it actually really bothers her that he's not even attempting to pilfer stuff anymore…and why isn't he back to his usual biting, snarky humor already? And what's with the Dawn avoidage? OK, he's been kinda hurting, what with being stabbed and the how-the-mighty-have-fallen experience… has to be a bit of an ego wrecker, given, but hey, he's been patrolling, so what's the big? How the mighty have fallen… she decides that was an awfully unfair thing to think, but sadly, maybe it's a proper assessment. And not just of the vampire's life at this moment… maybe he's felt that way all along… well, since the chip anyway.

Buffy decides that the best thing is to try to talk to Spike tonight, let him know that he has to lighten up a bit, get back into the old routine with her and everything will be alright, maybe even better than alright. Since he did so much to help them battle Glory her opinion of Spike has changed. She feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards him, and even more than that… when she was fighting Glory she thought of all the people she cared for, the people she couldn't bare to be without, and it struck her as she was rushing up to rescue Dawn that Spike was one of those people. When she didn't see him up there with Dawn she felt such fear for him, and suddenly so much regret at not having given him more than her insults and disgusted looks. Those few moments they had at her house, when he was at the bottom of the stairs and telling her he knew she'd never love him, made her realize that he wasn't an evil, disgusting thing. Well, evil maybe, but not so much. Big Bad, yes indeed, she smiled as she thought she'd never take that from him, no matter how much kindness or support he showed. She wanted to tell him that night that no, he isn't disgusting, and definitely not a monster. She can see that now. Perhaps deep down she always has.

She makes her way slowly through the gravestones, looking for any newcomers this evening… may as well kill two birds with one stone she figures, or one stake? Yeah, that sounds better in the Buffy train of thought. She can rustle up some dust here, and up the Sunnydale air pollution factor just a notch… then check in with the wayward vamp, see if he wants to patrol. Sounds like a plan, she figures.

Unfortunately for Buffy Restfield is rather restful and despite a thorough sweep, there are no fledglings tonight. She finds herself standing in front of Spike's crypt, prepared for a chat before patrolling the other Sunnydale vampire hangouts. Before she bursts in, her usual method of calling by, she wonders if maybe that style of entrance hasn't just totally become old. It's not like she has to catch him out, or off guard. She knows that usually he's aware of her presence, long before she's even at his door. Yes, the icky I-can-smell-you-coming-from-a-mile-away issue. That vampire factoid wigs her more than just a little, but she shelves the thought. Better to turn over a new leaf in regards to Spike. Gonna knock, like normal people do. She rolls her eyes then, because, hello! nothin' normal here! And for the first time in a long time, she thinks she doesn't mind it that way.

~tap tap tap~ "Spike?" Buffy opens his crypt door just enough to peek her head in. Doesn't want to be rude. She frowns when she doesn't get an answer and can't see him. It's actually kinda dark. He hasn't lit his usual plethora of candles, and isn't that strange? Kinda gloomy. "Oh, Spiii-iiike," she calls in an unfamiliar fashion, "Where art thou?" Checks the darkest corner of his crypt, opens the fridge and notices a lack of blood. Buffy kicks an empty bottle in the darkness and jumps at the clatter it makes. She notices light coming from the lower area of his crypt and ventures towards what she mentally refers to as, the Dungeon.
 

~~*~~

There's nothin' quite like a hot shower first thing in the evening. Spike stands under the steady stream of borrowed hot water and inwardly thanks his sharp negotiating skills for this wonder of technology. He's kinda proud of the fact that he'd managed to strike a deal with the groundskeeper of this reasonably alright cemetery. He replays the rather stellar discussion of diplomacy they had, before the tower incident, in his mind as he pours the shampoo in his palm and then lathers his hair, enjoying the feel of his fingers on his scalp.

"So I let you have the water, what's in it for me?"

Spike arches the eyebrow... yes, that eyebrow,"You're next breath?"

"Alrighty then. Sounds uh, reasonable enough."

"Better believe it, mate. Now hook me up!"
 

Ahhh he had plans for this shower. He was gonna woo Buffy right and proper back then. Back before the whole de-invite misunderstanding. He was sure that at some stage she'd recognize his wit and stunning charm, and after a few rounds with the beastie-slaying, the dance, sure, she might come around. He was so confident back then that she felt something for him. Something other than disgust. Well, alright. It may have involved lewd thoughts, like for instance, she felt complete and utter self loathing, because she was secretly lusting after his lean, smashingly handsome body. Yes, and although there was loathing involved in that scenario, it wasn't directed at him. And that there was his crumb… back then, that was it. But then, he goes and fucks it all up by chaining her up and presto! Best laid plans... oh so NOT laid he is, and left wanting.

Spike groans when he thinks of all his failures once more. Suddenly the shower is not so pleasant, and all the thoughts he's churning through his guilt addled brain aren't helping his mood. He'd like nothing more than to feel the freedom to really blow this joint, this town, Sunnydale, the bane of his bloody existence. As much as he wishes it though, to be able to walk away with some dignity, he's bound by his pointless promise. To protect her. Geeze what was he thinking? Look how well that promise went over when it really counted? Bloody failed her big time, let her bleed. What a useless git.

The shower suddenly loses it's appeal. The healing, renewing qualities of the hot water are lost on his frigid heart, and all he can do is hold himself up, and finish cleaning himself off. Like a robot, he is, completing an essential task, nothing more, nothing emotional. And maybe it's just better that way.
 

~~*~~

Buffy quietly descends the steps that lead to the lower chamber and frowns when she hears running water. Maybe there's a leak somewhere, she thinks. Boy that's all Spike needs now. At the bottom of the steps she's greeted by soft candle light and the smell of… shower gel? And then she barely sees it, just around the corner toward the entrance to the tunnels. There's an alcove of sorts, a perfectly carved out area in the stone and that's where the running water must be. She can certainly hear it much more clearly now.

She approaches the alcove and gasps when she sees him. Well, half of him, as he's partially hidden by the stone wall. Still the half she sees leaves her breathless, speechless and utterly searching for even two brain cells to rub together so that she can tell her feet to move away quickly. Her terribly stubborn heart refuses to allow the connection though and so she stares, mouth agape at the delicious site in front of her. If he senses her, he doesn't show it. He remains under the stream of water, his forehead resting against the stone, his left arm slightly stretched out above his head, also resting against the wall.

Buffy thinks that all of the statues and all of the paintings of Greek Gods and Roman Heroes pale considerably against the site before her. She allows her eyes to roam his powerful form, starting with the top of his head. The water flattens out his hair and she can see dark roots underneath the platinum locks. She settles her eyes on the nape of his neck where hair meets skin and she wonders what it would be like to touch it again. She's never forgotten Willow's 'My Will Be Done' spell, and those few hours she explored places such as that one on his body. She remembers running her fingers along that particular spot, loving the way his skin was so soft just there. She had thought she'd love to bestow a ridiculous amount of feather kisses to that very place. There were times when she'd wake from dreaming of him, that they were back in the grasp of the spell, and she'd be utterly breathless and full of yearning, chastising her traitorous heart for allowing such a thing.

Swallowing hard at the thought, she lets her eyes fall to his powerful shoulder and watches the muscles flex as he leans in a little closer to the wall. Eyes still descending, they settle on his sharp hip and then his incredibly gorgeous ass. Well, half of his incredibly gorgeous ass. Suddenly she realizes that if she would just take one step to the left she'd get to see the whole package.

Buffy licks her lips.

She remains firmly planted on the spot but tears her eyes away from that heavenly looking left ass cheek and gazes longingly at his strong, lean left leg. God she'd love to run her fingers up that thigh, possibly followed by her tongue. She suddenly feels the room temperature soar, and NOT from the shower. Her skin begins to glow with her arousal and she snaps her attention away from him then.

Oh my god. I have to get out of here. I SO should NOT be here. I should be other places. NOT here. Need to get home! To a very cold shower! NOW.

She's back up those stairs and out of that crypt so fast she thinks it must be a record. Sure she's bolted from Spike's crypt before, but never like this. Suddenly everything's a little murky… she knows she should probably be totally disgusted with herself, in fact she waits for the disgust to well up, only it doesn't come. C'mon disgust… show me the ickies… I'm ready. Nothing. She's absolutely not disgusted. Oh boy, her mind sighs. Now, now, her heart argues. Disgust took a permanent vacation a long time ago Buffy, and you know it.

Yeah, she really does.
 

~~*~~

Spike lets go the unneeded breath he's been holding the entire time she was there. Bloody hell. Why couldn't he have waited to take the shower after patrolling? And why the hell was she there earlier than usual? He wanted to take off when he first sensed her, but she was down there so fast, and he couldn't just step out in all his glory, she certainly would have staked him. Or at least treated him to a smorgasbord of biting insults. So he remained as still as possible. And Christ, but did she ever linger! Not like the slayer at all, that. Before a grin can even take hold on his lips he pushes it away. He's not worthy of her, and so she got a bit of a jolly looking at him. She'd get that from a magazine too. Nothing but a body here… and a right pathetic one at that.

Spike decides he's not in the mood for patrolling tonight. He has a much better idea. It's a little early in the evening, alright, but he's in the mood for a drink so he'll head to Willy's… stock up on a bit of A- while he's there. He dries off and then dresses quickly, off for a decent drink and maybe a good brawl. That always improves his spirits. The slayer can patrol with the Scoobies tonight, actually. Not much going on in SunnyD these days anyway, now that the Hell Bitch is gone.
 

~~*~~

"You're home early," Dawn says casually as Buffy walks in.

"No big creepies around really," Buffy answers quickly, making for the stairs. And a VERY cold shower.

"So, uh, I guess you didn't see Spike, then?" Dawn asks kinda sheepishly.

If it's even possible, Buffy blushes a shameful shade of screaming cherry! and turns away quickly, examining an interesting spot on the carpet. "Well, uh… see I w-went there, but, you know, he wasn't home. So I really didn't stick around…" And I didn't see half of his gorgeous ass either, she amends to herself, sarcasm clearly evident in her little inner voice.

"Oh. Well I was thinking that, you know, if it was OK with you, I'd go and visit him tomorrow. Because, really, he hasn't been around much, and I kinda miss him."

"Acres and acres of no," Buffy answers as she pictures Dawn descending the stairs of his crypt and finding naked Spike in all his glory… and hey! If anyone's gonna see naked Spike, it's got to be me! She mentally slaps herself then. Must. Shower. Now.

"As opposed to, you know, a world of No? Because I'm thinkin' you're leaving a little room there for negotiation." Dawn is pleased with herself for the quick comeback. She was mentally prepared for a universe of No actually, so this is a bit of a turn up for the books.

"Dawnie," Buffy sighs, "you really shouldn't. You know it creeps me out. And besides, Spike comes around all the time… usually. Just, uh, not these days, but… well I'm sure he'll get back into his whole I'm-gonna-be-the-pain-in-your-ass routine sooner or later." Sooner, she hopes.

"Maybe we should invite him over? I mean, wouldn't be a nice gesture if we…"

"Dawn," Buffy interrupts with a warning tone, then softens somewhat when she realizes that of all of them, Dawn is closest to the vampire. Naturally she'd want to see how he is. Make sure he's alright. "Look, he's hurting, OK? He's been through a rough spell, Dawn. He's still mending, and it's probably better if we just leave him alone… give him some time. He'll come around eventually."

"Sure, whatever. I guess that's what you're best at anyway isn't it? Leaving people alone? Let everyone get on with it all by themselves, because, hey… it's not like you'd take even five minutes to talk to him, let alone listen."

"I listen… to Spike, a-and other people too. I'm a good listener! I'm a good shoulder to cry on and I have this really supportive ear!" She points to said body parts for emphasis. "I'm supportive Buffy!" Dawn has totally got her facts wrong, she decides, and hey, that hurt!

Dawn backs down. "OK then, prove it. I say we start having non-slaying related get-togethers. I'm talking, get-all-our-friends-together, talk about all sorts of stuff, watch movies… oh hey! Movie night! We SO don't do that anymore."

Buffy likes the Dawn train of thought, "Ooh, and games! We could play games too…"

"Like Life, and Monopoly! But Anya would totally cheat… still, there's others,"

"Scattergories." Buffy grins, that one is definitely her favourite. Plenty of fun word usage there.

Dawn squeals with delight. "Oh! Can we use swear words?"

"Dawn!"

"What?" Then Dawn has a revelation. "Oh my god! You can invite Spike! I bet he'd have a field day with that game! I can see it now…" She rattles off the many Spikeisms in her mind. Oh yeah, he'd win every round.

"Yes, we'll invite Spike." Buffy says as she makes her way upstairs. "I'll mention it to him tomorrow night." Buffy tries not to think of naked Spike as she heads up to the shower. And she'll definitely block all mental images of naked Spike tomorrow night when she goes to rustle him up for slayage. She just hopes she'll be able to keep naked Spike out of her dreams tonight. That could be a toughie. And what's with the grinning? Bad Buffy!

 

~~*~~

Spike isn't at his crypt when Buffy calls 'round the following night. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or concerned. On the one hand she isn't faced with a shower scene, which is SO not gonna happen again! On the other hand, he's supposed to help her patrol, and hello! Alone here! Buffy mentally chides herself. She never needed anyone to help her patrol before, so technically, she doesn't really need him… but still! Maybe I'll check Willy's she decides, after looking in his fridge, the desire to know he has enough blood playing on her mind.

"Willy's it is," she says as she leaves, carefully, politely shutting the crypt door behind her.

 

~~*~~

Spike stumbles into Willy's holding a paper bagged empty bottle and slumps at the bar. Willy gives him the once over and raises an eyebrow, not so sure he should say what he needs to say.

"Jack," Spike mumbles and smacks his free hand down on the counter. "Oh, an' 'ere's an empty for your collection."

Willy takes the empty and bins it. "Spike, man… this is like, the umpteenth night in a row, bud. What's with you?"

"Don't wanna talk, jus' wanna drink, now hand it over!" Spike growls and flashes Willy a bit of fang and grrrr. "An' I'm not your bud. 'm nobody's bud."

"Look man, I know you're good for it, but word gets out I'm doin' you of all creatures favors? I'm gonna get me a rep, and that, my friend, I don't need." Willy rolls his eyes when he's met with Spike's yellow ones and figures it's better to avoid a scene.

Spike grabs the bottle of JD and the glass Willy's so reluctantly handing over happily makes his way over to a quiet corner. Got more than bones need mending, he thinks. "Jus' you an' me, Jack. Good ole' Jack. Been places we have, lotsa different places. Hot places… an' cold places… been all over. Fuck it's been too long since we had a good all-monther. Miss them days of drunken de-debauchery. Yeah… those were the days, alright."

As he rambles on and on to his bottle of Jack Daniels, Spike's unaware of the group of demon bikers across the bar watching him. Doesn't see the bets go down and the money change hands. They're out for him, and he's drinking himself into a stupor.
 

~~*~~
 

Meanwhile, Dawn is into a little planning. Tara and Willow are over with her while Buffy patrols tonight and she tells them about her stellar idea.

"Buffy said we could start having movie nights again. And, oh my god! We could have game nights too… won't that be fun?"

"Uh, yes… fun all around sweetie. That's um, great! Games…" Willow is surprised by Dawn's excitement over these types of things sometimes, but then it has been a tremendously stressful time for the Summers girls, perhaps this is just what they need.

"And Buffy said we could invite Spike! He is SO totally gonna kick everyone's ass at Scattergories."

Tara giggles. She can definitely picture going a few rounds with Spike in that game. She gives Willow's hand a squeeze and Dawn a warm smile. "I think that's a great idea."

"Yeah, it'll help bring Spike out of his mood. He's so glum! I mean, I tried to visit him the other day, oh and please DON'T tell Buffy, cuz she'd go all Jackie Chan on me, but anyway, he told me to go away. Me! Of all people! He like, totally adores me, and he told me to scram. I can't believe it."

"He's just mending Dawnie. He's having a tough time getting over the whole Glory deal. He'll be alright,"

"Yeah, and movie and game nights are gonna go a long way to help. You'll see." Willow hopes that this will help the vamp, and the others to heal.
 

~~*~~

"Oh this is wrong! All wrong!!" Anya fusses as she rifles one handed through receipts. "Who did this?? My god, this receipt from the 18th is filed in with the receipts of the 12th! This is SO not on!"

"Ahn, honey, let's use our quiet voices this evening shall we? Particularly when we're discussing Giles' filing practices." Xander has had to put up with a grumpy Anya for two weeks now, and although he loves her to bits, his patience is teetering on non-existent.

"Excuse me, but I didn't file those receipts… you hired Dawn to help you Anya, remember?" Giles probably should have taken Anya's angry remark with a grain of salt, but like Xander, his patience was ever so thin. And besides, Dawn wasn't there… and it's not like Xander would blab.

"Oh… well, don't mind me. I can tell you're both just chomping at the bit to snap at me." They both give her those patented, "Who me?" looks. "Oh come on. Anyway, I'm just so frustrated, what with this stupid cast and all. Really! It's such a hindrance!"

"Honey, you're doing just fine. And the Doctor said you'd get it off in a couple weeks."

"Well that's easy for you to say. It gets in the way of everything! I can't type, I can't wash the dishes, I can't use the cash register the way I'd like, and worst of all, it totally throws me off in bed! I mean, what a mood killer! It's taking the pleasure out of sex!"

Giles groans and Xander blushes. They both saw this coming, and mentally kick themselves that they even think this way at all, but with Anya around, sex is almost always gonna be a topic of some part of the conversation.

"What? I can talk about sex if I want to! I'm so hard up!"

"Ahn, honey."

"I'm having the worst orgasms ever! And you're just not pleasuring me the way you normally would!"

"Anya," Xander's voice takes on that tone.

"It's like you're afraid to hurt me or something!"

"Honey, sex talk at home, shop talk at shop. Seems simple enough to me."

"Oh, you just don't understand. I feel like I'm losing major lust points in the sack, Xander. It affects my orgasms! And you should never underestimate the importance of orgasms. I mean, look at me! I'm so stressed!" She has a good look at Giles. "You know, you really should find yourself a woman. You look even more desperate than me."

"Says the woman who has sex every night!" Xander huffs and Giles groans.

"Dear lord… I think I'll go measure the dust on those very, very old tomes downstairs."

"Oh don't act like sex isn't important. You know it is. I mean, I can point out the people who aren't gettin' any in a heartbeat. And you Giles, are one of them."

"Why thank you Anya, it's nice to be made feel desperate and old. Perhaps I should just skip past retirement and check myself into the bloody rest home now, while I still have my faculties."

Anya rolls her eyes. "All I'm saying is that if you, maybe Buffy, and definitely Spike were, you know, getting some, we'd all be a happier bunch."

"When did this conversation turn from your desperation to Buffy's? And Spike's?" Xander looks thoroughly confused.

"And mine, apparently?" Giles is right there with Xander.

"Oh come on. Those two definitely need to see some sack time."

"You're not suggesting… no… you don't mean, together?!" Xander is more than confused. Sometimes his fiancée is just too frank! And annoying!

"Well, I wasn't, but now that you mention it, why not? I mean, he's hot, and she's gorgeous. And they SO have the UST thing going on… I mean, it's so plain to see."

"SO NOT gonna happen Anya! Hello! Evil disgusting thing! Soulless demon! And S.L.A.Y.E.R. Last time I checked, mortal enemies!" Xander thinks this just crept past the annoying marker and into the clear and evident territory of infuriating!!

"Yes, a mortal enemy that helps her slay his own kind! And hey! Ex-Demon here! I was totally evil once, and I'm OK."

"She does have a point Xander." Giles just has to agree with her there.

"Which point, the part about a vamp helping the slayer, or the demon part. I'm getting a little fuzzy here… and are you agreeing with her?? My god Giles. He's a monster!"

"Yes, I am aware of that. And no, I don't agree that Buffy and Spike should…" Giles makes a face that pretty much sums up his revulsion. "They shouldn't get together, obviously, but she has learned to show him the most basic of human compassion. He does a great deal to help us Xander. Perhaps it's time we showed him a little bit of… patience, as well."

"Oh, Buffy/Spike sex wouldn't be so bad!" Anya just has to add.

"La la la la la la not listening!!!" Xander's ears are well and truly covered. The lights are off and the shutters are down!

"Fine. Whatever. Still… sex is the answer. Sex is always the answer. Right Giles? Giles? Oh, now where'd he go?"
 

~~*~~

Oh boy the table sure is a mighty comfy place to rest your head when the world is spinning off kilter. Spike tries to read his nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels sideways, which is always an interesting endeavor when he's drunk, but this time it just gets too tiring too quickly. He begins to muse over the events of that fateful night on the tower and decides that subject also is just a no-go for this evening. Better to think of other things. He wonders what's on the telly. Now, if he was back in his crypt he could probably tune into some old black and white flick, but then he's seen them all he figures. Boring! He decides the pattern on the Miller coaster is ever so interesting and he wonders if perhaps he should bring it home… add it to his collection, when suddenly he is rudely interrupted.

"You Spike?" the demon biker asks him.

"Not tonight, mate. Tonight I'm Larry. Who's askin'?" he slurs.

"Well boys, look what we got here… William the Freakin' Bloody, killer of his own kind and the Slayer's lapdog. Man we can smell her all over you."

"Now, how's that possible? Cuz I had a shower, mac, and I don't smell 'er at all."

Before he has a chance to react, Spike find's himself being dragged from the comfy chair, and suddenly face down on the floor. Bloody hurts! He's pulled unmercifully along the floor till he feels dirt collecting in his nose and realizes that he is now outside. This rude awakening snaps him out of it somewhat, although not nearly enough to swing a fist.

"Gonna teach you a lesson, Spike. You've made quite a name for yourself, Vampire. Playing fuckin' Undead Tarzan to the Slayer's freaking Super-Jane."

"Well shed of her, mate… although, gotta say, the word analogy is kinda catchy." That remark is met with a steel toed boot to the stomach.
 

"Look boys, I'm not into killin' anything at the moment…" 'Cept for all present, he mentally adds.

This remark annoys the biker demons, who now seem to be five strong. He could have swore there were only two of them before, plus of course, their doubles, but then he thought that was just the influence of Jack. Ah, could do with a good swig right about now, he thinks.

"Hey dude, I hear the Slayer has a choice little sister tucked away somewhere… probably really tasty and ripe for some demon-lovin'. Maybe we should dump this chump and go look for her."

Hello! That did it. Spike suddenly feels a little more awake. Nobody threatens Dawn and gets away with it. Still, havin' a bit of trouble with the drunken issue, but he's workin' on it!! He tries desperately to get up.

"That's it! Get up, vampire! I'm gonna take you down!"

"Already bloody there," Spike grumbles, his anger bursting to the surface, along with his ridges.

"Get him up! I put down 50 on Bart, and I wanna see this vampire bleed!" the ugliest of the group shouts.

"Now, why would you wanna go and do a thing like that?"

They all turn to see a very angry Slayer standing there, arms crossed over her chest, and a take-no-shit expression on her face.

Before they have a chance to respond Buffy's coming on swinging. She nails the ugliest with a hard right and blocks a nasty kick from his betting buddy. Very quickly she swings said betting buddy around and snaps his neck in one fluid motion. Ugly comes back with a roundhouse that barely connects and Buffy kicks his legs out from under him. Before he has a chance to react he sees a knife in his chest and hears the sickening sound of a nasty twist! It's all over for Ugly, and the remaining three back away slowly. Bart, the aggressor, shouts snarly warnings as he runs away.

"This isn't over Slayer!! The Vampire's gonna die!"
 

"Yeah, bitch! We'll be back with the rest of the gang!"

Buffy knows she should chase after them. Everything in her screams Take 'Em Down!! But the vampire before her is so broken, once again, and she can't bare to leave him there. He's bleeding profusely from various places, in particular from nasty gashes on his face and arms.

"Gotta call Giles."
 

~~*~~

"A six-pack of A Negative, nothing else."

"Don't suppose you wanna settle things up for him while you're at it."

Giles rolls his eyes. Why is it everything always falls to him? Like he's the only adult in the lot of them. "What does he owe you?" he asks somewhat impatiently.

"180 big ones. Been pretty bad this week with the general boozing. Getting on my nerves too! So tell him to haunt some other joint for a while! Give me a break!"

Giles reluctantly digs into his wallet and hands him two crisp, new 100 dollar bills. Willy looks at him as if he's left something out.

"Is there a problem?"

"Well, uh, it's just that OK, this settles his tab and well, the kitten incident in the backroom last week, but it doesn't cover the six-pack."

"Well, you can look at it like this. You give me the blood and accept my money to cover Spike's tab. Or you give me the blood and you can sing for Spike's tab. Very simple choice really."

Willy takes a moment to decide.

"Of course, I could always send Buffy in. I'm sure she has a few questions for your patrons."

"No, hey, that's alright. Blood on the house."

Giles quickly re-joins Buffy in the parking lot and carefully helps her put Spike in the car. He sees her take off her jacket, fold it, and tenderly lay Spike's head down upon it. He's touched by the display for a moment and then gripped by the stark realization that his Slayer actually cares for the Vampire. Of course, she is a very compassionate individual, she'd probably do the same for anybody else in that situation. Yes, that's all it is. Isn't it?

"Thanks for coming so quickly Giles."

"You're very welcome Buffy, now let's get him back to his crypt."

"Yeah, about that… those demons said they'd come back for him. What if they find the crypt and come back to finish him off? He's so thrashed."

"Chances are they'd find out where Spike lives rather handily. He has so many enemies."

"One of us should stay with him. We could take shifts."

"We can't do that Buffy." Giles has to think. He doesn't want to go down that road, and he also knows Spike would be furious if they were there to baby-sit him. That's the last thing Spike would want. "I think I know what to do Buffy, but we'll need Willow."

Once they have him settled on the large stone slab Giles puts the blood in the fridge, making sure to leave two bags out for use now.

"I'll get Willow, won't be too long."

"Don't tell Dawn, Giles. It'll just upset her. You know how she feels about him. You can think up some excuse right?"

"Right. Back soon."

 

~~*~~

 

Spike mumbles when he's drunk. He blathers on and on usually, but this time his speech is extra slurred. Buffy manages to stop the bleeding but he's so much paler than pale. It frightens her. He looks just as badly broken as he did after the fall from the tower and she silently wonders how much more abuse his unlife is going to throw at him.

"Ah that Buffy, she's a sweet 'lil thing… yeah, my Super Jane she is." Spike makes like Tarzan and pathetically thumps his chest with his reasonably undamaged arm. "One day I'm gonna swing away with her and we'll get our own spot of jungle. Loads of room to play." He swings the good arm dramatically to capture the invisible vine.

Buffy smiles sadly at Spike's display. She doesn't know what to say to him really. He can't see her because his two eyes are swollen shut. And she's not sure if he can sense her because he's so drunk. She decides that perhaps she could touch him very softly, speak gently to him, let him know he's going to be alright.

"Spike," she says as she touches his shoulder. "You need blood. Can you just turn this way a little?" She tears open the bag and holds it under his nose and within seconds he's vamped and feeding. He drains this bag and the next in no time and Buffy's relieved to see the perma-pale just a little bit pinker than before. She covers him with his blanket and strokes his cheek. This action makes him flinch away.

"Don't touch me." This startles her.

"Spike? It's me, Buffy." She wants to be able to give him some form of comfort. He has to let her. After everything he's been through with her, for her, he has to let her touch him like this. Pure comfort.

"I know. Mustn't touch me luv. Failed… Broke my promise… Couldn't protect her."

"No, Spike… don't say that. You didn't fail. God, you never fail." Buffy lightens the mood, "Well, except maybe with the lame plans to take over Sunnydale. Never did have the follow through for that."

"Leave me alone." He says it so softly she's not sure at first that she's heard him right. She rests her head alongside his and asks him what he needs.

Spike tries to open his eyes as he says it. "I want you to leave me alone."

Before Buffy can assure him wholeheartedly that she's not going anywhere, Willow and Giles arrive. She sits up and smoothes back her hair as Willow approaches.

"Hey, Buffy. Got the goods, so we're ready to rock."

"Ready to wha? What are we ready to do?" Buffy's kinda confused.

"We're gonna do this really nifty spell. It's a doozy. Kinda like a two for the price of one." Willow is awfully excited about this, and Buffy hates to admit it, but that makes her a little jumpy. Willow sees Buffy's concern and quickly explains.

"It's a protection spell of sorts. It's like a de-invite for Vamps, you can select who's welcome and who's not. Demons won't be allowed in, well, except for Spike of course, cuz duh, his home and everything. So Spike will be safe from the Biker Dude demons. I'm figuring, after a few days of bouncing off the barrier? Those bad boys will find another town to haunt."

"That's if I don't kill them first." Yes, Buffy feels issues emerging.

"I hear ya. Now I just need something of yours. I have an item from each of us, 'cept you. Oh and, hate to be gross, but I need some of Spike's blood, you know if you have a rag with his blood on maybe? Gotta anoint the entrance."

Buffy really can't think of anything she can hand over, except… She carefully takes off her cross and chain and hands them to Willow.

"Love the cross, but can't use it. I'll take the chain though. Say, that's really pretty. I haven't seen you wear it before."

"That's because I haven't," Buffy says rather sadly and reaches for the blood-soaked cloth she used to stop Spike's bleeding. Willow opens her bag and takes out a bag of herbs, five candles, each of the Scoobies personal items and a receptacle. Carefully she places the personal items, along with the chain Buffy gave her into the oval dish and gestures for Buffy and Giles to follow her.

"Bring the candles, and the cloth."

They follow her outside where she sets up the items for the spell. The last thing she does before lighting the candles is wipe some of Spike's blood on the doorframe.

"I saw that somewhere. What was it? Oh! He had a beard… urgh, what was it called?"

"The Ten Commandments." Giles supplies.

"That's the one! So, is this gonna work Will?"

"Like a charm." Willow lights the candles and has them sit with her in a circle. She says an incantation and sprinkles the herbs over the items. As if on cue, a breeze comes up out of nowhere and blows the candles out.

"Done."

"So now what?"

"That's it. Now he's safe." Willow gets up and gathers the items. She reaches in and grasps the chain Buffy had been wearing. "Here ya go. That's so pretty."

They walk toward the crypt and Giles enters first. "Well, that worked… jolly good." The Watcher smiles.

"Were you expecting otherwise?" Willow asks playfully as she follows him in.

Buffy fastens the latch of the necklace, "Hey wait up guys," she says before she walks straight into the invisible barrier… and bounces right back.

"Guys? Willow! Something's wrong!"

Willow rushes out again and finds a very upset Buffy. "Why can't I get in? I have to get back in there."

"But I don't understand… hey wait a minute. That was your necklace right?" Willow feels a major woopsie! coming on.

"Well, it was my Mom's…" Buffy feels terribly uncomfortable when she sees Willow's sad expression. It never occcored to her that the necklace wasn't actually hers. She found it in small leather pouch in her mother's drawer.

"Oh. Buffy I'm sorry."

"Wait, Wills, cancel the spell and then redo it. We'll go get something else of mine. Hey, I could give you my shirt. Or, no, maybe uh, I dunno, bra?"

"Can't do the spell again for seven days Buffy. If I revoke it that is… and if I do that, Spike will be vulnerable till he's healed."

"But h-how long till I can get back in there? I need to get back in there. He needs me Will." At that moment Willow sees a change in Buffy. She feels the heartache radiating off her and feels her despair. Buffy cares for Spike, and this will change everything.

"A week Buffy. But h-he'll be fine. And we can take turns looking in on him. Keep him company. Well, those of us who can get in." She wishes she hadn't said that. "You know Spike anyway, it's not like he'll want any of us around."

"No I guess not." She knows that he doesn't want her around at any rate. "Look, I'm just gonna go. Dawn will be expecting me."

"OK Buffy… and don't worry, Spike will be just fine. A regular pain in the ass in no time."

Buffy doesn't hear Willow's last statement. She's too busy feeling something so new and uncharted in regards to Spike. She feels compassion… but more than that. She's hurting because he's hurting. And now she feels even worse because she can't get back into his crypt. She's inadvertently de-invited herself.

"Oh my god." Buffy's struck by the sickening feeling of being totally and utterly unwelcome. It isn't so much what she feels for herself, and yes that's bad enough, but it suddenly hits her that Spike must have felt this way when he bounced off the barrier she'd put up at her house to keep him out. She's feeling the brutal sting of rejection, and it's an incredibly bitter pill to swallow.
 

~~*~~
 

Next