Author's Note: Chapter 3 consists of seven parts. I'm uploading them as they're edited. So check back for more parts! It's a long chapter.. sowwy :^)

Disclaimer: See it kinda goes like this... heck you know the score! Just don't sue 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 describes both Buffy's and Spike's state after the inadvertant de-invite... Alright... so I grabbed an episode title... it goes with my 'R' theme, so sue me! No, actually don't! Cheers!

Note: text in italics denotes thoughts or emphasis :^) and in this chapter, dreams. ;^)

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

Chapter Three - Restless

Day One - Could You Be Mine?

He comes to her in the darkness, his voice soft against her ear, his fingers ever so gentle against her skin. He lets her lean on him, lets her fold herself right in, and it always surprises her how well she fits. She never did fit so well with anyone else. At times like this she wonders how anything could be so perfect. It has to be a dream, and of course, it is...

"Why do you love me?" she asks him as she nibbles the soft skin under his ear, holding tightly in one hand the little blond bride & groom set they had picked out for their wedding cake during 'the spell'.

"Because of who you are, luv," he answers as he runs his fingers through her golden hair.

"And who am I?" There are times when she really doesn't know, although in this place, she knows who she'd like to be.

"My salvation." This declaration makes her pause and she needs to gather all her nerve to keep talking just then.

"Never been a saviour," she whispers, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.

"O' course you 'ave... but then, I never needed saving," he tells her, "til now." Buffy thinks perhaps she is finally beginning to understand.
 

"And if I save you..." she struggles with her question, but then just asks, because she needs to know... "Could you be mine?"...

**Its a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbour, would you be mine... could you be mine?** - comes the god-awful little ditty in the back of her mind.

"What the hell?!" Buffy is torn mercilessly from her dreamful slumber, right at a pivotal moment, and pulls the pillow over her head to block out the sound of Mister freakin' Rogers, then suddenly realizes the absurdity of the situation. She thinks, very reluctantly, that this could be one of two things. Either there's a new demon in town who's messing with the space time continuum and she's been shipped back ten years, well in her fake memories of ten years past at any rate, and an itty bitty Dawn is gleefully sitting cross legged in front of the TV, watching her PBS morning hero with great enthusiasm; OR there's a new demon in town who has transported her to a Hell dimension that looks and sounds conspicuously like Mister Roger's Neighborhood. Of course she'd have to get out of bed to confirm her theories. A situation like this is always better dealt with verbally, "Dawn!?" Before Dawn can answer though Buffy is gripped by the awful notion that she possibly has had a prophetic Slayer dream that was somehow influenced by... Mister Rogers??? "Dawn!!" She decides that this dream is staying well and truly under wraps. One word about it to Giles would be an invitation to eons of the third degree. "Dawn!!"

"What?? Geeze, Saturday morning! Give me a break!"

"Why the freakin' hell are you watching Mister Rogers!? This early? And did I ask why?"

"I'm not watching Mister Rogers!" she yells from her bedroom, "I turned the TV on and forgot about it. What the hell is wrong with Mister Rogers anyway? The puppets are kinda cute. And you know you had a thing for Fred when you were like, four! Mom told me all about it! " heh, score!

"Oh. My. God. You are so warped! Fred? Are you serious? And hey, you were the one with his pictures all over your walls… now Dawwwwwwwnieeee would you pleeeeeease turn it OFF!? God my fragile Saturday morning nerves are teetering on breakdown."

Sometimes it's easier when its demons.

At the crypt…
 

Spike figures he's been horizontal long enough. Surely a few cracked ribs would be healed by now. He's got places to go, things to be doing and biker demons to be killing! Of course, the minute he realizes just exactly how injured he is, plus the fact that the sun is up, he painfully makes his way to his favourite chair. He notices the brown paper bag on his table and wonders what the good watcher has left him. It really bugs him that old Rupie had to be involved at all last night, and he feels a great wave of embarrassment. God, what a ponce he is, allowing himself to get bested by a group of leathered uglies. Oh, tonight he'll go out, and there'll be thrashing! And bones breaking! And also dusting, if it happens to come up. Might even be his dust if that's how it's got to be, but damnit that's the way to go… gotta go down with somebody's flesh between your teeth and the sounds of snapping body parts all around you. Ah, the good life. Which really isn't his anymore.

He wonders if she'll come tonight. Doesn't really know why she should bother. She acted ever so strangely towards him last night, almost as if she cared. That thought really bothers him because the last thing that Spike, William the Bloody, the Master Vampire wants, is to be pitied by the bloody Slayer.

He decides that he'd really like to go to the fridge, fetch himself a bag of A negative for his early morning snack, but just can't get out of the chair. Every time he tries to get up his ribs send waves of intense pain to his addled brain and he groans at the thought that he could be stuck sitting there for a while.

"Shoulda turned on the bleedin' telly."

Evening falls…

"How hard can this be? Just gonna talk. He's gotta be better now. So I can't come in. No big." Buffy tries really hard to convince herself that the de-invite is really not bothering her at all. She can be supportive Buffy, outside the box! Yes, she'll say comforting, supportive things… like the fact that she's gonna wipe out that Biker gang. "No, not good. He's got issues with those boys now. Still, if I see them, I'm gonna kill them. He can be mad with me after the fact."

Buffy finds that graveyard therapy is the best way to sort out her issues. She loves the fact that she can talk to herself and there's nobody around to argue. Except for the odd vampire or nasty of course, and they often prove quite useful as verbal punching bags too. Yup, graveyard therapy. Who knew?
 

"Spike, how are you?" she asks out loud to empty space, admiring the fact that she sounds so genuine. "Oh, thanks for asking Buffy," she mimics him, "bloody broken I am, got lots of broken things everywhere on my body in fact. How are you?" She decides that the 'how are you' question would be best left unasked… a general 'Feeling any better?' would go over much better. Of course she could tell him about her morning too, break the ice a bit. 'Spike, I had a prophetic dream about you this morning, and oddly, it involved Mister Rogers. Not sure of the connection yet, but I'll get Giles right on it.' No, that wouldn't do either.

As she approaches Spike's crypt she sees Willow emerge with Tara. Suddenly her chipper mood is wavering because she wishes that she could get inside as well.
 

"Hey, Buffy," Willow attempts to be as upbeat as possible because she can see the sad expression on Buffy's face. "Just checked in."

"How is he?" She kinda hopes her concern isn't too apparent.

"Not great. Uh, I mean, he's getting better, but not great. He was a bold vampire for getting out of bed. Geeze he was totally stuck in his chair all day."

"We brought him some stuff, you know, m-make him feel a little better. Comfort stuff." Tara is always so kind and quiet, and Buffy feels a pang of something… no, couldn't be jealousy, that Tara was in her Vampire's crypt, tending to him, making him feel better… and hold the phone! When did he become my vampire? Oh, Buffy… hang on now.

"Buffy?"

"Huh? Wha? Oh.. oh that's great, thanks guys. You know, can't get in anyway, so I may as well take off, you know… I was just checking." Gotta go kill things… many, many things.

"Uh, OK Buffy. Do you want me to run back in and tell him you were here? Stopped by to say hi?"

"No! No… th-that's OK, really, no biggy. Got stuff to do… over there. And uh, at the other, you know, vampy spots. So no, I'm good… I'll catch ya later."

Willow and Tara watch her 'exit, stage left!' and feel sorry for her predicament. Willow knows how hard this must be for her. "Maybe we should have movie night sooner rather than later Tara. You know, get Buffy's mind off the 'banned-from-the-crypt' issue. She's got six more days to go… and she seems so, I dunno…"

"Restless?" Tara always has a way of hitting the nail on the head. They link arms and walk back towards Revello Drive where Dawnie's waiting for them, possibly with pizza.

 

~~*~~

Day Two - He says, She says

"Good morning Dead Lad, how's the mouth?" Xander rattles ever too cheerily, jarring Spike from his much not needed sleep.

"Itchin' to bite you actually, and why the hell do you care?" Spike wishes the insensitive sod would just go away, and be anywhere but there.

"Nice to see you're talking again. The other night, when they brought you in? Yeah, they said you were blubbering. And drooling. I didn't know vampires could drool." There are a lot of things Xander wonders about vampires, like, when they drink, well, things other than blood that is, do they have to go to the can? Spike drinks an awful lot of things other than blood. Does he ever need to pee? Does Spike have a toilet? And how about if he was to eat something spicy, like say those chicken wings he loves. Now a plate of those would give Xander the farts for sure. Do vampires fart?

"Judging by the creases in your forehead, Harris, I'd say you're actually having a thought. Or you're just about to break wind."

Xander looks as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A brief moment finds the young man incredibly tempted to just ask him those burning questions, but then it's gone again. "I was, uh, just thinkin' about something. Nothing. Well, nothing to do with you anyway."

"Right, well push off then. Don't know why you'd bother comin' 'round anyway."
 

"Not that you'd care, but it's all part of the package, see? You know, 'Fetch the donuts, Xander', 'Drive me here, Xander', 'Research, Xander', 'Check in on the evil-blood-sucking fiend, Xander'. It's all part of the Handy Harris persona. Nothing personal." Xander looks truly bummed out then and Spike wonders why he'd even bother telling him something like that. But he has to acknowledge somewhere in the back of his brain, that he feels a little bit sorry for the whelp.

Spike takes the bag Xander's brought him and has a rifle through. Cigarettes, check. Deck of cards? Cool. "What's this?" Spike holds up a curious looking thing indeed.

"Oh, uh, yeah, that…" Xander kinda smirks, "It's a lighter. Well, a special lighter."

"Don't need one, mate. Got me own."

"Oh sure, I get that, it's just that this one," he walks over and takes it from Spike, turns it over. "This one has this funky Batman logo on it see? And well, I sorta thought of you." His enthusiasm is quickly absorbed by Spike's blank expression. He tries desperately then to save the situation. "It also glows in the dark, you know, in case you ahem, ever run out of uh, well, candles." He looks around then at the dozens of candles and realizes that he just dug himself in further. There was no saving this one.

To Xander's complete and utter surprise, Spike pockets the lighter. "Back-up." He then goes back to rifling through the brown bag. Ahh, Pic'N'Mix. Double check. "D'you buy all this?"

"Well, it was nothing really, Giles gave me a few bucks to get you some things. Said you needed blood, which is there too… and well, I figured a guy can't hang out and recuperate without essentials. Such as cards and snacks."

"Did you bring beer?"

"Hell, yeah! Got them outa the chilled section." Xander offers him the other bag with a kind of an odd grin.

"Well, well Harris, you surprise me." Spike opens a bottle and takes a hearty swig. He feels Xander looking at him and realizes he should really offer him one. "Beer?"

"Good god no, it's like 8 in the morning Spike. I have to go to work."

"Right," Spike would never admit it, but he's enjoying the little interlude with Xander. "Well, er, thanks Harris."

Xander starts to walk toward the door and hears Spike flicking his new 'back-up' lighter. He shouldn't care, but somewhere in his highly confused brain a little voice is saying, 'Give him a break, man.' And Xander figures for now he can do that. So long as Anya absolutely does not bring up Buffy and Spike and sex in the same sentence ever, ever again. If things remain like this he could cope alright.

"Oh, Harris?"

"Yeah?" he replies without turning around.

"How's the Slayer? She alright? And Dawn?" Spike knows that asking Xander is only going to net him an insult and some harsh language, but he's dying to know, and the witches weren't much with the conversation the night before. Possibly because his face and mouth were still so swollen that he couldn't talk really anyway. Yes, that would be it.

Xander surprises him once again. "They're good Spike."

"Slayer hasn't been around."

He thought they would have told Spike about the accidental de-invite. Well he's not gonna be the one. He'll get Giles to do it. And hey, maybe Spike will get over his Buffy obsession if he doesn't see her for a while. Yeah right, like that'll ever happen. Suddenly the mood is lost and Xander's back to business.

"Well, she has a lot of important things to do with her time, you know?" That was a tad harsh, and even Xander feels the sting of his own comment.

Spike doesn't let his hurt show. "O' course she does. And she shouldn't be wasting her time worrying over the likes of me. Just wondered about the Bit mostly. Really." He knows that Xander's right of course, she does have more important things to do with her time. He shouldn't have asked.

Xander can hardly believe that he actually feels kinda badly about the way he said it. "Look, Giles will be by later. Have fun with the cards and the candy. And hey, enjoy the beer, man."
 

"Cheers, whelp. Now piss off." Ah, back to the safe and non-threatening threats. Always better this way.
 

~~*~~

"So who's going to see Spike today?" Buffy asks as they all sit around the table at the Magic Box. She wonders if she should write him a note, show that she was thinking about him. Somehow she doesn't think that would go over so well. And she really doesn't know what to say anyway. It's like she's having a continuous argument in her mind. On the one hand her brain is being very adamant about all this. Me Slayer. You Vampire. Me stake your kind. You bite my kind. Yum. Oh now, there's the wicked heart again. Buffy rolls her eyes as she feels the next mental skirmish coming on. She hopes that she can stay focused enough to listen to the others this time.

"Well I was going to go," Giles answers, "But I think it would be a much better idea if we made a sweep of the area tonight. Maybe encounter the demon bikers, thin their numbers a little."

"Do we even know how many there really are? I mean, am I up against a handful? Or something more along the lines of the LA Chapter of the Hell's Angels? And do we know much about these guys other than they are extremely ugly, totally smelly and so not doing a hell of a lot of good for the biker image? Gotta say!"
 

"They're your regular, run of the mill, bash and trash demons really. Nothing terribly special about them. Shouldn't be difficult to take down if we go in as a group. Willow and Tara should be able to give us plenty of extra fire power of the magic sort."

The Wicca women smile. "We've got your backs." Willow looks at Tara then who gives a small nod. "Um, guys? I was kinda thinking… and I'm not trying to insinuate that we need it or anything, cuz, you know, go us! We rock! But I thought that maybe if we sorta took the Buffy Bot out of storage, well… you know, extra fire power, potential decoy and all that jazz?" Willow looks positively timid, as she so often does when she tackles the touchy subjects.
 

The suggestion is greeted by silence at first. Everyone glances almost anywhere else and hands begin to fidget. They thought they'd never have to use the bot again. There's a part of each of them that resents the robot like nothing else, and then another part that sadly, somehow recognizes why it was made in the first place. Everybody looks at Buffy.

"Alright," she answers quietly.

"Are you sure? Because, hey, we can scrap the whole idea. It was just a stupid suggestion."

"No its not Willow. Just a question though…" Buffy fiddles with a tassel on her blouse as she drums up the courage to ask a certain question that's been bugging her for a while, ties it with another tassel, totally wrecking the tassel perfection that was there only moments before… She decides to just go for it, nobody's going to think anything of it. She dives straight in, casual as hell. "It's not in love with Spike anymore, is it?"

Willow's eyebrows reach a new and never before attempted height on her forehead. Oh dear, what's going on with you Buffy? "Oh, well I haven't erased all her routines and subroutines yet. I mean, there's a lot of programming there, and a lot of overlap too. But she wouldn't actively pursue Spike. That's been wiped."

"Good. So, let's meet up at sundown and get nasty with the biker demons. Everyone good?" That skanky robot better stay away from the crypt. Bad Buffy! she chastises herself. Bad, bad Buffy!
 

~~*~~

"So, did he uh, ask about Dawn {me}, last night? You know, when you and Tara were there?" They've been making the rounds, trying to sniff out the biker demons, with little luck. Willow and Buffy are walking ahead of the gang.

"He didn't say anything really, well… apart from a fair bit of mumbling and some unavoidable drooling, with the swelling and all. You know how it is." Willow wonders if her friend will actually talk to her about what she's thinking, about certain feelings that might be emerging for the peroxide prince of darkness.

"Oh yeah, puffy face equals buckets of drool. Definitely been there, done that. I think." She wonders if indeed she has drooled buckets in the past, and remembers that one time when she had her wisdom teeth out. Oh yeah, heavy drooling. Unavoidable. "Well, at least I know about drooling. Uh, in a dental sense of course! Not in any other sense, although, between you and me? Major drooliness when I sleep. Oh, way too much information. Hey! What's that?" Buffy points to a Harley Davidson parked outside one of the more posh restaurants in Sunnydale.

"I'd say that is one hot-datecycle. We're kinda lookin' for lotsa bikes, and all in the one spot." Willow decides she's going to try for the direct approach then, because to her, Buffy is acting like she's had ten too many mochachinos. "Buffy, you know you can talk to me about anything right? You know I love you and would never judge you… and that if you have something on your mind you can always just say it around me. You do know that, don't you?"

Buffy takes a deep breath and searches for all her stored up gumption, because she really would love to talk to Willow about her growing something for Spike. But she just doesn't know how. And besides, when she told Willow about that fake stakeout-slash-date that Spike had taken her on she looked like she would hurl. Kinda felt that way too, because back then she was just so sure he was totally not worthy. How wrong she was. She knows that now, but would Willow be accepting of the turn-around?

"Spike isn't an evil, disgusting thing." There. Said it. Now can we keep looking for them biker demons already?
 

~~*~~

Day Three - Decisions

She comes to him this time in her dream, to the place from which in the real world, she's been banned. His door opens quietly for her, as if bidding her 'come in', and she breezes in on feather steps. It takes her only a moment to find him, and she feels her heart skip a beat at the sight of his magnificent form. He lies there so still, so silent, and if she didn't know what he was she'd think he was dead. Of course, he really is, and she smiles as she thinks that this is one of life's true mysteries indeed, for this dead man is the most vibrant, alive creature she has ever met.

She approaches him cautiously, somewhat guardedly as if waking him will shatter the picture, so to speak, and she wants to have some time to really look at him. She holds her breath when she finally gets close enough to see his face, for the moonlight plays across his ridges, causing shadows along his brow. It strikes her that she is not at all frightened of his vampire visage, nor is she disgusted. In fact, she doesn't think she has ever seen a more strikingly powerful creature. His demon face is just as exquisite in all of its ferocious glory as his human face is in all of it's sculpted beauty. He is two perfects halves to one incredibly gorgeous whole and she swallows hard when she thinks that this creature loves her.

Just seeing him is no longer enough, she needs to touch him, feel him, and somehow, even as he sleeps, let him know that she thinks he is not disgusting. She reaches out and with a feather touch, runs her fingertips along his shoulder, down his arm. She feels the chorded muscles beneath his skin and imagines those strong muscles surrounding her in an embrace. She remembers what is was like to be held by him, and the only word she could think of then was 'home'. Gently she brushes her fingertips across his collar bone and down the center of his chest, ever so slowly, carefully. His skin is so soft, his body so firm, and she feels her mouth go dry from the sensation of touching him.

Her eyes drift from the panel of his chest to the perfection of his face and she needs to touch him there as well, then. She suddenly feels as if she doesn't have enough hands, wants to be touching more of him. She glides her fingers back up and rests her hand on his chest, feeling his hard nipple warm under her palm. With her other hand she begins to gently trace his ear, ever so softly, then the outline of his jaw. He remains totally still and she silently thanks whoever she must for this exquisite privilege. Fingertips as soft as feathers begin to trace along the ridges of his forehead and a shot of excitement rushes through her. She stops then and considers the fact that perhaps Spike was right, maybe she does like 'a little monster in her man'. And would that be so wrong?

She recommences the slow caress along his ridges and then a wonderful thing happens. Buffy is blown away by the power of it, tears forming in her eyes. As she touches him there, his ridges begin to disappear and she feels the change not only under her fingers, but deep within herself as well, as if she's feeling it in her very soul. Suddenly she isn't looking at the vampire anymore, but at the face of the most incredibly beautiful man she's ever seen.

Sadness tugs at Buffy's heart then. He's been right in front of her all this time, helping, encouraging, sparring, supporting. Loving. He's loved her all this time and she's treated him like a monster.

Her touch drifts along the scar on his eyebrow, one of her favourite features and she wonders if he would ever willingly let her mark him. He probably would. And she wonders what the mark should be. Slowly she runs one finger down the sharp line of his nose, such a perfect nose. She catches her breath then as she contemplates touching his mouth, god does she ever want to, its been much too long. She barely feels his lips under her finger as she glides from one side to other, and startles when his mouth opens, ever so slightly. She does not take her finger away though and instead holds it there, pressing a little more, wants him to feel her. His mouth opens just a little more and she feels such temptation then, wants to slip inside and let him taste her, let him know she's there. Spike makes the decision for her and she's filled with something more than pleasure when she feels the tip of his tongue brush lightly along her finger.

She looks at him with such hunger and she relishes the sight of him tasting her like this. She pulls her finger away slowly and gasps when he opens his eyes. He doesn't say a word, he just looks at her with such yearning she thinks she would die if he didn't touch her. He reaches up for her then and firmly runs his fingers up along her neck, behind her ear, twining them through her hair, drawing her mouth down towards his own...

"Buffy!!"
 

"What?? NO!" ohmygod nononono let me back in!

"Geeze Buffy, I've only been yelling at you for like, ages! Giles is on the phone." Dawn feels slightly bad because Buffy definitely looks like she's been ripped out of the crucial part of what must have been an Angel dream. She has those sometimes. She hears her calling out to him and of course that can only mean one thing. Gotta be a sex dream! She'll tease her about it later though, because Giles sounds kinda worried.

Buffy wonders what could possibly be the matter for Giles to be calling her so early. "Giles? Wh-what's up? And, it's Sunday! Sunday morning… and early too." She yawns loudly for dramatic affect. Plus she is totally burned to be interrupted from what possibly could have, no, would have, been one of the best dreams ever.

"Buffy, it's Monday. And its half nine, surely you're up by now. Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes, Giles… now what's the matter?" This had better be good.

"It's Spike…"

At the mention of his name she is completely lost to whatever else Giles is telling her. He's phoning her early on a Monday morning because Spike must have met a demon and now he's dusty, or he's bled to death and now he's dusty, or somebody sent him an evil demon-o-gram, and now he's dusty. She never got to tell him anything. She never got to make amends. He's probably blowing in the wind, and she never even got to say thank you.

"Buffy are you listening to me?"

"What?"

"Have you heard a word I've said? Spike is missing, Buffy. I stopped by this morning to bring him a few supplies and he was gone. Did you check in on him last night?"

"He's gone? Uh, no… no of course I didn't, I can't get in remember? Didn't anybody else? Oh god, I should have gone, knocked on the door. I could have talked to him over the threshold."

Dawn watches the tears well up in Buffy's eyes and she's puzzled by her sister's reaction. This is Spike after all, the evil undead that Buffy's always complaining about. Dawn likes him, thinks he's really cool and has always wished Buffy would be a little warmer towards him. Is this what she's seeing? If so, bring it on!!

"Buffy I'm sure he's alright. I mean, you know how hyper he is. He probably felt totally penned in and needed a bit of fresh night air. I checked for dust, by the way, and there is none, anywhere in his crypt. Well, apart from household dust." Giles quirks his eyebrow at that last statement, if you could call a crypt a household.

"Well we have to find him! Those demons could find him first and that would be terrible! And where would he go in the day, anyway?"

"Buffy, we'll go after those demons again tonight. And Spike's probably getting around in the tunnels, like he does sometimes, remember?"

"Call the others. I want to find him. Now. We'll check Willy's and the other demon bars. I'll take the tunnels."
 

Buffy hangs up and jumps out of bed. She looks like a woman on a mission as she rifles through her closet for proper demon-killing attire, although lately, pretty much everything in her wardrobe was fair game. She really doesn't have a slaying style. She settles very quickly on a pair of comfy jeans and a black cotton sweater, black boots. Simple. Refined. Says, 'don't fuck with me' yet doesn't go overboard either.

"Oh. My. God." Dawn snickers.

"What? Oh my god, what?" Buffy doesn't have time for banter this morning; in fact, she thinks Dawn could help today.

"You actually give a damn about Spike." Dawn seems totally surprised.

"Look, Dawn, I don't want to get into it today, alright? He's hurt, he's missing, ergo, let's find him."

"Holy cow! You actually care about what happens to Spike!" Now if she could just get her sister to acknowledge how cool he is, and maybe check out his gorgeous cheekbones, not to mention his cool blue eyes, and those muscles, and whoa, where am I going? This has definite possibilities.

"Dawn, yes, I care about what happens to Spike, OK? He's been totally helpful, and he's always there for us. I get that, OK? I'm not a completely heartless bit-uh, Buffy."

"Never thought I'd see the day. So, does this caring for Spike involve thoughts of the boinking nature or is it purely platonic at this stage?" Upon seeing Buffy's expression Dawn bolts from the room giggling hysterically.

"I can't believe you!! Geeze Dawn, rude much!?" Buffy gathers together an axe, several daggers and a couple crossbows and stuffs them in her large slayage bag, calls out to Dawn once more, "Hey, while you're hiding in there, you may as well get dressed. You get to help today."

"Yippee!!!"

~~*~~

"So then he says, 'Well, she has a lot of important things to do with her time, you know?' and so I said " Well o' course she does, I ain't thick, mate.' 'Cause, you know really, all I could give two shits about is if the sweet bit's alright. That's all I bloody care about."

"Uh-huh. So what did he say to that? And who is this guy anyway?" Clem asks as he pours Spike another shot of whiskey. He's such a good listener.

"Well, see he's the most pathetic of the Scoobies {apart from me, but I'm not a Scooby!}. Really, this guy takes the proverbial cake. He's been hangin' off the Slayer for years now. Yeah, but he's alright I guess. He bought me a funky lighter." Spike takes a breath and realizes what he's saying, "O' course, I'd bite him in a heartbeat, cuz, you know, evil." He gestures to himself as he says it.

"Oh, of course." Clem totally gets his deal.

"And then there's the Watcher. I mean, what's his problem? All of a sudden he's all Mr. Do-good-to-the-chipped-vamp, when just a month ago he wanted to stake me good and proper. Told me I wasn't welcome, he did. Just because there was this stupid rumor goin' round that I had designs of the humpety bumpety nature towards his Slayer."

"Yeah, that one's been floating around for a while. Don't suppose it helps much when you're out there killing your own kind. But I totally understand the whole, I-can-do-good, deal. I mean, I eat kittens, you know? And some people are like, 'Dude, that is so screwed up! You're so evil!' But really, when you get down to the heart of the matter, I'm just another guy trying to survive in a tough, tough world. You know, I donate to the animal shelter regularly."

Spike hikes up the eyebrow, yup, that one, and gives Clem an odd look. "Right. I guess I see your point. Somewhere. Anyway, it's not like I'd ever get together with the Slayer. I'm totally screwed up, er, what's your name again?"

"Clem."

"I'm totally screwed up Clem. I don't know what I want anymore. I'm sure as heck certain it ain't this though. I'm nobody's whipping boy. Besides, the Slayer couldn't give a rat's ass about me. Doesn't even check up on me anymore, see what nasties I'm up to." His heart aches at the thought of it. He lifts the nearly empty bottle of Jack and motions to Willy for another, surprised by Willy's eagerness to serve him. Surely he must know this is going on his ever-increasing tab?

"You're awfully chipper Willy. Thought you'd be tearing into me about the tab by now."

"What tab? You mean today's?"

Spike's eyes narrow and he turns his head slightly, still leering at the barman. "What do you mean, 'What tab?' Something you wanna tell me, mate?"

"Oh, uh, yeah… well the English guy, you know, who hangs around with the Slayer? He settled your tab. So you know, knock yourself out." Willy thought he'd be even a little bit pleased. Spike looks like he's ready eat somebody.

"OK I can see you're dealing with something harsh, here… so just breathe, well, er I mean, you know, pretend to breathe." Clem wonders should he pat his new friend on the back.

Spike turns to Clem then, nostrils flaring, and Clem thinks that Spike resembles his favourite character, Yosemite Sam, on a particularly bad day. "Watcher-boy settled my tab. Now I ask you, how screwed up is that!? I hafta get outa here. I can't take this crap. What am I? A bloody child?" Spike grabs the new bottle of Jack and makes his way toward the front door, blinded by his anger.

Clem comes running after him shouting, "Sunshine! Sunshine!" and grabs his arm before he can launch himself into the daylight. Doesn't know if it was intentional or not, and he kinda thinks he likes his new friend, plus it would be a terrible waste of a good bottle of Jack. After all, dust can hold sweet F.A. "Look if you're gonna leave, at least take the tunnels, man."

"Right, wasn't thinkin'. Cheers, mate. Seeya 'round. Oh and stop by the crypt sometime right? Only not this week, got some serious mojo interferein' with the guests at the moment."

"Really? Why's that now?"

"Don't even get me started on the witches!" Spike disappears into the back rooms of Willy's bar and jumps down through the manhole to the sewers..
 

Not five minutes later eight burly demon bikers burst into the bar.

~~*~~

Dawn sits quietly on top of a tomb with all the enthusiasm of a patient waiting for route canal. So this is Buffy's idea of letting her help.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I'm stuck here crypt-sitting! I have things to be doing!" Anya huffs as she sits comfortably in Spike's armchair.

Dawn rolls her eyes. "It's just til Spike gets back, from wherever he is." Better be soon, she mentally adds, this crypt is freezing my ass!
 

~~*~~

Xander and Giles take the familiar route towards Willy's Bar. They've systematically worked their way through several daytime demon haunts on this side of town and Willy's will be their last stop.

"So Willow and Tara are gonna meet us there? Are they absolutely sure he's at Willy's?"

"Well, of course they're not absolutely sure Xander, but the locator spell seemed to go off without a hitch. Buffy's working her way towards Willy's through the tunnels."

"You mean sewers. Yuck."

"Buffy's perfectly capable of dealing with a bit of stink. Why, some of the demons she encounters are truly repugnant, and yet she always manages to…"

"Giles…" Xander spots an unexpected bonus, parked outside Willy's Bar.

"Good lord… they're here."

"And Buffy isn't."

~~*~~

Spike makes his way through the tunnels, stumbling a little here and there, yet generally holding himself up well enough,all things considered. He's not as drunk as he'd like to be, but then there's always a hitch to his plans. Ah well, he can always continue the drink fest at his crypt.

He stops when he suddenly feels a tingling in his bones, a familiar sensation that he can only associate with one being on this earth.

"Slayer."

Quickly he searches his surroundings and sees that there's only two ways he can go, either straight into the Slayer's path or back to Willy's. He hasn't gone far enough to turn off at the sewer connector under Vine Street. "Balls." Reluctantly he turns around and heads back towards the bar, hopes that he can somehow hide and double his way back once she's safely past.

 

~~*~~

"What should we do? Should we wait for Willow and Tara?" Xander's not so sure he wants to take on the big and uglies.

"Buffy should be in this area by now. I say we go in and start with some small talk. Nothing too confrontational. Willow and Tara should be here any minute."

"Alright, so we go in, order a round, play some darts?"

"No, we go in, glare a lot and make Willy terribly uncomfortable. Then you can play darts while I ask a few questions."

Xander admires Giles sometimes. He has a lot of balls for a guy his age, and he kinda hopes he'll be that tough when he's ready to retire too.
 

~~*~~
 

Buffy slows down as she nears Willy's, and she finally stops a minute to catch her breath. She was sure she felt the familiar sensation of 'Vampire!' a minute ago, of course with the running and all, it might have been kinda fuzzy. Could have just been a chill, but something tells her it wasn't. She hopes with all her might that it's a certain peroxide pest that she's growing increasingly fond of. At least he isn't stuck in his crypt, she figures, might actually get to see him for a few minutes. She fixes that selfish thought right then and there. And then I'm gonna kick his undead ass for leaving without telling anyone!

She soldiers on and finally comes to the ladder that leads of to the back of the bar. Carefully she climbs up and peeks her head in through the crack to make sure it's clear. She doesn't see the Vampire hiding behind a bunch of boxes, although she can definitely feel him. She feels a rush of excitement at the thought of seeing him and climbs up into the room.

"Spike?"

She suddenly doesn't have the luxury of waiting for an answer when she hears a shriek from someone that sounds incredibly like Xander.
 

~~*~~

"So you're fifteen, right? I bet you've had a few sex ed classes by now. I just want you to know that I think of you as a younger sibling, or possibly a far removed cousin, and if you ever need to talk about sex, I'm all ears." Anya truly believes she has the ability to be helpful to the teen.

"Lalalalalalala not listening!" Dawn covers her ears and closes her eyes.

"Hey, Xander says that too! What is it with you people? What's wrong with talking about sex?"
 

~~*~~
 

"Tara look! They're here!" Willow points at all the bikes parked outside Willy's.

"Are you sure that's our biker demons and not some human bikers?"

"Oh yeah, these are our boys." She points to one bike that has a particularly hideous demon female painted on the gas tank.

Tara watches as Willow circles another bike, paying a great deal of attention to the wheels. "Puncture," Willow commands and they hear the very satisfying hiss of air rushing out of the tires.

"Oh that's good honey, that's a great idea. Trap them here. Although, wh-why don't we save the magic for when we have to face the actual demons."

"Great thinking, sweetie." Willow hands Tara one of the daggers. "Help me." Willow says as she walks towards the next bike and together they slash all the tires.
 

"What should we do if the demons come out of the bar? They'll be totally pissed when they see their tires slashed."

"Well, we could banish them to another dimension. But I'm thinkin' not, because they'll just create havoc in whatever world they end up in, and as you know, I haven't really got the whole destination factor truly figured out yet."

"You know, we could turn them into rats, like Amy." Tara thinks that's a particularly good idea.

"True, true… although they'd probably pass on rabies to all the pets of Sunnydale and we couldn't have that. Actually, you know what would be cool? Toads."

"Really? But what if they like, mate with the local toad population? Then there'd be a bunch of demon tadpoles around. Gross."

"I just don't see an alternative sweetie."

"I suppose we could gather them up and give them to the Zoo. Toads it is."

Just then they hear the sound of furniture crashing through windows and people shouting in the bar.
 

~~*~~

"My bar!! Go easy on the furniture!!"

"Sorry Willy, might have to redecorate, cuz these boys are going down!" Buffy is in no mood to mince words with Willy. These demons had the audacity to hold her friend Xander up by the throat to question him about Spike, and the incredible nerve to interrupt what she was hoping to be a reunion of sorts with said vampire in Willy's dark storeroom. She's taking these bad boys down!

Giles tackles one of them to the ground and takes out his dagger, abruptly ending the demon's struggle. He looks around to see how many more are left. Together they've taken out three so far. Five more to go from the looks of it, and one nasty looking one in particular. He must be the ringleader. "Buffy, catch!" He tosses Buffy the dagger and grabs another from her slayer sack. Xander dives into the bag and retrieves a handy crossbow.
 

Just as Buffy's about to sink the dagger into the demon's chest he breaks free and calls for his buddies to retreat. The other four manage to break free and run towards the door. Xander fires an arrow and narrowly misses the biggest bad biker, also narrowly missing a paying customer. Willy's getting pissed!

"They're trying to run!" Xander shouts, "We can't let them outside! What if Willow and Tara are out there?" He runs to the door with Buffy and Giles. "They'll never be able to take on five…"

"Toads?" Buffy asks, hardly believing that she was chasing five huge demons and is now faced with Willow and Tara holding a hopping netful.

"Toads." Willow says proudly.

"Brrrruuuuup. Ribit."

"And I say again, toads? What are we gonna do with them now?" Buffy is perplexed. It's certainly a new way to deal with the baddies.

"Well, we could give them to the zoo." Tara suggests.

"Or we could set them loose on the freeway." Everyone gives Xander a shocked look. "Just sayin'"

"We could give them to Spike, " Giles says with a bit of a chuckle, "although I dare say he'd torture them. Plus, I'd say they're still unwelcome, with the barrier up and all." He gets a rather vacant expression from Xander then. "You know, demon toads."

"Oh! Of course!"

"Speaking of barriers, hey…" Buffy just needs to get this question out and dealt with as soon as possible, "now that the biker demons are croaker demons, can we lift the barrier thing? I mean, heck, he's recovering now isn't he? And the bikers are no more, exactly, and the threat's over right?"

Giles' gleeful mood of moments before is gone suddenly and they're left to face an important issue. "Buffy, I think we should keep the barrier up. It'll only last a few more days, long enough for him to fully recover at any rate." He sees her muster an interruption but cuts her off before she can even start. "He's made a lot of enemies in the past few months Buffy, particularly by helping us defeat Glory. There were a great many low-lifes just waiting for the opportunity that Glory would have afforded them. I think Spike needs this time to get himself fighting fit again. It's only a few more days."
 

"OK, I guess… you're right." Buffy walks away feeling a little dejected. She decides that its time to collect Dawn and head back home. Spike is obviously alright, she knew he was there earlier. Only, why didn't he even try to see her? Or say something at least? She finds that very difficult to understand. She decides that tomorrow she'll stop by his crypt and talk to him over his threshold, or even convince him to come outside and patrol with her for a little while. Not like he has to kill anything. He just has to be there.

~~*~~

Spike waits in the lower area of his crypt. He knows Dawn and Anya are there waiting for him above but he doesn't have the heart to face them. He would love to be able to see Dawn and talk to her, make sure she's alright, but at the same time he can't help but feel she'd be so much better off without him. He failed her in the worst way, left her to die up there on that tower, and although it warms his cold, undead heart to see her well and healthy, even verbally sparring with Anya, he doesn't feel worthy to share the same room.

He hears the Slayer then. She knocks on the door, incredibly. He wonders if she'll come looking for him. Decides to be ready to run, just incase.

"Dawn, any sign of Spike?"

"Nope. He's a no show. Can we go now? I'm SO bored." She looks directly at Anya when she says it and Spike smiles. He knows how annoying Anya can be, and she has such a one track mind!

So much for the patrolling together idea. Buffy frowns. "Well let's go then. The danger's over anyhow, for now at least."

"You found the biker demons?"

"Yeah, we took them down. Well, actually not quite true. They're hopping around in the trunk of Giles' car as we speak."

"Xander? Is he alright? You know, because I couldn't bare it if anything was to happen to Xander." Anya would miss him so, and not just because of the orgasms.

"He's fine Anya. Now let's go, I just wanna get home."

Spike listens as they all leave, and he wonders why Buffy didn't even bother to come in. She must be well shed of him at this stage he figures. Ah well, serves him right for being such an A-1 loser, he thinks. He climbs up his ladder then, grumbling about having the privilege of snapping those demons' necks so rudely taken from him. He thought that if anyone should have the right to dispatch them it was him. They must think he's totally useless.

Spike wonders what the point is of even trying anymore. He's hopelessly lost in the notion that nothing he does or says matters. They're treating him like a pet, and he's not gonna have it. Things have got to change. He sits down in his comfy chair and pops the top of his bottle of Jack. Doesn't bother with a glass, just takes a nice long swig and lets the liquor warm it's way down. He thinks maybe he'll blow this joint, take up in a crypt across town maybe, or even check out Harmony's old lair. Last he heard she had headed down to LA. Yeah, he might find himself some new digs and not be so available to the Scoobies.

He decides to leave the big decisions for tomorrow though, tonight he'll regroup, just him and Jack.
 

~~*~~

Day Four - Confessions
 

Sometimes, when he dreams, Spike is the bravest warrior in the land. He wields the biggest, fiercest sword in his dreamworld and cuts down his enemies left, right and center, delighting in the sounds of breaking bones and spilling blood. He encounters the most fearsome of foes and fights to the death, protecting those he loves. Other times Spike dreams of simple pleasures, like strolling hand in hand along an old garden path, feeling the rays of sunshine warm his human skin. It isn't always Buffy he's with in these dreams, sometimes its his mother, and sometimes, very rarely it's a little girl with long golden curls that he's not entirely sure he wishes to remember.

He’s a vivid dreamer. Sometimes it seems as though his head has hardly hit the pillow and he’s off dreaming of odd things like besting the Watcher at Snap! or teaching the whelp how to play pool. And sometimes he dreams of other things too. Like one Halloween when he could have had the Slayer right then and there, and in his dream he does have her, and she’s delicious. He’s dreamt of all the ways he could take her, and each time he sinks his fangs into her willing flesh and makes her his own. And each time he wakes with a start, checking his mouth, searching for blood, searching for Buffy.
 

There are times when Spike dreams that Buffy loves him. These are the sweetest and shortest dreams he has, yet they are so vivid that when he wakes up he has to remind himself that she could never love an evil disgusting thing like him. Makes the dreams easier to push aside when he does that. Hey, can't be too disappointed if you know you've lost ahead of the game, now can you? He remembers how sweet she tastes though, and that, he finds the most difficult to forget. Perhaps he doesn't forget any of it, and just stores it away safely under his demon's lock and key.

This morning he dreamt of William's house when he was a young man. He saw all his papers and books stacked upon his desk neatly, his coat hanging from a hook by the bedroom door, a picture of his mother on his shelf. He smelled the cook's breakfast and his mouth watered. He looked in the mirror and studied his face. He polished his shoes. Felt like a dirty bugger when he woke up. Spike hates William sometimes. He hates the fact that there's too much bloody William for the demon... too much of a mesh. Secretly he thinks that weak little William is his link to this world he's living in though. Despite his animosity, he rather respects the fact that it's weak little William that hung on so strong when the demon came, weak little William that refuses to leave, weak little William that loves too much. Spike hates to admit it, but weak little William has certainly made an impression, and has certainly made him who he is today.

William should have given that cow Cecily the royal toss, is what he shoulda done, Spike thinks. Too bad he didn't have old Spike around then, woulda shown that bird who's boss. Reckon a good spanking would have been in order for starters, followed by some indecent proposals... yeah lotsa them, and then a good roger and dodge her. Use her and lose her. Plain and simple. That lousy excuse for a woman has nothing on his golden godess, nothing whatsoever. 'Course, Old Spike made mincemeat out of Cecily in the end, didn't he?

Although he generally tries to shy away from being too theoretical, philosophical or even lucky guessical when it comes to himself, he ventures a few thoughts on his situation. He makes a priority list in his mind.

Evil? CHECK! No, Double Check!!
Fiend? Always!
Trustworthy? Pass!
Lecherous? Duh!
Reliable? Erm, Pass!
Needy? Never! Don’t need anybody!! Git.
Needed? Well, yeah.
Trustworthy? I said Pass!

Well he obviously has issues with his inner ponce.

Pity he can't wipe Buffy from his mind altogether. He wonders if maybe there's a forgetting spell that maybe Red could do for him. Surely she'd jump at the opportunity to wipe out his memories; all of them would, except maybe for Dawn. His heart hurts at the though of his Nibblet. He's amazed that he's come to think of her as his. And she is his in some sense. Because when you attach an emotion to someone, whether it's love, or friendship or even hatred, you make them yours in some way. Lover, friend, enemy, yours. Dawn is his friend, and he has so few of those anymore, if any.

Spike comes to the not so startling conclusion that something in him is dying, some part of him that could always hold on despite the fact that the cards are always stacked against him. Spike senses then that weak little William might actually be giving up, and that thought fills him with dread.
 

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

~~*~~

"Tara? Got a minute?"

"Hey, Buffy... I've got lotsa minutes actually," Tara gives Buffy a warm, welcoming smile and gestures for her to come in. "Oh hey, don't mind the boxes, we're kinda redecorating, you know, out with the old and in with the new." That phrase strikes Buffy right in the heart. Ouch, she hasn't even opened her mouth and already she's deciphering her own personal cryptic messages. "Buffy? You OK?"

"Huh? Yeah! Sorry... I've got alot on my mind. I just... I need to talk, and well, I was hoping I could talk to you. You, uh, have such a good bead on things, you know?"

"I do? Oh, well, thanks... I have a very open mind, I s-suppose." Tara's extremely curious at this stage, although the way Willow was talking last night, she thinks she knows exactly why Buffy is here. "Sit down, Buffy... tea?"

"Sure, thanks." Buffy looks around, admires the beautiful candles and artwork on the walls. "I love your new room, it's a bit more spacious than the last one."

"Yeah, makes a big difference." Tara plugs in the kettle and then sits down opposite Buffy. "So, what's on your mind?"

Buffy fidgets. "I kinda have this thing. And it's a really big thing. And part of me says I shouldn't have this thing, and yet, well, a bigger part of me wants it so badly. And I'm not making any sense at all."

"Helps if you tell me what the thing is."

"See, that's just it... this is where I would usually get up and bolt out, because I am scared shitless. Really, I am."

The kettle rumbles in the background and Tara goes to prepare the tea, gives Buffy a stern but warm look, "No bolting. Mint or camomile?"

"Which is better?"

"I think Camomile is what you need right now Buffy, it'll help." She brings over the steaming cup of herb tea and Buffy holds it between her hands as if she's just come in from an icestorm. Something in the action soothes her for now, and indeed, she's glad she came.

"When I was a little girl I had this image in my mind of the perfect man for me. He was tall, dark and so so handsome. He had dark eyes and he was so strong, and he'd hold me so close. And in my mind, we'd fit so well, and I'd be safe. And I'd be home."

"Sounds like a nice image." Tara fumbles a bit, "You know, in a hetero sense... f-for you, I mean."

Buffy gives her an appreciative smile and then turns her head away a little, looks down. "I thought I found him."

"Angel?"

"Yeah, Angel."

"Well, he certainly fits the description in many ways doesn't he? I can imagine you thought he was perfect when you met him."

"Perfect apart from the sun allergy and blood consumption, yeah. Somehow, despite all that though, I accepted him, and I loved him, so so much."

"I sense a but coming..."

Buffy takes a warm reassuring sip of her tea. "But. And here's the ouch." Another sip. "We didn't fit so well. I mean, don't get me wrong, there are so many degrees of 'fitting' with someone. And in some ways, we kinda fit, and maybe I never would have known, but..."

"Someone else fits better. You never would have known if you hadn't fit so perfectly with a certain someone else." Tara understands exactly what Buffy's trying to say.

"Uh-huh." Buffy really wants to cry, but soldiers on, takes another sip of her tea. "Everyone would hate me if they knew. But so much has changed, and it's like a light's been switched back on in my head. You see, I had this someone, for like, a day, not even... and it was the most perfect day."

"Willow told me about it."

"She did? So you know who I'm talkng about then?"

"Yes, I've known you've loved Giles for a long time." Tara stifles a giggle.

Buffy impersonates a trout and then tosses a cushion at the witch.

"Buffy, do you love him? Spike I mean?"

And reality comes crashing back. "I'm scared Tara. I love all of you, you know? So part of me includes him in the 'all of you'... and part of me just wants the fit-so-well-with-him love again. Oh, my, god... the way he held me? I was home. There was nothing better. And I'm kinda shocked at how I could bury it all for so long. In fact, I think I used it to be even meaner to Spike, if that's possible."

"You always hurt the one you love."

"Is that was this is? Because, I'm totally treading on thin ice here. Giles would kill me. Xander would kill me. A few weeks ago I woulda killed me for even thinking such a thing."

"You know how much he loves you Buffy. He would have died for you. He nearly did."

"I... I know." She knows this fact all too well.

"Hey, I wasn't the greatest fan of a Spike/Buffy relationship, you know, when the Buffybot was around?" Buffy whinces at the mention of the Bot, but Tara continues, "But what he did for you, and Dawn? That was such a sacrifice. You know, he may never want to admit it, but he cares for all of us in some way. Look at what he did for me? I was so convinced I was a demon. He makes all these small sacrifices for us, goes against his very nature. And then he goes and makes the big ones, facing Glory and then getting thrown off that tower, trying to protect Dawn. And I-I think that changes everything... for all of us."

There's a pause, and Buffy just blurts her next thought. "It hurts me that I can't get into his crypt. I know exactly how he feels now, you know? When I had Willow do the de-invite? God it must have hurt him so badly."

"But he didn't intentionally de-invite you Buffy." Ouch. Tara takes Buffy's hand and gives it a squeeze. "It's only three more days. Hey you know, you should ask him to go patrolling tonight. Or if he's not quite up to that, you could invite him to movie night after."

"I don't know. I'll think about it." You know you want him there Buffy! Go for it! - Shut up evil heart.

Tara sees the struggle going on in Buffy's mind through the expressions in her eyes and squeezes her hand again. "It's ok to let yourself love him Buffy."

Buffy squeezes back. "Thanks for the tea, and uh, for listening. Do you think Willow's gonna be OK with this? I just couldn't stand it if she was dissapointed in me."

"Willow loves you, silly. You need to talk to her too. Tell her what you're feeling. She's worried about you, sweetie."

"Thanks Tara." Buffy gives her a warm hug and makes for the door, pauses and grins. "See you tonight, possibly with an obnoxious, pain-in-my-ass, bleach headed and extremely hot vampire."

"Oooh I'll tell him you said that."

"You will not!!"

"Go on... your secret is safe with me."

Buffy walks away feeling like a tremendous weight has been lifted, now if she could just lift all the other ones she'd be flying. She decides that tonight she'll stop by and knock on the said hot and extremely sexy vampire's door, invite him for a stroll and then a couple movies.

"I think maybe I can do this."

~~*~~

Spike is still lying there when the sun goes down, although he hasn't really managed to sleep much. He's tried and tried, but his brain got the better of him, and had a right go at making him feel like an utter prat. He rolls onto his side and stares at his comfy chair and TV, and judges how long it would take him to bust a nut and move. After all, he is mending alright, probably could mend better if he fed a bit more, but these days the Scooby-bought blood tastes a little off. It's tainted with pity. Yeah, that's what it is.

Slowly he sits up and carefully stretches out his dead-cold muscles, flexing like an injured lion. Now in his heyday he would have been strong again by now, and he'd be flexing like a regal lion, the king of the jungle and all that rot. But he'd have his dignity, at least he'd know where he stood, his place in the world.

Before he can get on his feet he's hit by a familiar sensation, the tingling at the back of his neck that usually arouses and excites him more than anything else.

"Slayer," he whispers, and remains very still. He figures she's getting close and silently hopes that she'll smash in his door in her usual fashion, and he could maybe have some of the old status quo. Anything would be better than feeling like this.

~~*~~

"I can do this... This I can do," Buffy tries to assure herself quietly. She sees Spike's crypt not twenty feet away and stops. "OK, just gonna knock, and invite him to go patrolling. Not gonna be anything but the normal me. And when I get him outside, then I'll invite him for the movie." Slowly she takes a step towards the crypt and stops again. "Wait, he'll think I'm a total loser if I knock. No knocking. Banging, the way he likes it. Would kick it in if I could, but no.. I'll pound on the door. Good." Off she goes again, slowly. "No, no.. what if he thinks I hate him? I... god, this is too hard." Something within her tells her to get a grip and off she goes again towards his crypt. "Gentle or brutal? Gentle? or Brutal? UGH."

Brutal wins out when she gets there. Bang! Bang! Bang!

~~*~~

What is she doing? Why's she banging the door? Bloody hell, what happened to good old charging in and pushing my face into the wall? C'mon, luv, give me some of the old heave-ho.

~~*~~

God, what am I doing? Say something! Say something!

"Spike! Are you in there?" Well, direct is alright. I am such a loser.

~~*~~

What's her problem? You should be in here by now Slayer. Guess I'm not even worth a bit of rough house anymore. Don't blame you, pet, 'cause I'm really not.

Spike's heart is breaking. Every second she stands there he wants to rip the door open and pull her in, claim her right there, make her see who he is and what he used to be worth.

Buffy, luv, why can't you just come in?

~~*~~

Why isn't he answering? Geeze he's probably laughing at me right now, making me feel badly for the de-invite. Bet he'd love to rub that in my face.

God Spike, why can't you just come out?

Feeling terribly defeated, Buffy walks away. She's not sure what to make of all this. She knows one thing though. The next three days had better fly by, because she has never felt so restless in all her life.

~~*~~

Spike steps off the sarcophogus when he realises she's left. Carefully he heads down the steps to the area below and strips off his clothes. He decides he'll shower and head out, maybe check in at Willy's and look for his new friend, what's-his-name-again, oh right, Clem. Yeah he'll have a good natter with Clem and try and arrange himself some new digs. Clem should be able to help him, after all, he's just another bloke trying to get by in a tough, tough world. And he donates to the animal shelter too. So he must be a decent enough demon, might have ideas about places. And even if he doesn't, he can take Clem and check out Harmony's old lair. Yeah, that's what he'll do tonight. But for now he's going to wash the Slayer out of his mind if it's at all possible. The heartless bitch wouldn't even barge into his crypt. How screwed up is that?

~~*~~

Day 5 - Fixer Uppers

"OK, just so you know, I really think this place stinks."

Spike isn't sure exactly what Clem is getting at. "Are you saying it smells? Or are you just having a stab at the décor. I mean, it's not the poshest dive, but it's alright."

Clem just doesn't feel right about this one. "No, it's not 'posh', as you say, and it smells too. But there's something else as well. And I just can't quite put my claw on it."

Spike turns to the demon landlord. "So tell me mate, is there somethin' about this joint 'at's got my pal here's jocks in a jumble? Or is he just being extremely picky?"

The landlord looks down and then away. "Well, not that it's of any consequence now? Cuz like, ancient history! But some Velorix demon opened up quite the portal here a few years back. Yeah, anyway it predates the Slayer," the landlord gave Spike that look, with a raised eyebrow to boot, "So you know, nothin' you have to worry your blondie head over."

"And what's that supposed to mean? That doesn't even make sense!" Spike suddenly finds himself hankering for a fight.

"Oh, hey now… you know, I think we're just gonna have a little look around before my friend Spike here, the Biggest Bad, know what I'm sayin'?, makes any decisions right? Wouldn't wanna be too hasty!" Clem drags his new pal out of the cave-conversion and into the night. "You know, I just knew that place smelled off!"

"Don't need anyone interfering, you know. Coulda handled that wanker with ease. Probably woulda knocked off a good chunk of the rent too."

"Oh man, you SO have to get with the new system. You know, demons have rights too. Just not recognized by the State of California. But I'm sure they'll get around to it one day. I mean, geeze, a lot of us vote!"

Spike wonders sometimes how he ever met Clem, and how this quirky fella ever latched on to the likes of him.

"So tell me Clem, before I head off to the old lair, have you got any other shining examples of cheap digs for me to look at? Cuz gotta say, dirt walls are lookin' kindof appealing about now. Anything that's away from the Slayer."

"Oh you know she'll just find you anyway. I don't know why you're running away from her."

"Hey now, none o' that… I'm not running. I'm just not being available anymore. Tired of being the whipping boy. 'Ooh Spike, come kill this with me, and kick the shit outa that.' Gotta reputation 'cause o' her. Can bloody well kill things all by myself without the invite. And besides, she doesn't give a flying fuck about me, to be honest… so I should back away slowly… got my pride you know?"

Clem looks at his fidgeting friend and feels an awful lot of compassion, for a kitten-eater. He sees in Spike something that he finds very rarely in creatures of the night anymore, and that's fire. "Man, you know, that girl has to be the stupidest creature on the face of the earth."

"What makes you say that?" How dare he insult Buffy!

"Look at you… shifting your life around, with her in mind, making all sorts of changes, considering her at every turn?."

"Hey, Clem… she doesn't really need me, alright? She's got this shiny life without me being a pain in her royal ass. Heck, even the Bit doesn't need me anymore. Got big Sis for the babysitting now, she does. So let's just say that I'm taking this opportunity to find out what old Spike wants outa unlife. I want a bit of peace, mate, plain and simple; bit o' bloodshed on the side o' course, but mostly to be left alone."

Spike? Peace? In what alternate dimension? Clem just shakes his head at his friend. There's no arguing with Spike obviously, but from Clem's point of view, Spike needs something alright, and peace alone doesn't cut it. He needs the slayer, and there's not a hope of peace till he addresses his problem. "Alrighty then, on to the next stinking hovel, OK?"

"Lead the way."
 

~~*~~

"I told you, like a week ago, that I was spending the night at Janice's place. God Buffy, chill." Dawn hates it when Buffy goes into hyper-protective mode.

"You did? I- I mean you couldn't have. I'd remember! And it's late, you know? It's not safe to be roaming around alone at night."

"I won't be alone! Janice is picking me up, remember? We're going to the movies Buffy, and Janice's Mom is picking us up from there." Dawn rolls her eyes at her sister's reaction. This routine is really getting old. And despite the fact that they will absolutely not be going to any movie and instead will be making a slight detour, hopefully making it back to the cinema in time to fool Janice's Mom, Buffy's reaction is still so totally not cool!

Before Buffy has a chance to retaliate they hear the doorbell ring. Dawn runs to answer it, and beams when she sees her partner in crime at the door.

"You ready Dawn? We don't wanna miss the movie!"

Dawn grabs her overnight bag and looks back to Buffy, raising her eyebrow in a questioning glance. "Well?"

Buffy really hates this feeling of helplessness. A million thoughts rush through her head, like, maybe she should call Xander and have him make sure they get to the movies, or maybe she should get Willow to do a protection spell, or maybe she could rustle up Spike to watch over them as they walk alone in the dark. But at Dawn's increasingly disappointed expression she realizes that she isn't always gonna be there. There's no way she can be with her little sister twenty four hours a day. And sometimes, it's the completely natural things that come and collect us from this life, and there's nothing anyone can do in those circumstances.

"Please just be careful…" Her expression lightens to a smile, "and have fun, OK?"

Dawn squeals with delight and hugs her sister. "We'll be careful, I promise! Thanks Buffy!"

No sooner has the front door closed and they've taken three steps off the front porch and Janice grabs Dawn's arm, whispering conspiratorially, "I can't believe you actually got away from her!!
So where do you wanna go first?"

"Shhhhush would ya? At least let us get outa the driveway! I swear she has like, super-hearing or something!" Not a lie. They scurry to the curb and make their way along the sidewalk, Dawn with her bag flung confidently over her shoulder. They both look back, and, satisfied that the coast is now totally clear, they slow down and get back to the planning.

"Ok, so what's first?" Janice asks.

Dawn wonders just how daring her friend is. She has something in mind, but doesn't want to squick her friend out forever. "How about the graveyard?" She really wants to see Spike, even if it's just for a minute.

"Freaky!! OK what's the deal?" Janice is intrigued.

Now, how to make this work! "Well see there's these crypts, where people party sometimes? And I heard they stash like, booze and stuff."

"Really? Oh my god… in the graveyard?? How cool! I mean, I knew the bushes at Weatherly were a hot spot you know? Gawd, have you ever been to one of those bush parties? Major rush when the badged boy wonders show up! Everybody scrams!" Janice lets out a giggle.

"Oh yeah, it's like, totally freaky! So you wanna?"

"Oh, I wanna."

"Good, so let's go. If we play this right, we'll be back at the movie theatre before mommy dearest shows up, none the wiser. Plus, we'll have jungle juice!" And maybe I can say hi to Spike.

~~*~~

"Now this is more like it." Spike takes a good look around the old lair, spots the bed, kinda trashed, but functional, the big old mahogany desk, still in good condition, the large oak table and royal looking chairs… oh yeah, this place always had a bit of comfort factor alright, even if it was previously occupied by a dolt.

Clem walks over to a large old trunk and opens it up. "Whew. Perfume! God this has got to go."

"Yeah, Harm was into the eau's de this and that… sometimes she actually found a nice one. Kinda liked a couple of the ones she wore. At least she had good taste in something."

"Hey, buddy! She had good taste in Vampires didn't she?" That's it; lift his self esteem a little.

"Silly bint." Spike thinks about it for a second. Never had to worry about saving Harmony's ass. Except maybe from the Slayer's stake. Other than that, her looks and her blondie bear got her by. "Tragic bloody taste… I tried to stake her."

"Oh, well, you know… everyone argues. Couples always have issues. Why this one girl I was with, she had a real problem with the kitten thing. See, she'd rescue them! From me! Of all the nerve! Yeah, it didn't last. Nice girl though, mind you she had a skin condition, and I was always buying her creams and stuff… sometimes it wasn't pretty. This one time she got me so mad that I put itching powder in her facial cream and man, you did not wanna see that. Unreal!"

"Why Clem, you dirty dog." Spike sits down on the bed. It's so tattered and torn, but he figures if he puts a few layers of sheets over the mattress he might not feel all the springs. Maybe he could come across a new mattress at the dump.

"So hey, is this it? This the one? 'Cause you seem awfully at home… well, as at home as you could be I guess, seein' as how you called the crypt home for so long."

"Not so long really, when you think of all the places I've lived. Anyway, I'm gonna bring my stuff here tomorrow night. Wanna help? I mean, you can't get into my place for a couple more days I think, but I can bring the stuff out."

"Yeah, sure man, I'll bring my car up as close as I can get it. It'll work out."

"No need for your little car, mate… got the DeSoto. We can fit lots of crap in that."

"Cool! Never cruised in a classic before!"

"Hoo-bloody-rah."

~~*~~
 

"Oh my god! This is so bizarre!"

"What do you mean? It's a graveyard Janice… bunch o' dead people."

"I mean, here we are, in a graveyard, at night. We should be shitting ourselves! But we're not, I mean, look at you! You're like, totally at home or something. Bizarre." Janice squeezes Dawn's arm a little as they walk between the gravestones.

Dawn thinks that they are very lucky so far. By now she would have expected to be jumped by a member of the fanged brigade, but then she remembers that this is Spike's cemetery, and surely the other, not-so-big bads would be wary of making waves in his territory. At least she hopes that anyway, because according to Spike, they all fear and tremble when they walk through his hallowed ground. Still, she's glad she has a couple of Buffy's stakes concealed in her overnight bag. Not that she'd be too up on the proper vampire slayage technique, but she knows well enough that it's wood through the heart that matters. Surely she can handle that.

"We're here," she says quietly.

"We are? Holy shit! This is like, a mausoleum. People actually party in there?"

"This is a crypt… well that's the cool term anyway. Scary isn't it? God it's dark. M-maybe this wasn't such a good idea." Dawn fakes the heebeegeebees so well.

Janice doesn't look so brave anymore. "W-well, it's just a crypt right? I mean, I can SO totally go in there!" She looks at the crypt door, and then at Dawn, a nervous smile on her face. "But I dare you to go in first."

Bingo. "Ah, Janice!" Dawn rolls her eyes for effect. "Well alright then, but if I scream you better come running in after me!"

"OK thrill girl. You call me and I'll come running."

Dawn drops her bag at Janice's feet and slowly opens the crypt door. Quietly she makes her way in, noticing the lack of candle wattage. Doesn't make sense. "Spike?" she whispers. "Where are you?" She waits for the inevitable protest that Spike would normally dish out, the harmless verbal rebuke, but it doesn't come.

She walks around to the TV, feels it. Cold. She makes her way to the fridge and opens up. No blood. Strange, she thinks. As she walks around to his sarcophagus/bed she accidentally kicks an empty bottle and hears it clatter against the stone wall. OK, gotta light a candle. If she could just see better. Back to the 'kitchen area' she goes and feels across the top of the table. Ah, matches. Score.

She walks back over to the sarcophagus and lights a candle. Much better. "Where are you Spike? Did you even come home?" she whispers. She walks over to his comfy chair and sits down. Briefly she wonders if any nasties are terrorizing Janice, but then, she's sure the girl would scream. Although she likes Janice, she knows that girl is all talk. Boy, if she even knew about Dawn, and Buffy, and Spike! She's sure Janice would quiver in her boots. Or totally not believe her. Doesn't matter anyway. Dawn continues her walk around the crypt and comes upon a pile of empty bottles and crumpled papers. "What's this?" she says to nobody as she bends down and picks the papers up. "Oh my god, poetry? Spike writes poetry?" She folds the papers a bit nicer and stuffs them in her pocket. She'll read them a little later, when Janice is asleep. She knows she really shouldn't, that it's Spike's personal stuff, but hey, he threw it away, hence rubbish, hence fair game.

As Dawn makes her way back to the comfy chair she notices a half bottle of whiskey. Score. Quickly she grabs it and heads for the door.

"Oh my god! We gotta get outa here!" She gasps as she bursts from the crypt, causing Janice to jump.

"What?? What did you see??"

"It was pitch black in there, but I found matches and lit a candle, and ohmygod ohmygod, I heard something! There was someone below! Like, there was this moaning sound! I nearly peed my pants!"

"Dawn? Is that you?"

Dawn and Janice both jump when they hear his voice. They can't see him, he's hidden in the shadows and Janice grabs Dawn's arm ever so tightly.

"What are you doing here? And at this time of night? Does your Sis know where you are?"

He steps out of the shadows and Janice gasps. Dawn forgets herself then, not wanting to be caught out for this. She wanted to see him, but not in front of Janice, not like this. "You can't tell her," she says in a firm voice. "C'mon Janice."

Before Spike has a chance to answer Dawn and her friend take off toward the gates and he's left wondering what has just happened. He's torn between being angry that she's out in the graveyard at night, and the fact that she's just run from him, without even a bloody hello. What the hell is all that about?

He should really tell Buffy what the Little Bit is up to, but then Dawn, and possibly Buffy, would just hate him more than they obviously do now. Good bloody thing he's getting the hell outa this cemetery. He just can't take this crap any longer.

"Be careful, luv," he whispers as he watches her run away, hating himself for every word.
 

~~*~~

Day Six - So Close and Yet...

The next morning, in the car on the way home, Dawn thinks that if Janice's Mom takes one more sharp turn she's gonna hurl. She's feeling ever so delicate, even though it was Janice who drank most of that half or so big bottle of whiskey Dawn had pilfered from Spike's crypt. They sat up in Janice's loft and took swigs of the rather unpleasant amber liquid, furiously wiping the bottle top to avoid each other's cooties… and of course, they talked about boys. They talked about Cindy Mulligan too, the tart. They also played with the Ouija board, which in Dawn's estimation, was not a good move. They channeled some dead car dealer named Fred who had a poodle fetish. SO not the type of thing a couple of teenage girls want to hear about.

This though, this headache and tumbly tummy was just not in the cards. How can Spike drink that stuff? Oh I'm gonna avoid Janice for a while, Dawn thinks. Janice has always been trouble, ever since that time when they were eleven and Janice convinced Dawn to put a potato in Principle Morley's exhaust pipe. How was Dawn supposed to know it would have that effect? Hello? Thank god nobody copped that she was the culprit. Yeah, they were lucky back then, but ever since Dawn noticed that Janice continually pushed the envelope. Yup, Janice could handle everything. Dawn managed a grin then, except for the graveyard. Not so tough last night. Pffffffffft.

After what seemed to be an eternity the car pulled in the Summers' driveway and after a brief 'Thank you for everything I had so much fun!' with the most plastered smile Dawn thinks she's ever managed, she slams the car door and makes her way into the house.

Please, don't let Buffy know, please don't let Buffy know, c'mon Spike, pull through, again!

"Dawnie? That you?" Buffy shouts from her bedroom.

"Yu-huh." Not gonna barf, can't barf. Why can't Spike drink wine? Shoulda looked for beer instead.

"You're home early. Have fun?" Buffy's shower fresh and as bright as sunshine.

"You're in a good mood. Have I got the right dimension?" Dawn really needs her bed. Doesn't want a fuss.

"Very funny. I am in a good mood. I stayed home last night and had some quiet me time. Thought about a lot of things." She undoes the towel that's holding her wet hair and lets it fall down around her bare shoulders, taking to the task of brushing it out before she blow dries.

Buffy's chattering about some such and Dawn doesn't hear a word she says, she's too preoccupied with the welcome notion that Buffy hasn't got a clue about where she was last night. Spike mustn't have tattled. Suddenly she feels very badly for having thought that he might have, after all, he's never tattled before. She left in an awful hurry last night, and she wonders, a little too late albeit, how he must have felt.

"… and I decided that I'd change things. You have to be able to forgive, move on. I can't keep dwelling on the negative. Gotta live for now... And so I've decided to shack up with Giles and raise Ferrets in Iowa."

Whoa, Dawn's train of thought is rudely interrupted by something about Giles and Ferrets?!

"Dawn, are you even listening to me?" Buffy looks a little irritated, but as she's just harped on about, she has to be able to forgive. Plus, Dawn has obviously spent the entire night awake with Janice gossiping about who knows who and whatever else. She crosses the room and as she passes a floundering Dawn, slows down, sniffing the air. "Dawn, did you use mouthwash this morning?"

Dawn quickly covers her mouth. "Well, yeah! I forgot my toothpaste and I hate Janice's type. So I used her Mom's extremely yucky yellow mouthwash and brushed with water! What's the big?" Shit shit shit.

"Mouthwash is bad for you. Kills the good germs in your mouth."

Dawn feigns shock. "It's always about killing with you! Geeze!" she huffs. Giving Buffy her best morning glare she leaves and heads for the bathroom, determined to brush her teeth two times too many, just to get rid of this awful taste!

"Alrighty then. That went well." Buffy switches on the hair dryer. One more night. That's all I have to wait and then I'm gonna have a word with the Big Bad. Put him straight on a few things. Yup. I got it all figured out. I'm a kinder, gentler Buffy. I'm a new and improved me. She flips her hair over and starts drying the left side. I should come with a gift for purchase. Yes, I'll bring an offering. But what? Ahh… should stop off at the Bronze and grab a couple flowering onions, spicy wings. Good plan Buffy!

~~*~~

Brushing your teeth after a half a snootful is a risky business. There's always the gag factor and Dawn has learned a valuable lesson. Water. Need water. And Advil. She searches the bathroom drawer and comes up with Midol. This'll do. After swallowing two and taking another big drink of water for good measure, Dawn pads her way to her room and very gently lowers herself to her pillow. Clothing doesn't feel so good the morning after, so she carefully turns over and undresses, grabbing a fresh nightie out of her bottom drawer.

When she lies down again she can't help but feel that she's forgotten something. What is it? Oh, I'll worry about whatever it is later… must sleep. Now.

Her jeans and shirt lie crumpled in a pile in the corner. The little something she's forgotten, the sheets of poetry, peek out of her jeans pocket.

~~*~~

Buffy knocks gently on Dawn's door, laundry basket balanced on her hip, and when she opens up to see Dawn sleeping she quietly gathers up the dirty clothes. As she hefts the clothes into the basket the little scraps of paper dislodge a bit, but don't fall out altogether. Buffy doesn't notice them.

"God I hate laundry." She makes her way down to the basement and begins the task of turning the clothes inside out, giving them a decent shake and launching them into the washer. As she reaches Dawn' jeans she sets to turning them inside out, and just as she gives them a shake the phone rings in the kitchen. "Saved by the bell," she says as she drops the jeans. Man that was lame, she thinks and rolls her eyes. Buffy heads upstairs, completely unaware of the little sheets of paper that have dropped to the floor by the dryer.
 

"Hey Wills, how's things?" she asks as she makes her way back down the stairs.

"Hey Buffy, things are good thanks. How about you?" Willow sounds a little distant.

"Oh, you know, hangin' in there. Keeping busy. Slayage. Laundry." Buffy picks up the basket and drops it down in front of the dryer, over the sheets of poetry, takes the last of the clothes out and shoves them in the washing machine. She tucks the phone under her ear and carries on with the multitasking. "Hey Wills, wanna come over later? I kinda need to talk to you."

"Well it's about time!"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well… well you talked to Tara, first! I mean, don't get me wrong. I am SO glad you can talk to Tara, and I love her to bits, as you know, but geeze Buffy, hello! Bestest friend! Feeling a bit of chopped lived syndrome settin' in, if you know what I mean." There, that'll settle her hash.

"Oh, Willow, I'm so sorry. I just… I don't know, I just had to ask Tara something. I needed some advice right there and then. And I know that she has such an open mind."

"As opposed to me, who doesn't?"

"No, of course you have an open mind Will. Oh, just come over later OK? We'll have junk food and watch a video and talk about everything. Plus I may have some groveling gift on hand, just in case. I think you may want to behead me after our talk... Or not."

"Junk food, yes. Video, no. I don't want any distraction from the facts as they spill from your trembling lips." Willow ventures a chuckle.

"Excuse me? Trembling lips? I will SO not be doing any trembling. And, trembling? Hello? Is your last name Collins? And what have you done with my Willow?"

"Just be ready to tell me everything Buffy. It's your turn to be confessions girl."

Buffy swallows down a lump in her throat. "OK then. Bring wine."

"You got it. See you tonight."

Buffy prays that Willow will understand. She just has to. She switches on the washing machine and walks back upstairs, leaving the basket behind.

~~*~~

Spike and Clem make one last sweep of the crypt for anything Spike might have forgotten. They climb down the ladder to the area below and Clem spots the make-do shower.

"Hey man, did you have hot water?"

"Yeah, made a deal with the groundskeeper. He gave me the hot water. I let him live. Worked for me."

"Bet you're gonna miss it. I mean, no chance of a hot shower out at the lair." Clem looks for any sign of 'second thoughts'.

"Ah well, can always borrow yours, can't I?"

"Anytime, my friend. Anytime. So, are we done here? Best not to linger. Don't want the happy memories to set in and make you melancholy. I never like to linger when I'm moving on. Just makes it harder."

Spike wonders if there are any happy memories at all in this place. Well, there's Dawn. He always enjoyed her little visits. And especially that time when he had to baby-sit Dawn and Joyce. Yeah, he enjoyed that day. It was especially nice to find someone who appreciated Passions as much as he did.

And of course, there was the Bot. But that's not a happy memory. That's just plain desperate. Of course, he could say that he has one single happy memory that outweighs any others, by about a zillion to one. Buffy kissed him in this crypt. Of her own free will. Now that is something he'll take to hell with him when he finally gets dusty. It pains him that he'll never have it again, but at least he had it once.

Satisfied that there's nothing left downstairs they make their way back up and head for the door. Suddenly Spike remembers something he's left. "Clem I'll see you in the car."

"Right-o!"

He heads to the back of the sarcophagus and bends down in the corner, bringing one of the few candles he's leaving behind down to the floor, so he can see better. He looks for his crumpled bits of poetry, hoping to take them and dispose of them properly. Wouldn't want someone happening upon them and destroying his reputation entirely. That would not be good. To his shock, they're not there. There's just a few empty bottles and a couple scraps of torn paper, with nothing on them.

"Did I burn them? Maybe I shredded 'em. Was kinda sozzled." He thinks he must have. Why else would they not be there? Satisfied for the moment that he's not going to be outed for his inner ponce, Spike blows out the candle and places it on the sarcophagus. He shifts to game face and after one last, long look around, he leaves.

"Hey, buddy. Was that hard? I bet that was hard." Clem's ultra supportive-friend.

"Clem, I think you're forgetting that I'm evil."

"Never! You're the Biggest Bad. Now, how about we stop off and get some snacks? We'll have a housewarming! Ooh I could invite a few friends!"

"Sure, mate… whatever you say."

"Hey man, did you leave them a note? Tell them you're ok or anything?"

"Nah. Not into that type of thing. They'll know I'm around alright. I'll still help the Slayer, just won't be so available." He puts the huge old car into gear and tears out of the cemetery gates.

"Still whipped, huh?"

"Always."
 

~~*~~
 

"We've got Cheetos, Pringles, Raspberry Ripple ice cream, diet Coke, gummi bears, KFC and, just in case we're really desperate, New York cheesecake."

Willow's eyes practically pop out of her head. "Whoa! You weren't kidding about the junk!"

"Trust me, we're gonna need it."

"How about we start with the KFC, followed by cheesecake, and then anything after the reasonably nutritious is fair game."

"Sounds fine to me. Got wine?"

"Gotta choice! We've got a nice Semillon Blanc, and a bottle of Merlot."

"Ooh Willow, you lush. Let's start with the white!"

"White it is… lush."

Dawn comes down the stairs looking a little worried. She pulls the lid off the rubbish bin in the kitchen and searches for something.

"Hey Dawnie, whatcha doin'?"

"Hey Willow, uh, nothin' really. I think I accidentally threw something away. Kinda special."

"Oh, maybe I can help?"

"No! No… see its Janice's. I was holding it for her. Note from a boy."

Willow gives her an understanding smile. "Gotcha. I will not help you whatsoever."

"Thanks." Oh! Laundry! Dawn replaces the cover and quickly heads downstairs.

Plates, glasses and opener in hand, Willow makes her way into the living room and sets the coffee table with the evening's offerings. She pours out a glass of wine for Buffy, passes her the glass, then pours one for herself.

"To best friends. Who will always love you no matter what, and poke you mercilessly if you ever forget that," toasts Willow.

"Cheers," Buffy answers with a smile. "Oh Willow. I'm so glad I have you. You know that right?"

"Is this your way of sweet talking me to lessen the blow? Cuz I gotta say, there's no need. But I love hearing it anyway so go on."

"I don't ever want to lose you. And at the same time, I need to know that you won't be disappointed in me." She looks away and then down at the floor, "You see… I've been thinking. About a lot of things really. And, this last while? Well, since the Glory thing, and the tower? I've been thinking about Spike." She looks at Willow to gauge her reaction so far. No frowns. So far so good.

"Spike tried so hard to protect Dawn. He nearly died trying to save her."

"I know. And see… I've been thinking that he's made a lot of sacrifices lately. And I don't think it's because of his chip, or the fact that he can't be bad so he may as well pretend to be good. I think he's changed."

"I know he's changed Buffy. I think we're all fairly aware that Spike isn't the same vampire that came to Sunnydale years ago. He's different."

"Right," this is easy, so far, "He is different, and yet, despite the change, he's still retained the ability to be a pain in my ass. But anyway, that's besides the point."

"And the point is…" Willow's wondering if she'll have to drag it out of her.

"The point is. I kinda like what he's become."

"Oh honey, I know that. I can see it."

"You can? And you're not squicked?"

"Well, must admit I kinda felt the squickies momentarily, because, you know, he tried to kill me a couple times. But hey, that was then, and this is now. And besides, that was before the changes, before he knew any better. And I'm pretty convinced he would never try to hurt any of us anymore. And hey, he totally loves Dawn."

~~*~~

"Spike is SO totally gonna hate me!!" Dawn grumbles in the darkness of the basement. She's searched her jeans, which had gone through the wash cycle and were still sitting in the washing machine, damp. The papers weren't there. She then searched the gunk trap and found nothing there. So the machine didn't eat them. "Where could they be? Oh my god, tell me I didn't drop them when I ran away. That would be so bad."

Dawn resigns herself to unloading and then reloading the dryer. She'll call Janice and see if she left the poems there. Oh please don't let Janice read them. Once the basket is full she grabs it and heads upstairs, never having noticed the objects of her search right there on the basement floor.

~~*~~

"Remember the spell? When I thought I was gonna marry Spike?"

Willow looks embarrassed. "How could I forget? I don't think Giles' oven ever saw so much baking action after that."

"For that day, I was so happy. I couldn't get enough of his touch, Will. He felt so right, so good. And the kissage?"

"Ooh! Tell me about the kissage!"

"It was the most intensely wonderful kissage I have ever had."

"Bet you wished you coulda done more than the kissing, hey?"

"Willow!" Buffy blushes beet red. "Well, yeah… I mean, then. I haven't really thought about the more," liar, liar, "since. Just about all the other stuff."

"Are you gonna tell Giles? Oh my god Xander is gonna freak!"

"I know. Xander's gonna pop a vessel for sure. It'll be ugly."

"Have you told Spike?"

"No! God no!" Buffy begins to fidget. "I don't know how to tell him. Plus? Barrier! Can't get in to tell him anything. Plus, I don't think he wants to talk to me. He's been kindof avoidy."

"He's really down on himself. He thinks he let us all down." Willow pours them each another glass of wine. "Of course, you do have only one more night. Then you can get into that crypt and tell him all sorts of things." Willow gives her a wicked grin.

"Have you seen him the past couple of days?" At that moment Buffy settles for experiencing the Big Bad through her friend.

"Well, Tara and I tried, but he was, as you say, avoidy. He left before we got there. We had brought him some healing herbs and a bottle of pretty decent organic whiskey. He wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. In fact, it was more like synthehol, on Star Trek, you know? Very low alcohol count thanks to a bit of magic."

"I'm sure he woulda loved it Wills. Hey maybe I can bring it with me tomorrow night? I'm thinkin' I'll stop off at the Bronze, grab some take away chicken wings, those flowering onion things he likes, you know, a bit of a peace offering."

Willow gives Buffy such a warm smile then. "Sure Buffy, I think that's a great idea," she takes a big sip of wine, "So what are we gonna do about the Scooby men?"

"I honestly don't know." Buffy takes two gulps of wine and pours herself another. "Hey! You could do a spell! Yeah! Make them be happy with it… Or not"

"No! No more magical interference Buffy! You have to be straight with them. And I'll back you up all the way. But I think anyway you should see Spike first and make sure this is exactly what you want, OK?"

"OK." Buffy gives Willow a tight squeeze. "Love you Wills."

"Love you too Buffy."

~~*~~

Day Seven - If

A/N: You can see the poems, as they would appear in the story, on crumpled pieces of torn brown bag paper. I've put links up at the mentions of the poetry… it's just so you can see it in your head. Ah well… I hope you enjoy them… nothing too special at any rate… just my usual type of verse written in a Spike POV :^) To borrow the phrase, 'bloody awful'? Quite possibly! Heh heh

It's a typical summer morning in the Summers household. Dawn and Buffy are in the kitchen going through the motions of routine and familiarity. Dawn retrieves the cereal box, Buffy throws in the toast; Dawn fills the kettle and Buffy switches on the coffee; Dawn finds the jam and Buffy fetches the milk from the fridge.

So little is said some mornings. Its like a rush to fuel the system first, find the subjects for talk later. Plus, Dawn just refuses to brush her teeth before she eats cereal because that just totally wrecks the taste, and there's no way she's gonna open her morning-breath mouth till she's killed the cooties with food. Of course, she thinks, Buffy's morning breath is way worse than hers!

Dawn takes a big bite of her toast, and as she goes to pour the milk in her cereal she realizes that Buffy's left her the dregs. She learns fast, Dawn thinks to herself. Tomorrow morning she'll get to the milk first. Rifling through the fridge she spots the small carton, "We need milk Buffy," she says casually, because big Sis needs to know these things, so she can take care of it. Something at the back of the fridge catches her eye. "Eww, can we throw this away? I mean, how long has it been in the fridge anyway? How do you know if it's still good?" she asks, holding up a blood bag. Spike.

"Oh, yeah that... I um, well, I was keeping that you know… just incase Spike came around."

"Oh well, that's ok then. I mean, if it's fresh and all. No big! I'm perfectly good with it. And hey, when is he coming over? Because there hasn't been a peep outa him for days." Dawn places the precious yet icky bag back in the fridge and closes the door, returns to her cereal.

"I'm gonna go and see him tonight, after patrol… or even you know, before patrol if he wants to come along with me. He's so good at the slayage, you know? And I kinda want to talk to him anyway. And I figured it'd be a good idea to bring some blood along, you know, just incase he's short or anything." Buffy shovels a huge spoonful of cereal in her mouth after that and looks away.

Dawn can't help but smile… seeing Buffy show concern for her favourite vampire is truly welcome. She'd love it if Buffy cared for him, allowed him to be part of their lives in some way other than slaying partner. She really, really wishes she hadn't lost those poems… she didn't even get the chance to read them. They weren't left at Janice's anyway, she made sure Janice went through her entire room while they talked on the phone. She couldn't believe some of the things the other girl had said…

"Oh my god, that guy at the cemetery? He was hot! And hey, how does he know you?? Spill!!"

"He's a friend of my sister's Janice, geeze! But he is hot isn't he?"

"Delicious! And that accent! Oh my god I swear I would have melted if I hadn't been peeing my pants at the fright! But god, he could quote me poetry any day."

"Eww, he's like, a hundred! Since when do you like older guys?"

"He can't be more than 30! And anyway, I didn't say I wanted him… so do you guys know him well? Like, does he come to your house a lot? What, is he dating your sister?"

I wish. "No, he doesn't come around too often. You know, we see him some nights."

"You should get him to come to the school, walk you home! I want to see him again. God he was gorgeous."

"He can't… he doesn't… I mean, we only see him at night." Just find the freaking papers already! GRRRR!

"At night? What, is he a vampire?" Janice makes a ghostly mocking sound after she says it.

"Oh yes, a real live bloodsucker. Duh! He works during the day!"

"Oh, too bad… maybe I could come around one night when you know he's gonna be there. Can you ring me if you know he's coming? Please?"

"Janice! He's like, totally in love with my sister! And again with the Eww!" Dawn's impatience only grows. "Did you find the papers yet?"

"Nope, I've totally turned my room upside down, there's no crumply papers here."

Shit! Must have dropped them in the cemetery. Poor Spike. I'm such a cow.

"Dawnie? Earth to Dawwwwwnieeeee."

"Wha? Sorry…"

"What are your plans for the day?"

"Nothin' much, just gonna meet Bri at the mall. Gawk at the studlies, and the shoes. Eat junk, the usual." And maybe walk out in front of a bus because I'm such a bitch for touching Spike's stuff. What am I? Like, twelve? God.

Buffy and Dawn converge on the sink at the same time, dropping their bowls in the soapy water. Just as Buffy starts clearing thing away, as it was obvious Dawn would eave the mess as usual, the doorbell rings.

The girls look at each other, each raising an eyebrow in a questioning glance before Buffy answers the door.

"Giles?"

"Buffy, good morning! Lovely morning if I do say so myself."

The one eyebrow still hoisted, it's quickly joined by the other one as Buffy looks at her sister, then out past Giles, noticing that it's no different today than it was yesterday, or last week, for that matter, and then back to Giles once again. "Right. Yes. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Come in Giles."

"Oh thank you… ah, good morning Dawn. Are you well?"

"Geeze, British much?" She teases, "Good morning Giles, there's water in the kettle and tea in the box, and Buffy's just baked the loveliest crumpets!"

Giles gives Buffy a look that says, 'Where did we get her?', and Buffy just shrugs.

"Crumpets?"

"Not a chance. Pop-tarts. We have Pop-tarts if you're hungry. Kinda finished off the Coco Pops."

"Ah Coco Pops, another shining example of the well rounded American diet. I think I'll pass. But tea would be nice, thank you."

"Right. I'll just get right on that. So uh… everything's ok right? I mean, we're not facing another world-ending revelation, or prophecy are we? Is there a new demon in town?"

"Buffy, can't I just come by for a nice cup of tea and a visit? Doesn't always have to be the end of the world."

"Anya driving you nuts?"

"Out of my bloody mind."

"Poor Giles."

~~*~~
 

"I can't help it! He's driving me insane! He's always looking over my shoulder, and watching me deal with the customers. It's like he doesn't trust me!"

"Anya, of course he trusts you. Honey, this is his shop, he has to be careful and be in charge. He's the boss."

"Well, I'm the sub… boss, person. I'm important too. I mean, this place would be a total dump without me," she pouts.

"Yes, we all know that, Ahn… you make this the best and most interesting shop in Sunnydale." Xander strokes her back as he comforts her.

"You really think so?" She gazes at him with puppy dog eyes.

"I know so… this shop has the most incredibly gorgeous shopkeeper. I mean, wow honey… look at you." Xander gives her such an appreciative look-over then, drinking her in with his eyes.

Anya presses her hand against his chest and nudges his chin with her nose. "Even with this stupid cast which makes me totally inadequate and distracted in bed?"

"Yes, even with the cast… but hey! It doesn't make you in anyway inadequate." Good save.

Anya playfully bites his chin and then lets go. "Make love to me. Now."

"What? Anya! Here? How? But what about…" Xander fumbles with the words because as much as he knows he shouldn't, he wants to very, very badly. She looks so delicious.

"I said, 'Make love to me.'... Yes, here. If I have to explain the how I'll be totally surprised; and if a customer comes in we'll hear the bell." She nibbles his ear, then presses teasing little kisses along his neck.

"But where? Oh… oh god, do that again."

She nibbles the soft skin where his neck meets his shoulder and licks her way up to his earlobe. "We could go downstairs, or we could go into Giles' office… I don't really care. You could sit me up on the counter for all I care… but I want you… right… now."

Xander reaches down behind her and grabs her bottom, lifting her up so that her legs wrap around his waist. She kisses him passionately and they bump into all sorts of things as he tries to decide the best place for this. Giles' office.

A wicked grin plays across Anya's lips as he boldly drops her on Giles' desk and quickly pushes up her skirt, moaning into her ear as she single-handedly fumbles with his belt and zipper…

Minutes later the bell jingles above the door and the customer that enters the Magic Box, a very wrinkly old lady who comes in regularly for enchanted nettles and eye of newt, hears a passion-filled set of moans. She smirks rather evilly. "Oh Anya, you go girl," she says with a jittery cackle.

~~*~~

Spike lies very still on the old bed, his eyes fixed on a huge cobweb directly above his head. One of the cruddy old bedsprings cuts into his back but he's loathed to move. He really doesn't care. He's been trying to sleep for the past three hours and its just not coming, there's no desire to close his eyes, no longing for the sleep that brings him not only rest, but dreams of her. He finds this lair to be a stinking hole compared to his crypt, but he couldn't tell Clem that. Mustn't give the wrong impression. Doesn't want to come across a ponce. He sighs when he thinks that he isn't even that anymore, because he's almost certain the inner idiot has packed up and left. Can't even keep the prancing lightweight happy.

Spike turns then and reaches for his duster that's draped across the bedside table. He rifles through the pockets with some urgency, frightened perhaps that's he's lost something. His fingers settle on it then and he sighs an unneeded breath of relief and retrieves it. Slowly he brings the object, a small photograph, into view and runs his thumb over the image ever so gently. God, maybe the ponce really is still there after all, he thinks. Could it be possible that the Big Bad, the baddest there ever was, is incredibly homesick, and lovesick, and altogether miserable, because of one girl?

"What have you done to me?" he asks the photo of Buffy, and runs his finger along the image of her hair, across her cheek, along her lips.

Spike closes his eyes and presses the small photo into his chest, lets out a heavy sigh. Within minutes, he's asleep.

~~*~~

"You know Giles, as much as I love a bit of organization?" Buffy says as she runs her finger along the spines of all the books on the top bookshelf, "Alphabetically arranging my books on the bookshelves just goes that tad beyond necessary, you know? Not that I don't appreciate it! I mean, I do… but we both know you're just being all avoidy. I'm sure Anya's simmered down by now." Buffy looks down at Giles, who is dusting the bottom shelf before he places the final books in order. They've had two cups of tea each and while Giles was waiting on a third he decided to go into the living room and organize something. Anything.

"One can't be too organized I find. Especially when it comes to books." His expression turns rather undecided then, "Even if said books are mostly trashy romance novels and exposé biographies. Good lord Buffy, you do read an awful lot of crap."

"Why thank you Giles… perhaps you can organize my cds as well and give me the low-down on my taste in music. I'm sure you'll think its rubbish. Or crap."

Giles gives her bit of a grin. "Well, if it keeps me away from Anya today…"

"Giles!" Buffy playfully swats his arm, eliciting a look of shock from her Watcher.

"Ouch, Slayer strength, remember?"

"Sorry. Look Giles, as much as I love the um, organization, and stuff… you really don't have to."

"Nonsense, Buffy. I haven't done enough for you." He looks a little sad then. There's so much more he'd love to do for her if she'd let him. Since the loss of Joyce and the battle with Glory, he's wanted so much to be an even bigger part of her life. He wants to be there for her, because really, she's the child he would have wished for had he ever married and had a family of his own. She's the most incredible young woman he's ever known, and to him, it's more than an honour to be not only her Watcher, but a father figure as well. He loves this girl like he would his very own.

"Tell me Buffy, is there anything here I could do for you? Anything you need fixed or indeed, organized?"

"Well, Xander's good with the fixing of things… but I mean, I guess if you really wanted to help me, maybe we could organize the basement? I mean, I want to make that my getaway, you know? Like a training area and recreation area, with a big rug and some beanbags and a TV? I was thinking we could separate the areas with you know, more bookshelves. And, well you could put more watchery type books there. It could be cool."

Giles absolutely loves it. "Buffy, I think that's a fantastic idea. Of course I'll help you. Where shall we start?"

"Well, I want to clear some of the junk out, and then move stuff around. You up to that?"

"Pour us another cup of tea then, and we'll get started." Giles gives her a warm smile.

"You, Mr. Watcher-man, can pour the next cuppa. I'm going upstairs to change. Be down in a minute, ok?"

"Alright." Giles walks into the kitchen and plugs the kettle back in, fetching a teabag for his mug. He thinks that he must pick up a teapot for Buffy. Within minutes he's making his way down the stairs to the basement, ready to help with the transformation. He places his tea on the old table by the stairs and sits down. Has a good look around, taking in all the possibilities.

As Giles takes another sip of tea he spots some papers on the ground. They look like torn pieces of a paper bag. His inner Mr. Tidy tries desperately to ignore them, reminding himself that they'll get around to the tidy up shortly. Mr. Tidy wins out though and Giles walks over and picks them up. He unfolds them and sees the writing, not the neatest, he notes. He then wonders if its very wrong to look any deeper, read any of it, because it could be Buffy's. But then Buffy's writing is so much neater and larger than this. And as far as he remembers, Buffy wasn't into poetry. His inquisitive nature getting the better of him, Giles sits down and reads…

The path which once was clear to me
That led to doom and fear and death
That nurtured my unneeded breath
And fueled my thoughts and reverie

That road I marred with streaks of blood
Has taken such a drastic turn
It leads to that for which I yearn
To drown me in a fearsome flood

Can it be the beast inside
The demon that would never change
Has found an enemy so strange
A foe from which he cannot hide?

And can it be that I would give
A thousand lifetimes, maybe more
And lay my heart upon the floor
So that my enemy could live?

For when I look into her eyes
Those emerald depths, so bright and clear,
Those pools of light that draw me near,
I know I've found my heart's true prize. ©

I'm such a wanker!!!!

"Oh, dear lord." Giles pales as he looks at the very last line again. There's only one person he knows who'd say that. Reads all of it again. Needs time to digest this. Buffy will be along soon. Good god… Spike really does love… No. He quickly reads it one more time and is struck by the power of his words. It may be bloody awful, but the message is all too clear. Buffy the enemy. Spike the beast. The beast that would lay down his life for her. "What are we going to do with you, old man?" Giles is shocked by his own expression, as if the pain-in-the-ass vampire is somehow a part of his accepted circle, worthy of a familiarity like 'old man'. Quickly he turns to the other paper and reads…

If I could capture happiness
And bottle it for you
If I could harness up the heavens
And make your dreams come true
I'd never see you suffer
And I'd keep the world at bay
I'd remain within the shadows
Just to see you live that way
If my life could have some meaning
In this dark and trying place
If my heart could find acceptance
And exist within your grace
Then to live within the shadows
Would be worth so much to me
For though I'm nothing more than monster
Your kindness sets me free ©

What a bleedin POOF!!!!!

Giles covers his mouth with his free hand and rubs his jaw. He places his palm then on his forehead and gives himself a couple of soft knocks. He wonders if Buffy's seen these. Maybe not, as it seems an awfully odd place to leave something so personal, and he hates to admit it, but special. He's knocked for a complete and utter loop by this turn up. He's tried not to think about the way Buffy so tenderly cared for the vampire that night after he was so badly beaten by the Biker demons, and the way she reacted at being banned from the crypt. He was touched by her compassion for him, but he was by no means ready for it.

He reads the second poem once more time and then takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Oh Spike."

"What about Spike?" Buffy's at the top of the stairs holding a laundry basket.

"Oh, uh… nothing really. Have you heard from him?" Giles flounders. He quickly pockets the papers and takes another sip of his tea.

"Nope. But I'm going to go see him tonight. He's been mopey and avoidy. And I think it's about time he got back with the program. And I uh, well, hate to admit it, but he always used to make patrol so much more interesting."

"I see. So he hasn't been patrolling?"

"Not with me anyway. In fact, I haven't seen him at all. Kinda wonder what's up with him, you know?"

"You… you're going to see him?"

"Yes, the spell's broken tonight isn't it? 1 AM is 'presto no barrier' time." She does a very sad Spike impression indeed.

"What's that?"

"Oh nothing, Spike thing… so. Anyway, yes, going to bring blood, and flowering onions and chicken wings."

"Are you sure that's wise? Wouldn't want to give him the wrong impression."

"Giles. Relax. It's just chicken wings. OK, it's just flowering onions and chicken wings. No biggy." Am I that transparent? She wonders. She wants it to be more than snacks and chit-chat. At some point. She knows that now. God Giles is gonna kill me.

She couldn't have read these, Giles thinks, and relaxes a bit. Of course, now, and this is very odd indeed, but now he feels terrible to hold these papers, when so clearly they're for her. But he needs time. He can't hand them over. He's absolutely at a loss as to what to do.

"Well then, let's get to the organizing, shall we?"

~~*~~

Buffy's ready to go. She's dressed for patrol, ready to kick some vampire ass, but also sports that extra touch of elegance reserved only for one vampire. She grins as she slings her slayer bag over her shoulder and has a final once-over glance in the mirror.
 

"Well Spike, just you and me tonight." She grabs her coat and keys and locks the front door as she leaves. "First stop, the Bronze, for wonderful, healthy chicken wings, and onions." She frowns then. "Better eat some of the onion myself or else he's gonna be all oniony breath and I won't be... and hey! Not gonna worry about onion breath. This isn't about kissage, Buffy. This is about making amends. This is about talking and listening. Nothing more." Yeah right! her wicked heart screams. Shut up evil heart, Buffy thinks. Kissage comes later. Maybe much later.

~~*~~

Spike and Clem are walking up the alley towards the Bronze when they hear a blood-curdling scream.

"Geeze, somebody's getting some action tonight!" Clem says approvingly.

Spike glares. "Give us a minute mate, be right back."

"Oh right, you go do that. Because you're like, Batman or something."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Spike turns quickly to the growling sound he hears coming from behind a dumpster but can't move yet because he really wants to hear what Clem is trying to say.

"Oh, nothing, man. You go do the right thing. Fight the good fight and all that. It's just... you know, you don't get alot of thanks for it."

"Don't need thanks, Clem, just gotta do the job, make them a little bit safer, is all. Help her out."

"Right, forget I said anything." Clem turns away as Spike takes off towards the nasty that is no doubt about to make a meal out of the helpless woman behind the dumpster. He hears the satisfying crack! of bones, and then even more satisfying sound of flesh tearing. Must have been a big beasty, Clem thinks. He sees the woman take off down the alley, without a 'thank you', not turning back to look even, and he shakes his head. That's appreciation for you, he thinks.

"OK then, wanna get some wings? You must be hungry after all the, you know, slaughter."

"And flowering onions, yeah? Got a hankerin' for those, I 'ave." Spike heads in the back door of the bronze with Clem and they make their way to the bar. "So, any games on at the moment? Feel like a couple rounds for kittens?"

"Yeah, maybe later. Gotta bottle of Malibu with my name on it. And a bottle of Jack for you, if you want."
 

"Back to my place so... I've got cards."

"Too bad you don't have satellite."

The two friends pay for their take-away and head off to the lair. As they leave through the back, Buffy comes in through the front. She makes her way to the bar and places her order for chicken wings and flowering onions.

"Popular tonight."

"Sorry, what?" She couldn't hear very well over the music.

"I said that's a popular order tonight," the barman shouts. "Be right back."

"Oh," she says as he disappears, "well, that's because he must have good taste," she whispers.

~~*~~

Why does she rush things? Why couldn't she just take a leisurely stroll to the cemetary rather than make it all an olympic style sprint? She has all night. He's not going anywhere, really. Except perhaps for patrolling. Seems like he does that before she does, because lately, there's hardly been anything kill-worthy about. And she knows the Hellmouth is just as popular a hot spot as ever with the bumpy forehead crowd... and anything else remotely evil for that matter. She paces back and forth as she has the past fifteen minutes and figures the food is probably cold.

S'OK, she thinks, Spike's got a microwave. S'no problem. She'll just heat it up for him, while they talk. Because talking is what she's come here to do. I'm good at the talking. See Dawn? I'll be really good at it. And I'll listen too. I'll be like Counselor Troi. All empathy-having. Yup, that's me. 12:57. Oh come on!

12:58. Oh, hurry it up already!! Hey, maybe my watch is slow!

Buffy places her hand on the door and feels the barrier. Damn. Not slow. Oh god, please don't be fast.

12:59. Here we go, here we go.... Buffy counts the seconds.

1:00 Bingo! Slowly she approaches the crypt door once again, and takes a deep, deep breath. Closes her eyes. Places her hand on the door and feels nothing. She lingers there for a minute, rests her cheek on the door then and thinks that everything from this moment on is gonna be just fine. She's survived the week long trial. She's suffered through her restlessness and has reached her reward. She's learned so much in this past week, and wants to share it all with Spike.

She knocks very quietly and waits for a response. Doesn't hear anything. Buffy mouths curves into a bit of a grin when she thinks that perhaps he's down below, naked, in that shower. Her mouth waters.

Buffy picks up her bag and slowly opens the door, expecting to see the usual plethora of candles, the glare of the TV illuminating his favourite chair, the humm of the fridge in the background. And instead she walks into a dark, empty crypt. Her heart lurches into her throat as a hundred things play through her mind. She wants to scream, then cry, then run. Because obviously something must have happened to him. He'd never leave, would he? He swore he'd never leave! So he must be dead. "But he couldn't be," she sighs as she slumps on the cold stone floor. "Spike, where are you?"

There's no point in going downstairs. She knows he's not there. She doesn't feel the welcome, familiar tingle at the back of her neck that had managed to spread throughout her body when he was near. She sees the lone candle sitting in the middle of the stone slab on the sarcophagus and gets up, walks over to look at it. She takes it then and slides her back down the edge of the stone and rolls the candle in her hands, staring at it.

"Oh god I was so awful to you," she says as the tears start to fall. "You have to forgive me."

Buffy gets up and wipes her eyes, decides that no matter what, she'll find him and make him see that she's changed. Let him know that she sees how much he's changed as well, let him know how much he matters. She determined to fix this, and she'll enlist all of the others to help her.

I didn't know how much I needed you till now.

~~*~~

"I wonder if she thinks about me at all," Spike says with a bit of a slur.

"I'm sure she does." Clem is the ever faithful friend. Even if he sounds like he's lying. He holds out the plate. "Wing?"

Spike grabs it with little enthusiasm and returns to his ramble. "She really shouldn't, you know. 'Cause I fucked it all up. And as much as I'd love to hold her and absolutely shag her into the ground, and love her till the end of the world, I couldn't waste her bloody time. Better this way, it is. She'll never see me for who I am anyway."

"And believe me buddy. If they can't see you for who you are, then they don't deserve you."

Spike sighs. "She deserves so much better than me," he whispers, and Clem rolls his eyes.

END CHAPTER THREE - finally!!!!! yahhoooeee!!! Sorry about the legnth of that one... next ones are shorter. Hee hee.
 

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