¤

Spiraling

¤

She was kicking herself. She was so angry that she shook as she marched her way through the cemetery. A truce! What the hell had she been thinking? She had been happy last night. At peace. As though things were coming together. She had had such mixed emotions for the vampire lately, and after he saved her life she had just known that she couldn’t go on the way they had. She hadn’t wanted to meet him and every single time feel like the fighting took over their entire encounter simply because a subtle understanding between them was too fantastic to comprehend. So, she had sought out to rectify it, by declaring that understanding out loud. Oh, dear Lord, what a moron she was.

She slowed down before his door, feeling the first gush of tears rise in her eyes and she admitted that she was disappointed. She was so damn disappointed it was choking her. She got a hold on herself, though, and walked up to the door.

He’s not here, she told herself.

And she was right.

So she turned around and began running. No matter what, she needed to have this final confrontation. She wanted him to look her in the eye and deny it. Deny what he was. And she would laugh at him. She would look at him one last time and then she would leave and never look back. It would be exhilarating, and liberating. She’d be free of him at last.

She checked the Bronze, then Carmine’s and finally Willy’s. Nothing.

At this point she began to slow down her pace. The fury was still seething black holes within her, but it was calming a little. Her sight clearing. She was the fool here. It was so clear. She had been blinded by the chip, by the fact that he couldn’t kill anymore. She had seen him as harmless, and it had taken over her entire view of him. And he had kept telling her that he was bad. That he was a thing of evil. And she hadn’t listened.

She was judging him, and by all goddamn right she was! She damn well knew right from wrong, or she wouldn’t have been put in the position she was. She wouldn’t have gotten as far as she had. She wouldn’t be able to make the decisions every day, that the position she was in required of her. This was the perfect bloody example! Goddamn it!

She stopped as she looked up and her eyes met his. He seemed surprised, but the warmth he had adopted as of late, when his gaze rested in hers, was soon seeping into them and she felt a knife turn in the middle of her chest, firing the anger right back up again. He noticed her expression, and a frown settled on his brow. There were twenty feet separating them, and she felt like it was lava and canyons and oceans and worlds that rested in that space.

She finally asked, voice low:

“Who’s the Doctor?”

He stared at her. He could see she was in no way kidding. This was bad. Bloody hell.

“Depends on where you heard the term. I know a few at the hospital who...”

“Stop,” she said. “Just... stop. Tell me who the Doctor is.”

He drew an unnecessary breath.

“You wouldn’t be standing there, glaring at me, if you didn’t already know. Would you?” he then replied.

“I guess not,” she said.

They stood in silence for a long while and then she asked:

“You don’t have anything else to say to me?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“What am I supposed to say, Slayer?” he asked. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, her voice quivering with emotion. “It’s nothing? You’re dealing in magicks that you have no way to control!”

“Trinkets,” he corrected.

“No,” she shook her head, “not in the wrong hands.”

“And how the hell would you know?”

“Because I followed you!”

His face became traced with indignation.

“So the truce was nothing but smoke and mirrors?” he murmured.

“No, the truce was real. I just didn’t trust it,” she replied. “And boy, was I right.”

He huffed.

“You’re a real piece of work, know that, Slayer?”

“It’s how I was made,” she said. “And the ‘trinket’ you sold was gonna be part of a spell to ‘gain power and self-confidence’. You told me yourself how tricky spells are, half of the time they go berserk. Willow’s living proof of that. And you stand there, telling me that it’s nothing! You’re a simple crook, Spike. A peddler of stuff that is so clearly well beyond your limited ability of comprehension.”

“It’s what I do! It’s what I know!” he retorted, coming a few steps closer to her. “So I’m the bleeding middle man, so what! Who cares?”

“I do,” she replied. “I care. About the people those spells might hurt. About the demons you’re helping. I care. You can’t keep doing this.”

“And why the hell not?” he demanded. “I’m leaving.”

He stopped at that, his gaze fierce in hers as he took her in, and then he seemed to pause, reflecting for a few moments before he continued:

“You never had any intention of letting me go.”

“What?”

“The chip comes out and we’re in for one last, good fight, isn’t that right?”

She swallowed hard, not believing what she was hearing.

“Is that what you really think? That I could do that? That I... planned it?”

Her voice broke and she looked away from him.

“Why shouldn’t you?” he asked. “I’m just another demon. I’ve seen the truth of your craft, Slayer. I’ve seen it in your eyes too many times not to understand how deep the intuition goes. You know what I am. You’ve always known. Tonight – wasn’t a shock. And this isn’t supposed to be what it is, it’s not supposed to be this way, any of it, I know that. What I feel for you... is wrong. God, I’m not completely daft, Buffy. I know you could never love me. But I also know you could never set something like me loose in the world.”

She stared at him now, then knitted her brow slowly.

“Then why did you say yes to the surgery?” she asked.

He met her gaze, and then merely smiled a little before shrugging.

“Maybe I wanted that last, good fight,” he said. He paused, wanting so much to touch her, wanting her to understand how much he felt for her, but realizing she never would. She couldn’t. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked. “Is that what you want?” She blinked, uncomprehending. “To hell with the chip. I’ll go tomorrow,” he then stated. “If you ask me to.”

She felt herself slow down, her feelings drained away.

“Please,” she then said, “go.”

He tilted his head a little to the side, the warmth back in his gaze before he gave a small nod and in the next blink he was out of sight. She stared at the empty spot he had left behind and felt herself start to shake. She made herself walk forward, and soon the shaking was controlled to soft spasms of trembling.

¤

Spike stayed out of sight for a long enough time to make sure any tingle he might give off in her spider senses wouldn’t occur. Then he followed. He moved at her side, watching her through branches and appearing and disappearing behind houses until they neared the campus; then he went ahead and waited, watching her walk up to the door of her dorm. Suddenly she paused, and he slid into the shadows behind the tree he was standing by. She looked his way for the longest time, then seemed to shake it off and went inside.

He glanced around the trunk, drawing a slow breath and sighing deeply.

¤

“Well, this should keep them apart, shouldn’t it?”

Ath glared at her big brother as he entered the living room.

“I thought we had more time.”

“I wonder when you will ever learn to listen to me.”

“And I wonder when you will ever learn to listen to yourself. Your intuition must be higher developed than what I’ve seen, and yet you cast that genius spell, didn’t you! You don’t get the privilege of passing blame, Cale.”

He grumbled something before joining at her side as they gazed out of the window, over the roofs, across streets and through gardens in order to find the vampire.

“He’s leaving,” Ath said.

“Looks like it. I never would have thought it.”

“Obviously.”

She hesitated, then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To stop him.”

Calor grabbed her arm the next instant.

“You can’t do that.”

“Father will skin us alive if that vampire leaves this town, don’t you understand that? Bortha has the power to strip us of our immortality and then what will we do with ourselves? Go to college? Settle down and raise a family? Does any part of a mortal life appeal to you, Cale?”

“It seems to appeal to you.”

“Is that the best answer you can come up with?” she shot. “I am not willing to sacrifice everything for it,” she added. “My place is where it has always been. Where I’m needed.”

“Did father tell you that’s what he will do?”

“No, but he said it’s one of the possibilities.”

“Even so, why didn’t he tell me?”

“You’ll have to take that up with him, Cale.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

“Because I didn’t want to put more pressure on you. But now... all may be lost. Let me see the vampire; perhaps there’s something I can do to stop him from making this mistake.”

Calor looked at his sister, letting the new information settle slightly and then getting himself together.

“If you were to go to Spike’s crypt, what would you say? ‘Don’t go’? He won’t listen to you. He’s already suspicious enough as it is. You can’t tell him the truth, or it would undoubtedly alternate the fabric of what we’ve come here to make sure will come to pass. We cannot intervene, Ath. And I know that you know that.”

He let her arm go and she took a step back, then sighed.

“What other choice do we have? Rather take the chance of alternating something, than to have him disappear and not be here at all!”

“Ath, you know better than that.”

“I will not fail this!”

“Nor will I. But if it’s meant to be, there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. He’ll find his way back, Ath. Later, if not sooner. You cannot fight Fate.”

Ath sunk down on the couch.

She had never felt so empty.

“Now, admit it,” Calor said with a small smile. “There are things you would miss.”

Ath returned his smile meekly.

“There are things I would miss,” she relented.

Then her face lit up. Calor took the expression in, not entirely sure he liked the look of it.

“What?”

Ath rose and walked into the kitchen. Calor slowly followed.

“What?” he repeated as she began to take things out of the pantry.

“He’s going to bed,” she said. “He’s sleepy. Sun’s almost up anyway. He won’t leave until tonight.” She slammed the flour down on the counter determinedly. “We have one more day.”

“To what? I’ve been trying to turn this over so I can see it from the right light, Ath, but how do you propose we manage this? Making him want to stay and her want him to stay without them staying here together? It’s impossible. Pandora’s box has been opened and, unfortunately, they both seem to like the contents. It’s not like they can put a lid on all of it.”

Ath began to measure sugar in a cup, ignoring him.

“Ath.”

“Be quiet. This is delicate work, I don’t need distractions.” She met his gaze when he refused to leave. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll figure it out. That’s why we’re here, right?”

He didn’t seem very enthusiastic about that reply.

¤

The next morning Buffy woke, looking up at her ceiling and feeling like she was still in the dream that must’ve woken her. Then it suddenly dawned on her that the dream hadn’t been a dream. She sat up, looking around the room. Then she smiled, shaking her head. No. He wouldn’t leave. Not that easily. Not with the chip intact. There was no way.

There was a knock on the door and she tensed, then it opened and Ath walked through it, a basket covered with a checkered piece of cloth in hand. She smiled a sunny smile, closing the door behind her and then coming up to the bed. She looked extremely fresh in a light blue summer dress, her hair in pretty locks spilling over her shoulders and a healthy glow on her cheek. Buffy wanted to glare, but couldn’t bring herself to it.

“Good morning,” the goddess chirped.

“Yes, it looks like it,” Buffy said. “What’s in the basket?”

Ath grabbed a corner of the cloth and demonstratively pulled it off in a ta-da fashion before she said:

“Muffins.”

“Really?” Buffy wondered. “You’re just teasing.”

“No,” Ath shook her head, putting the basket down on the bed. “Blueberry.”

Buffy grabbed one, sitting up. Ath watched her break a piece of the moist cake before putting it in her mouth, an approving look coming over the Slayer’s features, which had Ath smile. Then she sat down next to the blonde.

“What are you doing today?” the former asked.

“Not much,” Buffy shrugged. “I thought I’d take it easy for a change.”

“You can do that?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Ath smiled again.

“You don’t have anything else to do today?”

“It’s glorious Sunday, time for rest,” Buffy replied. “I do have to study, but I’m trying to forget that,” she added.

“It sounds nice. Self-orientation. I really liked Riley, by the way. It was nice to meet him. All your friends were great.”

“Thanks,” Buffy smiled. “I did the picking.”

Ath smirked.

“And the Bronze... Big on the liking.”

“It’s quite likable, I find,” Buffy nodded.

“Great music. Great dancing...”

Buffy glanced at her, then squared her shoulders, swallowing the last of her muffin and smiling. Images of the last dance she had shared with Spike on that dance floor shuffled lazily through her brain, his mouth next to her ear asking her if she wanted to leave. Her immediate response to him... A fifteen year olds thoughts of the perfect first time, thinking it would be with him. Being so ready. And now she had to wonder... no, she had to admit that it hadn’t merely been her younger self responding to him with such ease; it had been all of her.

“Yes,” she now replied to Ath, “the music’s always... great.”

She pushed her covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching as she rose and walked up to her closet. There was silence for a little while, then Ath inquired:

“Anything happen last night?”

“No, not really,” Buffy shrugged.

“Were you out late patrolling?”

“Yes, it got a bit later than I’d planned, but on the other hand I got a lot done. It was pretty eventful, actually.”

“Oh?”

Buffy clenched her jaws together, then turned to the other hesitantly.

“The guy you danced with at the Bronze,” she said slowly. “He’s a vampire.”

“I knew that,” Ath said.

“Oh. Well, then you might also already know that that was the guy I was talking about... The one that wasn’t Riley.” Ath merely cocked an eyebrow in wait for the Slayer to continue. “Spike,” Buffy finally said, coming back up to the bed. “That’s his name, if you can believe it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, his actual name’s William, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone to call him that now. He’s so dark and bad and evil,” she muttered.

“Really?” Ath repeated, this time sounding slightly amused.

Buffy looked at her, then leaned forward, resting her forehead in her hands.

“Last night I found out something about him that I hadn’t even considered a possibility,” she grumbled. “I’d told myself for too long that he’d gone housebroken. I’d forgotten that even the nice puppies can go all bite-y. And I’ll stop this analogy right now; I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong it is to put Spike in the likeness of a puppy. I just... I feel so stupid. And so... let down by him. Why do I have to feel like that? What the hell did I expect?”

Ath reached out a hand and gently placed it on Buffy’s back, softly letting it run up and down her spine.

Suddenly Buffy felt a burning sensation where Ath’s palm was and she jerked just as Ath quickly removed her hand, looking guiltily at the Slayer. Buffy was about to ask what for, when Ath beat her to it, rising before saying:

“Buffy, Spike might not be the brightest shining star in the sky, but even the most spotted light deserves a chance to fight the darkness.”

With that she left, silently praying that whatever happened would buy more time.

Buffy looked at the door as it closed, perplexed; then she shifted her gaze to the still remaining basket and after a moment’s contemplation she reached out, grabbing another muffin.

¤

“It is ridiculous that I can’t even hint at what I want to get across to her!” Ath exclaimed, making her father turn to face her.

“Ath, in this place we do not raise our voice.”

“How are we supposed to get her to understand, when we can’t even shove her in the right direction!”

“And here I thought you were doing a wonderful job at it,” Bortha smiled.

She shook her head.

“Is this a game, father? I feel as though I am a Dwindle piece being blown about by unseen forces.”

“It is called life, daughter,” Bortha replied.

“Why can’t I ease her out of her doubts and fears? Last time it worked almost as planned. I didn’t think that was outside the guidelines, but you hurt my hand,” she said the last accusingly, massaging her left hand with her right.

“Use your head, child.”

And with that he sent her back to Earth.

She opened her eyes with a slight snarl, kicking the nearest tree.

“Ath?”

She stopped, collected herself and turned to face Jonathan.

“Hi,” she smiled. “I... saw a spider,” she added. “Terrifying little critters, aren’t they?”

Jonathan smirked at that. They began walking side by side.

“So... about that Bronze thing we talked about. Does Tuesday work for you?” he wondered.

She looked at him, swallowing.

“Sure,” she mumbled.

They were quiet for a little while and then he slipped one hand in hers, linking their fingers together.

“Good,” he said.

“Yes, good,” she agreed, smiling slightly.

It was a strange emotion which followed that small gesture of his. Warmth and flowing excitement. She felt as though he wanted to be there, and she wanted to be there, and so they were there together. And it was the best feeling she had yet experienced. She turned her head to look at him and before she knew why, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

He looked surprised, but then smiled as she did so.

She stepped closer to him and they kept walking in comfortable silence.

¤

Tara and Willow came into the room at nine-thirty that evening, finding Buffy asleep at her desk. Willow made an awww-face and Tara smiled.

“Should we wake her?” she whispered.

Willow checked her watch, then tentatively stepped up to her friend, shaking her shoulder gently and leaning forward, softly saying:

“Buffy.” Buffy moaned. “Buffy... It’s late.”

The Slayer’s head shot up, hitting Willow on the nose and making the Wicca take a few uncertain steps backward, massaging the sore spot as Tara came up to give her support.

“How late?” Buffy asked, grabbing the clock standing on one of the shelves of her desk and peering at it. “Oh, great,” she said. “Now I can sleep!”

She got to her feet and turned to the other two, then grabbed her coat and headed for the door, stopping and walking back to get a stake. She eyed it and then tucked it at the small of her back. Heading back up to the door, she walked through it, closed it, and then opened it again, sticking her head in:

“I’m going on patrol.”

She closed the door, then opened it once more, saying:

“Is your nose okay? I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Willow nodded.

The door closed again and then it opened for a third time, the Slayer walking inside and going up to her desk, grabbing a hairclip and pulling her hair out of her eyes, looking at her coat and throwing it over the back of the chair before heading up to her closet, quickly choosing another one and then going for the door. She paused, looked at the two Wicca’s, then smiled.

“Bye,” she said.

She walked out of the dorm with controlled steps.

She would take a look around campus first, then head to the town, sweep the center, the cemeteries, the outskirts. She’d check in on Revello Drive and then head back to the dorm. Not very complicated.

But her legs carried her elsewhere.

He won’t have left, she told herself. It’s not possible. He’s too stubborn.

And still she started running. And still there was a terrible sense of apprehension within her.

She reached his cemetery, not slowing down until his crypt came into view, and then she came to a full stop, her chest heaving.

I can’t go in there, she thought.

Her mouth was growing dry. Her palms felt clammy, her shoulders were covered with goose bumps. She realized she was frightened. Finally she straightened her posture and willed herself forward. Reaching the door she paused, touching the rough wood and convincing herself that there would be candles burning in there, that the television would be on, that he’d be there. Even when she knew it was a lie, she truly believed it; until she actually pushed the door open and stepped inside.

There were no candles burning.

It was dark, and cold.

She walked slowly to the middle of the crypt and stopped there, looking around. She wanted to think that he was just out, as he always was at this hour, but she could feel the abandonment the place was suffering. The fact that someone had made an issue of leaving it. The fact that he had.

She stared at the loveseat.

The TV was gone. The candelabras as well. She stood on her toes and saw that the cushions also had been removed. Or sold, she guessed. She made her way up to the ladder and carefully climbed down it. Pitch black enveloped her, but she had her night vision and it guided her through it. The bedroom floor was now covered with the oriental rugs and she smiled sadly. The bed was still there, though it had been stripped. Both bedside tables were missing.

And then something tore inside of her.

It was over.

She slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

She had asked, and for once he had listened.

And then quiet tears rose. She couldn’t control them, and thus let them be. They welled over and softly slipped down her cheeks. She moved over to lie down on the mattress, folding herself into a fetal position and closing her eyes.

¤

The headlights of a black DeSoto cut through the thickness of night as it rode down the stretch of highway leading away from Sunnydale. The vampire was behind the wheel. He was just thinking how he should be used to the torn feeling inside him. Half of him knew he was doing the right thing for the first time in much too long... and the other half was crying out that he was a bloody wanker who was ruining an existence that might’ve gotten back to how it used to be if he’d only not gotten dashed over the head with this sudden sodding sense of nobility!

The chip, the chip, the chip, that half yelled. Where are you gonna go? What’re you gonna do with it in the back of your skull! For eternity!

He clenched his jaws together.

He would see this through, there was no other way.

And never seeing her again? a voice prodded gently. Never touching her again? Never tricking her to smile... Never arguing with her? Can you live with that?

“Her words,” he muttered in response, “I’ll learn.”

You won’t be able to keep away for long, the voice taunted.

We’ll see, he thought. I’m a quick study.

Deep down he knew it was fruitless, though, to struggle against this breaking sensation inside. The farther he moved away from her, the less he felt as though anything mattered anymore. The purpose was taken away. His first selfless act in decades had been brought forth by this blossoming emotion in his chest, had been executed because of her, because he loved her and truly believed she would be better off without the black noise that he was in her life. But as the lights of the city she inhabited were gliding out of sight, he also came to the conclusion that she had given him something. A reflection of himself in her eyes. He had seen himself the way she saw him and hadn’t liked what he had become.

He knew she could never let herself love him in the form that he was. He could walk around the subject like a predator, hunt her and bring her to her knees before him and it would still do nothing to make her believe in him.

The breaking became more violent.

He wanted her belief.

He wanted her to look at him the way she had when she had uttered those dire words, the words that had stayed by him, if not always obvious, then always hovering close by...

“You act like you don’t have a choice in who you are, but you do. I know there’s a demon in there, and it’s fierce and argh and makes with the blood; but there’s also a remaining human being, Spike. You may not think so, but I’ve seen him. I’ve seen you.”

He glared ahead, trying to block the sentences out once and for all, but it was impossible. They were stampeding through his brain, leaving their prints everywhere and finally he slammed his foot on the break, the car coming to a screeching and dragged out halt.

¤

When We Teeter

¤

Buffy was a tenth of a second away from falling asleep when the door opened upstairs, the slow scrape of it followed by footsteps. She blinked, propping herself up on her elbows and watching the ceiling. She reached for her stake, sliding off the bed carefully and standing just as she heard the ladder creak. A moment later she stared at Spike as he entered the room, stopping as his gaze met hers.

She couldn’t believe it.

The relief that filled her at the sight of him was extreme enough to make her quiver.

“Should’ve figured you’d be here,” he muttered, slipping his duster off and throwing it over one of the chests before he paused, eyeing her for a moment. “Then again – why are you here?”

She put the stake down on the bed, her gaze not leaving his.

“Thought you’d left,” she murmured.

“So did I,” he said.

Her face didn’t change and he couldn’t read it.

“I don’t know what happened,” he finally said, voice lowered. “I don’t bloody get this... What I feel when I’m with you. Or just near you. But it’s... changed me. It’s made me want to change. I want something... more. I want you.”

“Spike...” she began, but he wouldn’t be stopped, approaching her.

“I’m in love with you.”

She stared at him, her lower lip trembling with unspoken things.

Then she replied:

“You don’t even know me.”

He smiled at that, stopping before her.

“I know you,” he disagreed softly.

She had a swirl in the pit of her stomach, fighting against it, but unable to stop it.

“Thought you think I’m set on killing you,” she said, her gaze growing forceful in his as he was so close.

“I was set on killing you... look how that turned out.”

“You just don’t listen, do you? I can’t trust you.”

He eyed her, then replied:

“I don’t want the chip out.” Her eyes widened slightly at that. “Leave it in. If it gives you a sense of...”

“Of what?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Control? The chip isn’t a vouch for your honesty.”

“I’m staying. I’ll prove to you that I...”

“Prove to me? There’s no way for you to prove anything to me. You’ve happily looked me in the eye for the past few weeks without even considering telling me about your little side-business...”

“Because I didn’t... think, Buffy!”

“... and you would’ve gone on keeping me in oblivion for... how long? With a clean conscience! You think I could feel anything for someone who can’t tell the truth and who constantly goes around lying to me! And who can’t stop telling me all these things that I can’t possibly deal with and who doesn’t respect the fact that I have a boyfriend who loves me and cares for me and who I love back and I’m in a healthy relationship and you think I’d give that up for someone who smokes and gambles with harmless animals and fights with me and has hated me a lot longer than he’s claimed he loves me!”

He looked at her, for once speechless and she met his gaze before she grumbled, pushing him out of the way and heading for the ladder.

“If there’s nothing there...” he then asked; making her slow down against her will before adding: “what are you doing here?”

She was brimming with all these impressions. All these tumbling thoughts of what was right and what was her duty and how she couldn’t do this again. She could not feel this way, in any way, about another immortal. And he had left, just like Angel.

But... here he was, back and telling her that he loved her and that he wouldn’t go... And it made her quake with a longing that mixed with her blood; ran through her as easily as anything. And she wanted to smile at him because of it. But the way he made her feel powerful and needed and funny and warm and safe, it wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

“This isn’t real,” she mumbled, just when his hand caught her wrist and turned her around to face him.

“Look at me and say that again,” he urged gently. “Tell me that you really don’t feel anything. That it’s all in my head. That you don’t have the exact same bloody craving running through you right now, that I have... That all you want from me is what I do to you when the bleeding light’s out. If you tell me that, right now, I’ll believe you. And I won’t bring it up again. ...But I can’t go. So don’t ask me.”

Tears rose as she rested her gaze in his. She couldn’t get the words out.

He loved her. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it every time he touched her. And everything she had begun to feel for him when she was in the middle of the spell... all that she had refused to let it develop into since she’d gotten back to herself... She couldn’t help the way hearing him say what she had wanted to hear him say, when she was younger, had the same effect now. She couldn’t help it.

He watched her, waiting for her to respond, and finally it came.

She gently moved closer.

He knew that had he had a pulse, it would’ve been racing by now. She placed her hands softly on either side of his face. He could see how there was both tenderness and pain in her eyes. She was frightened of this, he knew that. He understood it. But she had to realize that he would never hurt her. His palms slid around to her back, carefully pushing her close to him and she moved her arms to wrap them around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder before nuzzling her nose into his chest.

He closed his eyes, taking in her scent and relaxing for the first time in a long time. He had been afraid he would never get to do this again, have her near. And her arms around him meant something; he had seen it in her face. He was right when he said that there was more between them than she wanted to acknowledge. He had to be, or she wouldn’t be in his hold right now. He felt a tingle of triumphant joy. She didn’t need him away from her, she needed him here. He had made the right choice in coming back.

She felt like she could stay with him and forget about the world beyond his embrace. It was so easy. If she just let herself give in she wouldn’t have to deal with all the things that made her think that the passion she felt for him was wrong. And dear God, she had been so scared she’d lost him. So certain she’d never see him again. Convinced that it had all been for nothing. All the wondering, all the agony over what was happening with her. And with his scent filling her head she breathed truth.

And she broke away, taking a trying step backwards as she didn’t feel like her legs would carry her.

It was too real.

He stared at her.

He wanted to pull her back, but his arms hung limp at his sides.

No.

“I’m with Riley,” she murmured. “I... love him.”

“Don’t hesitate if you’re gonna tell me that,” he said, voice lowered, each word with the threat of growl behind it.

“I love him.”

He felt like hot coals were running down his back. He shivered; just as suddenly seized with a chill that went right into his bones. He feared it would stay there, freezing him from inside, and presenting him with no way of thawing it.

Buffy.

She began to move toward the ladder. There was nothing he wouldn’t have given up, to make her stay.

“Don’t go,” was the only plea he could conjure.

She stopped, turning partially to him and then saying slowly:

“Things lose shape in the dark, ever notice that? The night makes everything seem... simpler. You and I – we’re best looked at in daylight. Bright, shiny sunlight. That’s what I need.”

“That’d destroy me,” he murmured, and he saw her check herself before she blinked at her still wet eyes.

“Then you’re not what I need,” she said, but her voice cracked and she turned from him.

He let her go, watching her feet disappear up the ladder.

¤

Buffy knocked on Riley’s door the following morning. She had barely slept, and ran her hands through her hair self-consciously. No matter how she’d tried it seemed the theme she was sporting for the day was Un-Mildly Disheveled. Both outside, and in.

The door opened and she smiled weakly.

“Hi,” he said, not having expected her, but looking happy she was there.

“Hi,” she merely replied. “I just wanted to...”

“What’re you kidding, standing in the hallway like that?” he smiled, putting a hand firmly at the small of her back and escorting her inside the room.

He closed the door and she walked up to the window, staring at the green lawn below for the longest time.

“Buffy?” Riley broke the spell and she drew a small breath, but didn’t turn to him.

“Spike... changed his mind,” she said.

“About?”

“About the surgery tonight,” she murmured. “He wants the chip to stay in.”

Riley furrowed his brow.

“Why would he want that?”

She clenched her jaws together, then slowly turned to face him. Riley met her gaze, wondering. She shrugged a little, trying a small smile again. He smiled back, but his eyes were studying her. She pulled her hands through her hair once more, sighing, and he walked up to her, rubbing her upper arms before wrapping his around her.

“I have to go,” she said, looking up at him and moving out of his hold.

“You just got here.”

“To tell you that the operation’s off,” she said. “I have class.”

“See you later?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with another smile.

He watched her go up to the door and through it, closing it behind her. He waited a little while and then headed out as well.

¤

Spike woke up from ice-cold water being poured over him. A second later he was torn out of bed and slammed up against a wall, any form of sleepiness being well out of his system as his eyes met Riley’s. Spike looked quizzical at the mortal’s fury, but Riley wouldn’t have it as he raised the hand not holding Spike’s throat, and put the tip of a stake to the vampire’s chest.

“Whoa, okay, hey!” Spike exclaimed. “I don’t have any information to give, Adam hasn’t been around lately. Now point that thing somewhere else.”

“You know that’s not what I’m here for,” Riley gritted and Spike smiled a little, looking up at the human.

“You here ‘cause of the chip?”

“I saw how you looked at her. At Giles’. You think this is gonna work? It won’t.”

Spike glanced at the stake and finally Riley brought it down, letting the vamp go as he stepped back.

“Look at you,” Spike smirked, circling him. “All stiff-lipped and glare-eyed. You think this is all about the girl?” he wondered, stopping in front of Riley. “You’re absolutely right,” he finished. “And if you think coming here waving my death around in my face ‘ll make me back off, you really have no idea what you’re dealing with. I understand why you’d fight for her, though. So you do that. I’ll just stay right here, and wait ‘til she comes to me.”

Riley took a step forward, towering over the vampire.

“She never will. I know her.”

“You know the Slayer,” Spike retorted. “How well do you really know Buffy?”

He tilted his head a little to the side, questioning look on his face before he smiled slightly, walking passed the other and up to the bed, lifting the soaked sheet and looking at the mortal meaningfully before he reached for his pack of smokes.

The stake swooshed by his forehead and smashed against the wall above the bed, making him turn his head to Riley, who gave him a dark look before disappearing from sight.

Spike heard him ascend the ladder and growled to himself. Sure, the vampire was always good at putting on a show, but in reality he couldn’t stand the thought of how the mortal represented everything the vampire could never be for her. Then again, why had the human felt the need to pay him a visit?

He muttered to himself before changing side of the bed, pulling the sheet up and soon going back to sleep.

¤

Buffy mashed another handful of popcorn into her mouth as she watched the movie on the TV-screen.

“I really didn’t know that dancing chimps could be this entertaining,” she said to Calor, who sat beside her, popcorn not anywhere near him.

“Some might call it an acquired taste,” he smiled and she returned it.

She had needed a spot of social change after seeing Spike and then Riley and the turmoil now raging beneath her ribcage; and had decided to go home and see how Ath and Calor were doing. They were doing splendidly, and she felt sort of strange in her own home; like she was imposing on them. And they kept looking at her, seemingly thinking she didn’t notice, and then exchanging glances with each other. Meaningful glances. And it was making her nerves tighten even more than they had during the day.

The chimps were helping with loosening them, though; and the Slayer tried to focus on that.

“My brother is becoming quite the expert on the television phenomenon,” Ath said. “He is actually quite obnoxious, throwing in quotes here and there, acting as though it’s the most normal thing in the world. Laughing at me when I don’t get the joke. He’s even getting Jonathan to duo up on me!”

“Ath, the Slayer isn’t about to beat down the fact that you’re not as well-informed as you thought yourself to be, that’s not what she uses her power for! TV is an excellent source of information, and I am a sponge.”

“You did not just say that,” Ath rolled her eyes.

“I’m blue,” he added to Buffy, who was smirking. “Shaped like a cloud.”

Ath picked up a popcorn and dipped it into the chocolate syrup she kept at her side. Calor gave her a disgusted look and she smiled sweetly before putting it in her mouth.

“Have you seen the way she eats anything swimming in sugar?”

“It’s a woman’s prerogative,” Buffy defended. “How else are we supposed to put up with you guys?”

“Amen to that,” Ath nodded.

“We’re that bad?” Calor wondered. “And yet every other word out of her mouth is Jonathan.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, huh?”

“I guess,” Ath shrugged and Calor snorted. “Yeah, I have,” Ath corrected, throwing a popcorn at her brother. “He’s fun and nice and... cute,” she then smiled, Buffy smiling as well, then she grew serious.

Calor looked at her before he exchanged another glance with Ath.

“Oh, my gosh, they’re bringing in the gorilla,” Buffy said just as he was about to open his mouth.

She put a popcorn in her mouth and fixed her gaze on the TV again.

¤

A few hours later she was trying to fall asleep, lying in her bed. She wondered why it was that she had sought her way back home so many times over the passed few weeks. She liked college life, she enjoyed living semi-alone; she did miss her mother, but Joyce wasn’t the reason she kept coming back to the house.

You know why.

No, I don’t.

Buffy, you know why.

She closed her eyes tightly, then grumbled and rolled over on her side. Opening her eyes again they landed on her window. She clenched her jaws together, slowly pushing her covers off and getting to her feet, carefully walking up to it and stopping in front of it, glancing down and then leaning against it, resting her forehead against the cool glass.

She didn’t want to listen to his voice, persistent in her head. His words slipping through her brain in a loop that was never ending, it seemed. Speaking of love and change, whispering promises that should be empty and hollow to her, but instead granted her the most amazing peace.

“God damn it!” she suddenly exclaimed, crashing her fist into one of the panes and having it split into a dozen shimmering pieces.

She took a step back in surprise.

“Buffy,” Ath’s voice sounded from the doorway, its tone reflecting the Slayer’s emotion as she turned to face the goddess. “What are you doing?”

Buffy looked at the cuts on top of her hand and Ath noticed them too, frowning as she came into the room.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, grabbing Buffy’s wrist.

“It was an accident,” Buffy replied, pulling her hand out of the other’s grip and walking up to her desk, opening a drawer and getting out a first aid kit.

Her movements were jerky as she got the lid off. She was fighting back tears she felt she couldn’t justify; the wounds barely stung. And then Ath’s fingers were by hers, making them stop their plucking as the dark haired said:

“Let me.”

Buffy didn’t look at her, merely had a seat on the floor and Ath grabbed the kit, having a seat opposite her and beginning to clean the blood away.

“Who are you? Really?” the Slayer asked.

“If I asked you that, could you answer that question? Could you define yourself?”

“I could try.” Ath cocked an eyebrow. “And I’d fail. Miserably,” Buffy sighed.

Ath met her gaze, putting the finishing touch to the bandage before she replied:

“I am here as a friend, Buffy. Do you trust that?”

The Slayer observed her for a moment, then nodded.

“It’s just...” she began, the sound of Calor’s voice, calling for his sister, interrupting her.

Ath looked apologetic.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, go ahead,” Buffy smiled.

“Are you... okay?” Ath wondered.

“I’ll be fine. Go,” Buffy urged.

Ath rose and disappeared through the door, and Buffy sunk back against the foot of her bed. Her left hand gingerly played with the tips of the bandage. She felt stupid, suddenly. And then her fingers went to her forehead, massaging it as she closed her eyes.

¤

Spike stared at the candle before him. Its flame was bright enough to light up the space that was the crypt. He watched it as it danced on its wick, oblivious to the role it played in the world. Never to understand that it filled a function; that it was there for a reason... that it had a purpose.

He had been sitting there for a very long time.

Inside there was an enormous feeling of terror, brought forth by the knowledge that what he was doing now was not only turning from his nature, but also the very web in which he had existed for as long as he could bloody well remember. He was crawling out of it, abandoning all that was connected with sense and leaving it for that candle on the table. Leaving dark and empty nights to come and sit in its light. To be warmed by its glow.

He buried his face in his hands, pulling his fingers into his hair as he rested his forehead against his palms.

What the hell was he going to do? With himself. With her.

What was he supposed to do?

“I can’t just sit here and bloody wait,” he grumbled.

But he didn’t know what to say to her.

¤

Speak to Me

¤

The following morning Buffy called in sick. When Willow got back to the room in the afternoon, the Slayer was gone. She didn’t return until eleven o’clock, and the redhead put her book down to eye her friend. They hadn’t really had a conversation since the one they’d had that night after the Bronze. It seemed Buffy had chosen to ignore what had been said, and go on as though it hadn’t even happened. But Willow couldn’t do that.

“Hi,” she now said.

“Hey, Wills,” Buffy smiled distractedly, walking up to her weapon’s drawer and replacing the stakes she’d taken out earlier.

Adding a few small bottles of holy water she shut the drawer and threw the bag on her bed, beginning to unbutton her coat and obviously being oblivious to the scrutiny she was under.

“I thought you wanted to go over the math homework for Thursday,” Willow remarked and Buffy looked at her briefly, putting the coat in her closet and beginning to undress.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that,” she said. “I’ve just been...”

She trailed off, huffing as she pulled her boots off. Grabbing her pajamas, she pulled the top on. Willow went back to her book with a sigh.

“Preoccupied?” she muttered.

Buffy went to brush her teeth, returning and crawling under the covers.

“Night,” she said.

Willow frowned, closing the book and placing it on her nightstand. She looked over at the other.

“Buffy,” she said silently, hesitating before she finished: “is there something going on...?”

“Will... I’m sleepy, okay? Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“So... there’s something to talk about?”

“Willow,” Buffy whined.

“Fine. Fine. Tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Buffy wanted to close her eyes, but couldn’t. She really was tired, but was only lying down because she had been on her feet for the passed ten hours. Patrolling streets in broad day light, hoping for a sign of Adam, finding nothing. And then patrolling after darkness set, just for the sake of it, not meeting a single dustable victim. And no un-dustable either.

She had been afraid of running into Spike, not sure of how to possibly face him. And yet she had wanted to get that first encounter over with. Because she wasn’t asking him to leave, not again. And so, he was staying. It was okay. It would be perfectly alright.

“It will,” she whispered to herself.

¤

The next day Buffy sat at her desk, reading a book and eating an apple. Willow glanced up at her from the bed, unsure of how to bring up the subject of last night, whatever it may be. Finally she asked:

“Do you think Ath could be a witch?”

Buffy stopped chewing, turning her head to her friend and frowning.

“No. Why?”

“I dunno,” the Wicca shrugged. “She just seems to have that quality.”

“Witch radar?” Buffy quipped and Willow gave her a look.

“I just thought that I saw her do something the other day... And the girl has to use magic for her baking, no one can get the chocolate chips to mix that evenly with the batter,” she stated firmly, making Buffy laugh. Willow smiled. “It’s been a while since you did that.”

“I guess,” Buffy said, growing serious in the next moment and putting down the book. “What did you see?”

Willow looked quizzical.

“You said you saw something that Ath did.”

“Oh, right... I might’ve been wrong, but I thought I saw her writing something on the ground right outside your house. She didn’t see me, but when I went up to the spot – after she went back in – I couldn’t see anything there.”

Buffy smiled, taking a bite out of her apple.

“And this is reasons to think she’s connected with the higher powers?” she asked, Willow returning the smile.

“No, I guess I’m being silly. There’s something about her, though. Makes me think she’s not what we think she is.”

“I know that feeling,” Buffy nodded thoughtfully. “It’s strange, I could swear I’ve tried to ask her about it... but I can’t remember what she’s answered.”

“Maybe you should try again,” Willow remarked and Buffy sighed.

“I will. It’s not a threatening question mark, though.”

“But when you think about it, since when did you befriend question marks? You’re the very vanquisher of question marks. You dislike question marks with heated passion. If there ever is a question mark, the Slayer is there to...”

“Okay,” Buffy stopped her, getting off the chair and walking up to her friend’s bed, taking a seat next to the other. “But I admit... it’s weird. Isn’t it?”

Willow nodded, then eyed her friend for a few moments before carefully saying:

“Haven’t seen much of Spike lately.”

Buffy smiled a weak smile at that, not looking at the redhead.

“No, we’re... keeping to our different sides of the fence,” she said.

“Must be a high fence,” Willow remarked and Buffy looked quizzical. “Well, Spike’s never been the one to bow out gracefully.”

“Right,” the Slayer murmured.

“What’s with the face?” Willow asked, suddenly smiling. “You have to agree that if there’s one thing that vampire can’t do, it’s keep out of your business. Maybe it’s a good sign, though. He’s over you. He’s realized that it’s never gonna happen and he’s moved passed it. Maybe even grown a little because of it. Wouldn’t that be funny? Spike evolving because of some warped...”

“Stop,” Buffy said, voice low and eyes not on her friend.

Willow furrowed her brow.

“It’s so easy,” the Slayer finally picked up, “to look at something and think you’re seeing exactly what’s there, isn’t it? God, Willow, you should know better than to judge the outside like that.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen what’s inside of him,” Willow shot. “I almost had the bite marks to show for it.”

“That’s not all of him,” Buffy mumbled. “That’s just...”

“The demon?” Willow filled in. “Buffy, you’re scaring me.”

“Not as much as I scare me,” Buffy shook her head, rising and walking up to the trash-bin to throw away the skeleton of the apple. “Not as much as this whole thing terrifies me. But, I’ve seen him change, Will. I can’t help it. I can’t. I believe in him, and I can’t turn back from that. I believe that he can be a better man. I believe that he wants to be. He doesn’t want the chip removed. He made that decision.”

Willow shook her head.

“Buffy, listen to yourself. God, with the chip in his head he doesn’t have to worry about it, does he? He can earn a corner of trust with you, and he won’t really have to work for it, will he? He’s leashed. I don’t know how you make that right, but I think it’s wrong. He wants to show self-control, fine. If you believe he could, then I have to believe in you, Buffy. But self-control with the chip? What is that?”

“You were coming down on me when I wanted to remove it, and now you’re coming down on me ‘cause it’s staying in?” Buffy asked, disbelieving.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Willow replied. “And I’m really trying not to be biased here, but what makes you think it’s real?”

Buffy clenched her jaws together, turning to the window and looking outside, her right hand unconsciously beginning to fiddle with the cross around her neck.

“The way he looks at me,” she then said. “That’s real.”

Willow swallowed, taking the profile of her friend in before asking silently:

“Are you in love with him?”

The fiddling slowed, the Slayer’s gaze seemed caught on something far away, and then she snapped out of it, turning her eyes back in Willow’s.

“I can’t... love him,” she said.

“You can’t choose who to love,” Willow remarked. “Believe me, I know.”

Buffy smiled weakly, her face was suddenly pale and her eyes were growing sad. The burden Willow had noticed on the Slayer seemed to grow even heavier.

“Not exactly the same; is it?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Buffy gave her a look at that, and Willow felt wounded by it in a way she didn’t know if Buffy had ever hurt her before.

“I’m too tired to get into it,” Buffy then stated, “and I’m pretty sure you’d never be able to hear it anyway.”

“That’s not fair...”

“It’s not, huh?” Buffy wondered. “Will, you’ve been rooting for me and Riley ever since the first second you knew he was interested. I didn’t tell you, ‘cause I already knew what you think. You’ve made sure I know.”

“How can you say that like I did something wrong!” Willow exclaimed, getting to her feet as well. “I saw how happy you were, how happy he made you. Think I’d want anything less for you, after seeing everything you went through with Angel? Think I’ll stand here now and go whoopdidoo over the fact that you’re standing over there, telling me that you’re in love with another vampire? You know it’ll end badly, Buffy. All the reasons you had not to be with Angel, they’re there, between you and Spike, only magnified by a thousand. He doesn’t have a soul! There’s nothing in him that feels remorse; that feels compassion; that feels anything at all!”

At that Buffy nearly slapped her. The Slayer’s hand raised and then hung mid-air as both pairs of eyes widened with realization of what had almost happened. Willow stared at her. Buffy lowered her arm, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry...” Buffy said; then her face grew set in stone as she repeated: “I can’t love him. Because you’re right; he’s dead. And the last thing I need... is more death in my life.”

Willow looked at her, seeing the countenance on her; the irreproachable face of the Slayer, before the latter turned and walked up to her closet, bringing her coat out.

“I’ll be back late,” she said.

“Buffy,” Willow tried, but the other was already out the door.

The Wicca sat back on the bed.

Alright, here was the path of ugly.

Willow tried to get her thoughts to work coherently, but she couldn’t. This mindset was too new. She had watched the Slayer and the Vamp interact. She had noticed ease between them, an ease that she wasn’t even sure the two of them were aware of. She slowly got off the bed and took out her jacket, putting it on and leaving the dorm.

There was someone she needed to speak with.

¤

Spike turned his head as there was a knock at the door. He furrowed his brow. Knocks didn’t come often, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He was pretty sure. Getting up he walked up to it and opened it, his eyebrows rising as he took in the small frame of the redhead. She smiled tryingly, waving one hand a little.

“Hey,” she said.

He couldn’t hide his questioning expression.

“Hi,” he then replied.

“Can I come in?” she wondered. “If you’re busy I can come back...”

“Not at all,” he assured, stepping back and widening the opening for her to step through it.

He closed the door behind her.

“Wow,” she said, looking around. “It’s very you,” she added, turning to him.

He smiled tentatively.

“It’s not a whole lot more than a hole in the ground,” he said. “But thanks for your consideration.”

She smiled a small smile, her body-language telling him just how not relaxed she was.

“You, if anyone, should know I can’t bite,” he remarked. “Please, have a seat. Buffy had the place poshed up, but I sold most of it when I left.”

Willow frowned.

“You left?” she asked, walking up to the loveseat to sit down, as he walked into the kitchen to get a glass and some juice.

“Orange okay?” he wondered.

“Fine,” she nodded, waiting until he came up and handed her the glass. “You left?” she then repeated as he sat down next to her, cup of blood in hand.

“Briefly,” he confirmed.

She eyed him for a few seconds, and then she asked:

“Why?”

He eyed her back.

“Why are you here, Red?”

She took a mouthful of orange juice, then fastened her gaze in his again.

“Do you understand what this is doing to her?” she inquired.

He stared at the Wicca, taken aback. He hadn’t thought she was here for Buffy. He hadn’t thought Buffy had told her. Then again, perhaps she hadn’t. He wondered exactly what had brought Willow to his doorstep. He looked away from her, feeling strangely small under the others probing observation.

“What ‘what’ is doing to her?”

“What do you want from her, Spike? What is this to you? If you’re playing games, so help me, I’ll...”

He glared at her at that.

“I don’t demand a bloody thing from her that she’s not willing to give.”

“Willing? I don’t think ‘will’ has anything to do with this anymore...” She trailed off, and he didn’t want to push for more of an explanation. “I’ve seen how much you hate her,” she added.

“And I’ve felt it,” he bit back. “And now...” His gaze grew searching as he looked for the right words, but he couldn’t find them. “Is this why you’ve come?” he then asked. “To question me?”

He seemed somewhat amused by this, and he somewhat was.

“I want you to make me believe, the way you’ve made her believe.”

He felt something dead inside of him slowly come alive at those words.

Willow watched the most dramatic change she’d ever seen on a face. He seemed to grow younger, his forehead smoothed, his lips bore a slight smile, and his eyes began to sparkle with a sudden light that mixed with the blue and made the iris’ bear the color of infinite skies. It was remarkable.

“Buffy is... impossible,” he then said, keeping the small smile on. “She’s stubborn, self-righteous, a know-it-all who actually likes to fight me... Those are some of her best qualities,” he smirked, and Willow had to smile as well, despite herself. “She’s... vulnerable,” he then said. “She has this rough exterior, but if you can get to what’s beneath it...” He trailed off. “She’s funny, but not in an obvious way, even to her. ...She looks at you, and you can see those wheels in her head bloody turning, trying to figure you out.” He paused, smiling again as he added: “Or maybe that’s just with me.”

Willow smiled once more, intent on listening.

“She’s soft,” he said, voice growing quiet as he seemed to be talking more to himself. “And warm. And un-surprisingly flexible.” Another smile, though his gaze was drifting somewhere Willow couldn’t see. “And if I could take here away from here, I would,” he finished, fixing his eyes in Willow’s again. “If I could protect her from all of it, I would. But I can’t. It’s who she is. And she doesn’t need me to. Wouldn’t want me to, I understand that. And it’s part of what I love about her. She’s a warrior. She has a fire inside that’ll never burn out. She may want it to, but she couldn’t let it. What I can do is help. Carry some of the burden. Give her a few hours of extra sleep. That’s why I came back, I reckon. That and the fact that I don’t wanna be where she isn’t.”

Willow watched him for a few moments in silence.

She hadn’t thought she would be this easily persuaded, but everything about him spoke nothing but truth. Was he this good an actor, then?

“You’ve had a few days to practice that; haven’t you?” she asked.

He smirked.

“In front of the mirror?” he wondered, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t have a reflection.”

“You know, I’ve often wondered how you guys keep yourselves looking the way you do. And why do the clothes go all invisible, too? Are they suddenly part of the whole curse simply ‘cause you put them on? And isn’t it strange, to not have seen your own face for a hundred years?”

He smiled at that.

“Portraits, love,” he replied. “Me and Dru used to get ours done all the time. We ate the artists afterwards, of course... Two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“Please, no speaking,” Willow shook her head. She hesitated, then continued: “I don’t think I think you deserve her.”

He smiled a little.

“I know I don’t,” he retorted.

¤

Buffy walked with a determination that felt plastered on.

She didn’t know where she was headed. She felt as though darkness was suffocating every sense within her, until there was nothing left but a single ray of flickering light, struggling to guide her. It was so faint that she didn’t know where it wished to lead her. So she extinguished it, and let her convictions take over. Through shadows they carried her easily, told her where to step, and as she didn’t stumble, she began to trust that they were right.

Her confessions to Willow earlier had made her waver, but it had been for only a fraction of a second.

She reached into one of the pockets of her coat and felt the object there. It was sleek and cold against her fingers. Small, silvered, and his. His. Thus, it didn’t belong with her, did it? Didn’t belong to her. Wasn’t hers to hold onto in any way.

She entered the graveyard hosting his crypt. It was quiet. She slowed her step. Approaching his door seemed to have grown into a process, without her fully realizing it. She had to check her heart beat, check what she wanted to say, get everything straight since there was no room for error.

Fleetingly she imagined what it would be like to be running down the path, without a care as to what façade she would have to put up once she stood before him. Imagined him readily opening the door, her arms wrapping around him...

She clenched her jaws together, chasing the image away.

No.

All she could think was no.

That was never, not ever, going to happen.

She stopped before the door.

Placing a hand against the roughened wood she wanted to turn and walk away. Tomorrow night she could do this. Tomorrow night she could rip everything apart. But then she drove it away. No turning back now. It was what it was, and would be what it had to be.

Suddenly the door opened.

He looked wondering. Slightly humored. A little surprised, perhaps. But mostly, pleasantly surprised to see her.

She walked passed him.

“Wasn’t sure you’d be here,” she said.

He shut the door, turning to her.

She rested her eyes in his and not a single word would come over her lips. Last time she had seen him had been so painful, had made her understand that she had to end it. It couldn’t go farther. Then again, how could it go farther than this?

“I shouldn’t ‘ve come back,” he finally murmured.

He saw the immediate disagreement in her gaze.

“What do you want, then?” he asked.

She swallowed hard.

“I...”

She trailed off. Her hand still in the pocket of her coat, keeping a tight grip on what she had come to return to him.

“Here’s something new: had a bleeding tête-à-tête with Red before,” he stated, and Buffy felt as though a glacier formed at the nape of her neck and poured through her at the pure shock she suffered from this disclosure.

“Willow?” she asked. “She came here?”

“No, I ran into her at Willy’s. ‘Course she came ‘ere,” he replied, bringing out a fag and putting it between his lips, neglecting to light it, and Buffy felt the control she’d had over her pulse begin to slip. “She’s not so bad, you know? At least not when she grows a pair and that whole twitchiness runs off her,” he added and Buffy cocked an eyebrow.

“She’s not twitchy,” she remarked.

“Alright, nervousness, then,” he relented, taking the cigarette between two fingers, glancing at it and then tossing it unceremoniously aside. “Edginess. That whole... innocence vibe she’s got going for her. But she looked me in the eye tonight, Buffy,” he said. “She’s worried ‘bout you.”

“I know,” she mumbled, putting her free hand in her other pocket and closing it around the items there.

Slowly bringing them out she reached over and placed her fingers over a nearby sarcophagus, gently opening them and releasing his belongings onto the stone.

He furrowed his brow quizzically.

“Didn’t feel right to keep them,” she said, voice low.

She hated how she was barely able to meet his gaze.

“You won them fair and square,” he objected silently.

She smiled just a little, then shook her head.

“I don’t want them,” she said. “They’re too big for me. And they look better on you, anyway.”

He tilted his head slightly, and she drew a steadying breath before giving a nod.

“Right, then. I should go.”

She headed passed him, but he made her stop by saying:

“And my lighter?”

She didn’t have anything to answer to that. Her mind went blank. And then he was right behind her. His right hand softly slid down her right arm, following her wrist down into the pocket, where her hand was buried. She closed her eyes at the touch, at the sensation of him near her, at the swindling notion that it was the last time he would be.

His fingers brought her hand out, circling it before carefully making her let go of the object it was holding. She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. His nose almost brushed hers, and then she stepped away, walking up to the door and through it.

He moved up to the sarcophagus, staring at the rings before turning from them, not willing to touch them. She was ridding herself of him. Soon he would be gone, he could feel it. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Spike!” a voice growled from downstairs and the vampire straightened his back in indignation before he headed up to the ladder.

“Bloody hell, what’re you doing down there?” he barked.

A younger vamp came to stand at the base of the ladder, looking up apologetically.

“Sorry, took the tunnels. Quicker,” he explained, then added: “Adam wants to see you. Said it’s urgent.”

“Bugger,” Spike muttered, grabbing his duster and jumping down to join the other.

¤

In You I Trust

¤

Buffy looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. She hated it. Especially since it did the very unoriginal thing of clicking itself into showing seven o’clock; and thus its disturbingly loud ring began proclaiming it was time to get her butt out of bed.

She pulled the covers over her head before reaching out a hand, smashing it down hard. There was a crack as the blow subsequently broke the contraption. It gave her an odd sense of completion. Like it was what she had been supposed to do.

“You know, you spend more money on alarm clocks than you do on shoes,” Willow’s voice sounded, and as the Slayer realized there lay some truth in those words, a burst of annoyance flew through her, making her throw her covers off with a huff.

“Who needs shoes?” she grumbled, getting off the bed.

Willow smiled a little, brushing her hair, already dressed.

Buffy rolled her eyes at her.

“Can’t you, for once, cut class?” she then pleaded. “We can go get ice-cream. Sit in the sun.”

Willow’s smile widened.

“You forget one important fact.”

“Please, don’t say English Lit. exam!”

Willow put her brush down with a look, Buffy sighing.

“I hate college,” she murmured, walking up to her closet.

Willow began to collect her books and Buffy quickly chose an outfit, glancing at her friend.

“I saw Spike last night,” Buffy finally said, turning to face the other, who looked at her calmly.

“Then he must’ve said I went to see him, too,” she merely stated, Buffy’s eyebrows rising.

“He mentioned it.”

Willow watched her for a few seconds, then shrugged.

“I just had to see what all the fuss was about,” she said, making Buffy smile suddenly.

The Slayer couldn’t help the light feeling around her heart. Willow had done that for her.

“And?” she then asked.

Willow tried to look unimpressed, but it didn’t really stick. Last night had been a novelty in many respects, but the deepest moving one was that she had really had no idea just how serious this whole situation was. She had thought they could move passed it, like they did everything else. Hell, if they could go through a few end-of-the-world scenarios, they should be able to shake this. But this wasn’t the same. Emotions were invested that she had had no clue about. And it wasn’t just the vampire she was thinking of. She remembered all the little things she had seen over the passed few weeks. How Buffy had changed, little by little, in her relationship to Spike. And Willow felt stupid now, that she hadn’t acknowledged it sooner. Hadn’t tried to understand sooner.

“You’re just waiting for me to say you were right,” Willow now muttered with fake-annoyance and Buffy smiled again.

Then its brightness faded a little and she turned away.

Willow frowned.

“He really loves you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Buffy mumbled, buttoning up her shirt.

“But...”

“But nothing,” Buffy interrupted, bringing her hair out from under the collar and putting her shoes on.

“Were you happy?” Willow asked, voice soft with a compassion Buffy didn’t know if she could handle.

She met Willow’s gaze.

“No,” she then replied.

¤

“Is something the matter?” Riley asked.

It was close to six o’clock and he was walking to Giles’ for a meeting, Buffy at his side. She had been quiet since he picked her up, and as she seemed to hesitate he tried not to acknowledge the ominous warning in the back of his head. Finally she looked up at him.

“I wish I could say no,” she mumbled. “I’m... a little rattled. I’ll be fine.”

He made her stop.

“Buffy, you know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever’s weighing you like this... Maybe it’ll help if you talk about it.”

She smiled ironically, then shook her head.

“No, honey,” she said, “it won’t help.”

He moved one hand to her cheek, but she caught it on the way with one of hers, and halted it. He let it fall down and looked away from her. He had a gnawing feeling in the middle of his chest, and it hurt like hell. He didn’t want to think it could be there for a reason. It had to be his own imagination. It couldn’t have been brought on by...

“Is it Spike?” he asked.

She clenched her jaws together.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” he snapped, annoyance in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you. But it hasn’t been easy on me either.”

“Just... answer one thing,” he murmured. “If he were human...”

“Riley,” she interrupted, turning her head away and commencing their walk. “Don’t,” she added silently, as he followed.

“What do you want, Buffy?”

She smiled at him, and it felt real.

“I want what we have,” she stated. “But if you’re okay with it, I need some more time.”

“If that’s what you need,” he nodded, slipping one hand in hers.

¤

“There seems to be even less activity...” Giles began, being interrupted by Riley, who shook his head.

“It doesn’t add up. We’re piling demons on top of each other at the Initiative.”

It was nearing nine, and the Scoobies were all gathered. With a few additions, of course.

“So what does that mean, then?” Willow wondered. “Buffy’s barely staked one vampire in almost a week.”

“Well, if you don’t count the fang gang I had to do away with the other night,” Buffy put in. “But yeah. It’s like they’re gravitating toward the Initiative. Why? What we need is inside information on Adam. We have to know what it is he wants. I think the answer is in the Initiative, but Riley’s being monitored too closely. I need to get in.”

“You think they won’t notice a Slayer sneaking through their plasma sensors and tazer defenses?” Xander remarked.

“We’ll work around it. There’s a way. There always is. The mountain won’t come to me, I’ll just have to come to it,” she stated just as the door closed in the hall, and everyone turned their head to the vampire who was entering.

“Funny you should put it that way,” he said, meeting the Slayer’s gaze and holding it as he came to a stop.

“Care to explain yourself to those not clicking into understanding?” Riley asked, Spike glancing at him, a small smile fleetingly occurring on his mouth before he looked back at Buffy.

“The mountain. I know where it is. And it ain’t in the Initiative.”

Buffy furrowed her brow.

“Huh?”

“Mount Adam. Get your climbing gear; I know where all the good views are.”

She stared at him, noticing the sweater he was wearing and keeping down a smile. It was dark purple and one of the better ones she had chosen, if she said so herself. Which she didn’t, she reminded herself.

“You know where Adam’s set up camp?” she asked.

“Why so disbelieving, love?” he smiled. “The sod thinks I’m playing on his side of the field, remember?”

“And he’s passing you the ball?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“In a manner of speaking, yeah,” Spike nodded.

“Is it a baseball or a football?” Xander asked.

Everybody looked at him, questioningly.

“I just wanted to get in on the metaphor fun,” he defended.

“It’s in one of the eastern caves,” Spike stated.

“That’s close to campus,” Willow said.

“Doesn’t want to stray too far from home, I reckon,” Spike remarked and Buffy nodded.

“Okay,” she then said thoughtfully. “Okay... Then we know where to start.”

“There’s more,” Spike said. “Can I talk to you?” he added with a slight motion to the front door.

Buffy could feel Riley stiffen beside her. She turned her eyes in his calmingly, but his facial expression was stale. When she made a motion to rise, one of his hands grasped her wrist and stopped her.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure we all want to know,” he said, gaze in Spike’s.

The vampire merely arched an eyebrow.

Buffy freed herself carefully.

“It’ll only take a minute,” she said.

“I don’t trust him,” he gritted out.

She touched his hand.

“But I do,” she said softly, rising to her feet and walking passed Spike, giving him a glance to follow as she headed for the door.

They walked outside and she closed it behind them, turning to him. He was eyeing her.

He couldn’t believe what she had just said in there. His head was spinning.

“Did you mean that?” he got word over tongue and she looked wondering. Then she seemed to realize what he was referring to and simply gave a slight shrug. “No, you don’t get off that easy,” he shook his head, catching her gaze and holding it as he repeated: “Did you mean it?”

She looked at him for a long moment.

“Yes,” she then said. “I think I owe you that much, Spike.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t turn it around to sound like some bloody obligation. You wouldn’t trust me ‘cause you felt you had to, and you know it.”

“I trust you with the chip in your head. I don’t know if I’d trust you without it.”

He stared at her, taken aback.

“So... you would rather I took it out, is that what you’re saying?”

“I don’t know,” she grumbled.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Make up your mind!”

She took a step back, eyes in his before she glanced away.

“What do you want, Buffy?” he then inquired gently.

She looked back at him, feeling something warm spread inside beneath his probing gaze.

“I want things to be as they were before,” she then answered, the warmth dispersing. “But they never can. So I’m going to accept your help, because frankly, I really need it. I’m gonna invite you inside, so you can be part in making the plans we have to make. I’m gonna let you in on all the secrets and tactics and pray my trust isn’t misplaced.”

“Don’t say that,” he gritted.

“Don’t say what? The truth? The truth is: I don’t know you. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where you begin and where you end. I don’t know anything at all. I’ve already made up my mind, Spike. And there’s no room for you in it.”

She was about to walk passed him and back inside when one of his hands slid into hers, halting her as he moved closer, slipping one hand to rest by her cheek as he made her meet his gaze.

“Don’t say that,” he mumbled; voice low.

“Spike, please,” she said quietly, her heart beginning to pound at his touch.

At the look on her face he removed his hands and stepped back. She wanted to wipe out the abandoned feeling she suffered, wanted to get it out of her by fist and foot, wanted to stomp on it until it caved in and crumpled into a small heap of dust. But it was too strong, and merely mocked her futile attempts at the endeavor of killing it off once and for all.

“He wants me to break the Scoobies up,” Spike now stated. “That’s the mission. Break you up, weaken the chain, make you alone.”

“Then what?”

“Guess I’ll find out once it’s done.”

“What’s in it for you?”

Spike smiled a little at the irony.

“He’ll take the chip out.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Really?”

Spike shrugged and there was the trace of a smile on her mouth.

“So, are you coming inside?” she asked.

“Not this time,” he replied. “Appreciate the offer, but...”

“Come inside,” she encouraged.

He looked about to respond in the negative sense again, when Ath’s voice stopped him.

“Buffy!” she called as she and Calor approached the two.

Spike turned his head to them in surprise. Buffy smiled, receiving Ath’s and then Calor’s peck on one cheek.

“Sorry we’re late,” Calor said.

“That’s okay,” Buffy assured. “Go right in, I’ll be with you soon.”

Spike watched Ath follow her brother inside and then said:

“Know what? I think I’ll stick around for a while. Haven’t heard Giles talk for a few days, after all.”

Buffy furrowed her brow as he brushed passed her and went through the door in the wake of the goddess. The Slayer’s frown deepened as she followed. She felt a stir of jealousy, but waved it away empathically. Walking up to the couch she had a seat next to Riley, before she casually watched Spike lean against the wall behind where Xander and Anya were seated. Now, the Slayer could’ve been wrong, but it really looked like the vampire was staring at Ath. Then he looked at Calor. Then back at Ath. Buffy frowned again. What was with him?

Ath smiled at Willow and then stretched a hand out to Giles, who looked, for once, flustered.

“Pleasure,” she greeted and he took her hand hesitantly, smiling back.

“Indeed.”

Spike huffed and Buffy turned her head to him, having him meet her gaze. She was quizzical and he raised his eyebrows.

¤

An hour later the conversation had once more drifted from the Gruesome Frankenlike to lighter topics of gum-drop flavors and the best vacation destination.

“I’d say Barbados. Sand, sun, sea,” Xander stated.

“I like how you used ‘s’ words,” Anya smiled and he mirrored it. “I know a few too. Like sex. Would that be included, do you think?”

Calor choked on the chip he had been nibbling and Ath suppressed a smirk.

“We’ll see,” Xander murmured, shifting in his seat.

“So are you taking me?”

“Where?”

“To the sand and the sun and the sea.”

“Don’t forget the sex,” Spike reminded and Buffy smirked over the brim of her mug.

“Oh, we can have that right here,” Anya stated.

“No, not right here,” Giles disagreed, removing his glasses.

“There’s sand and sun and sea close by,” Riley remarked.

“Yes, but not Barbados sand. And sun. And sea,” Xander retorted.

“Hmh,” Anya said. “Would the sex be different as well?”

“Honey,” Xander murmured and she smiled, kissing him.

He relented to that and she hugged him.

“I’ll love you forever if you take me home right now,” she then whispered in his ear; something which didn’t go by unnoticed by neither Slayer nor Vamp.

Before either really knew it they exchanged a glance, which was followed by a simultaneous smile.

Buffy grew self-conscious, clearing her throat and looking away again. Spike kept his eyes on her for a few more moments, tilting his head a little to one side.

“We’re gonna head out,” Xander said as he and Anya rose.

“Oh, so soon?” Buffy wondered innocently.

“Yeah, it’s getting late.”

“And if we’re too tired when we get home, he’ll fall asleep and...”

“So we’re heading out,” Xander stopped Anya, ushering her to the door.

Spike was still smiling when his eyes met Ath’s. She was studying him and his smile faded into something very close to a threat. She got to her feet.

“Let me make some more tea,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

Giles looked truly invigorated just by the simple offer.

“Why, that is most gracious of you,” he commented and she flashed him a smile as she disappeared from clear view.

Buffy leaned over and asked Willow about homework, Riley began to talk with Giles, and Calor asked Tara what the bracelet she was wearing stood for. She smiled shyly, then said it was for good luck. Spike watched them all interact before he slipped the way Ath had gone.

“I thought you’d left,” he said.

“Yes,” she nodded.

He narrowed his eyes.

“What does that mean, ‘yes’?”

“Spike, why can’t we be friends? You seem convinced I’m part of some plot against Buffy, and this is only the second time we’ve met! I really don’t want you glaring at me like that; it’s enough to spoil an evening.”

“What are you doing here? Answer that, and I’ll stop glaring.”

“I’m... not sure what I’m doing here, to be absolutely honest. And I feel each moment only makes it all the more confusing. I thought I came here to do good on a promise I seemed to have broken, but now...” She trailed off, meeting his gaze and smiling again. “Things aren’t always what they appear.”

“That’s exactly what the problem is,” he pointed out and she laughed.

“You’re protectiveness of her speaks well of your character, but you can’t walk through life in mistrust of everyone who comes near her. I swore to you – I care about her a great deal more than you could even comprehend.”

She reached out her hands and carefully took his. He blinked at the sensation that poured through him at her touch. A calm. A centering within him that was unlike anything he had ever experienced... outside being with Buffy.

“I’ll do her no harm,” she said. “It’s not why I’m here, that much I do know.”

He was captured by her eyes, feeling like he was seeing the universe contained in the darkness of her pupils. A swirling vortex filled with stars and comets and infinity far greater than his could ever be.

“How’s the tea coming?” Buffy asked from the doorway behind him and he was brought out of his state of mind, turning to face the Slayer; his hands leaving the goddess’.

Buffy looked at him and then at Ath, crossing her arms over her chest. Ath held up the tea pot.

“It’s coming,” she said.

Spike was about to say something, but Buffy turned around and left the doorway. He smiled a crooked smile, shaking his head at her. Then he sighed. He felt Ath’s gaze on his back as he went into the living room. Buffy and Riley were at the door and the vamp halted.

“We’re going,” Buffy said. “Come find me if anything else happens.”

“And about the breaking-you-up?” he asked.

“Let’s say you failed. Utterly and completely,” she replied simply, walking with Riley out the door.

Spike turned to the ones left, Willow and Tara talking easily with Calor. Giles listening to their conversation. The vampire stood there, motionless, for another minute, and then headed for the door as well.

¤

Buffy was grateful for Riley’s patience.

He really is too good to me, she thought, and a pang of guilt followed, which made her close her eyes and roll over on her back.

She loathed the nights when she had trouble falling asleep, and for some reason they had been quite a few recently. She wanted rest, but feared it was still looming somewhere in the distance. Perhaps she would never really reach it until the day she lay six feet under ground. She shook those musings off. She wasn’t going to die. It wasn’t her time yet. She still had things to do, to accomplish. And yet, death didn’t scare her; maybe because she dealt with it everyday. She had gotten used to it, to the idea of her own demise. She knew she wasn’t supposed to last forever. She knew every Slayer came with an expiration date on the package. She only hoped it wasn’t soon. Not too soon.

She dreamed worried dreams that night, and woke up right before sunrise.

She stood in the window of her room and watched the sky be painted pink and gold, and let the first rays of the ascending orb illuminate her face as it trickled through the branches outside.

¤

The cave was dark as she entered it. It smelled of earth and silent age. She walked forward slowly, looking around and wondering how far she would have to go. It wasn’t very far. It ended in a sharp angle, three-hundred feet from the entrance. To the trained eye it looked as though it formed a small room, but it was of no consequence since it was completely empty. Nothing but cave walls on all four sides. For just one second she wondered if Spike had set her up, if it was just another elaborate mind-game. Act the fool for love, when all the while he was stabbing her repeatedly in the back.

But no.

She knew he wouldn’t. And she nearly felt ashamed that she had doubted that conviction, even if it was for only that one second.

She sighed and turned around, heading back for the entrance.

Maybe he’d gotten his bearings wrong. He’d said eastern, but perhaps the cavern actually was more to the west. Or south-east. There were a lot of them around here. Clusters of them, even. He could easily have gotten turned around.

But then she stopped short.

Stepping through the mouth of the cave was a creature she found herself suddenly unprepared to face.

“And so we meet,” Adam said with a smile. “The Slayer. It is an honor. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied. “Unfortunately for me, I’ve had to rely on what I’ve seen of you. Your handiwork. Quite the surgeon, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Mother installed all the knowledge I might need of human medicine in my brain. She did not leave much to chance. She knew it would be of use to me.”

“I’m sure she did. I’m sure she saw her creation would become a homicidal maniac who’d go around cutting things open just to see how they work,” Buffy nodded. “She was a smart lady that way.”

“I detect you say these things, but do not really mean them,” he noted.

“Guess you’re a smart monster that way.”

“I’m not a monster,” he smiled. “I am part of this world, just as you are. I was put here to bestow order where there has been only chaos. You must understand that the course of nature cannot be altered.”

“You’re talking about the course of nature?”

“Extinction of the weak. Evolution of the strong. A world where the fitted survive, and the unshapely pieces are scattered for the wind.”

“Yeah? Well, I happen to like unshapely,” she stated, pulling out the sword she had brought with her.

Adam looked at it, then at her. She took a step forward, raising the blade, but as she brought it down he grabbed it with one hand, while pushing her hard in the chest with the other. She felt herself flying through the air, hitting the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of her. She fell to the ground with a hard thump.

She felt sunshine on her cheek and realized she was right by the entrance. Scrambling to her feet she looked over at Adam, who was picking up the sword. She didn’t need to stay and see more – she ran. She ran as fast as her legs could possibly carry her. She had gotten quite close to the outskirts of the woods when she tripped and tumbled down a bumpy hill, hitting her head and back against two larger rocks and getting knocked unconscious.

¤

Spike woke with a jerk. He turned over on his back and his eyes landed on Buffy, who was just sitting down on the edge of the bed. He furrowed his brow and then sat up.

“Buffy?”

“It wasn’t there,” she said. “His lair, it wasn’t there. ...‘Lair’. Wonder who decided to call it that. Sounds too fancy, somehow. Don’t you think?”

He reached out a hand and made her turn her head to him. His eyes widening as he saw the deep cut in her forehead. She waved his hand away and stood.

“The sun’s almost set,” she stated. “I want you to come with me.”

“What happened?” he asked, getting the covers off and grabbing a pair of jeans, pulling them on as she simply continued talking.

“I want you to show me exactly where Adam’s shacked up.”

“I told you...”

“And I just told you – it wasn’t there. I went to the eastern caves, to the largest one, like you said, and there was nothing there. Apart from Adam.”

He pulled on his T-shirt with harsh movements.

“You went there alone!” he exclaimed.

“I’m alright.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the head to show for it.”

“At least it’s still attached.”

He didn’t smile, merely glared at her.

“Adam means business, whatever that sodding business might be. You can’t go gallivanting into his bloody territory like that, alone!”

“I wasn’t gallivanting. I was far from gallivanting. You can’t gallivant with a sword.”

“Oh, you brought a sword, did you? How kind of you to bring a toothpick for him for when he’s finished with you!”

“God! I know he’s big and scary and... well, I guess I didn’t know just how strong he was, but I do now and stop yelling at me! You’re giving me a headache.”

He seemed to calm down a little, taking a step closer.

“Let me take a look at that.”

“It’s nothing,” she said impatiently. “Let’s go.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s a flesh wound.”

“Every wound is a flesh wound.”

“I can tell you for a fact that isn’t true. Internal injuries are a concept with a completely different vocabulary.” At that he finally smiled a small smile and she mirrored it. “Really, I’m okay,” she added.

“Will you stop being your stubborn highness, and let me tend to that for you? After that, I’ll go wherever you want. I promise.”

She rested her gaze in his for another few seconds, then smiled a little again. Seemingly relenting, she turned and headed for the ladder. He followed. Upstairs she sat down in the armchair while he got what he needed. She leaned her head back and he came to stand at her side, looking down at her.

“I’m getting good at this,” he said with a smirk. “All the training you’re giving me.”

“Mh. Ever thought of being a nurse?”

“Nurse Spike? Sounds bleeding kinky, don’t you think?”

She giggled.

“Lie still,” he demanded, beginning to clean off the blood.

“Ow,” she muttered.

It didn’t take long for him to finish and she moved her head to watch him bring the things back to their rightful place.

“If anyone had told me two months ago that this was where I’d be...” she mumbled, and he smiled, looking over at her and nodding.

“Mysterious ways, and that whole jig,” he shrugged.

“I’ll say,” she agreed, sitting up and then rising.

She touched the soft bandage on her forehead, fastened with surgical tape. She knew she really didn’t need it. Slayer healing would fix up an injury like that in less than a few hours. But it felt good, being taken care of. She looked at him where he walked into the kitchen area, and smiled a little to herself, for no apparent reason.

He grabbed his duster and pulled it on. Opening the door for her he let her walk through it and then followed, closing it behind them and bringing out his pack of smokes, putting one in the corner of his mouth and taking out his lighter. She glanced at it, having the sensation of his hand sliding over hers in order to retrieve it be so clear, that she almost checked to see if his hand wasn’t performing the movement again. It wasn’t.

“Thank you,” she said. “For...”

She motioned to her forehead and he smiled.

“No need,” he replied.

They were silent for a while, both lost in thought.

Buffy couldn’t get over how it was true, and how suddenly it had hit her that it was the truth: she had faith in him. She had realized it when she verified it to him the night before, and now she felt as though she would put her life in his hands without a second thought. Why was that? What had he done to prove himself to her? What she had said to him had been every bit as much the truth: she didn’t know him. And then she glanced at him, and wanted to ask herself how she could think she didn’t. Because she did.

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not anymore. She knew that he loved her, however quick the feeling had erupted in his chest. And she knew that he would be there, no matter what.

How strange.

How frightfully strange it was, looking at him now and seeing something so completely different than what she had always seen before. How completely different everything was.

Spike was trying to find something to talk about. The birds, the bees, the flowers, the trees. Anything would suffice, but everything seemed too feeble and stupid. Why had his tongue started to tie itself into knots? Maybe it was terrified of saying the wrong thing. It did have a tendency to do that, after all. But this silence was doing nothing for him either.

Buffy was the one who solved the conundrum by saying:

“So, you’ve finally decided to brighten up the wardrobe?”

He glanced at the sweater he had pulled over his T, and then smiled.

It was dark blue.

“Don’t know if ‘brightening up’ is the right word,” he remarked.

She returned his smile easily.

“Well, color up, then,” she offered and this time he smirked.

“Advice given was considered and accepted,” he replied, taking the final drag of his cigarette and tossing it aside.

“Thought you didn’t want me to change you,” she said, walking up to the cigarette and stepping on it before coming back to continue at his side.

He shook his head at her; then retorted:

“Bit late for afterthought, innit?”

She had to smile.

“Hope you don’t hate me too much,” she said, not able to get the satisfaction out of her voice. “But, in all honesty, the Big Bad label didn’t exactly stick; did it?”

“Watch it, or I just might try another spot for it,” he muttered.

“And where might that be, William?”

“Don’t push me, Slayer.”

But she merely smiled once more, and he returned it.

She stopped, and pointed.

“There it is,” she said, and he turned his head to see the opening to the cave on the other side of the clearing, at which edge they were standing.

He nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s it.”

She furrowed her brow.

“That’s the one you meant?”

“That’s the one I meant.”

She looked over at the cave again, then crossed her arms over her chest. Her thoughts were running through her head, trying to add it all up. There had been no sign of a nest or the data Spike had spoken of. But... Her mind slowly grinded to a stop.

Aha.

“He knows,” she stated.

Spike looked questioning, but soon his features smoothed in understanding.

“He may just be paranoid,” he said. “Wanted to move to a different location.”

“No,” she said. “No, he knew I’d be there. He’d been waiting for me. He knows,” she repeated.

“Guess we haven’t exactly been careful, have we?” Spike murmured.

“Especially with the you-saving-my-life-repeatedly,” she agreed. “So, your cover’s blown. That sucks.”

“Well... yeah,” he agreed as they turned and started walking again. “But he doesn’t know that we know that he knows,” he added and she looked at him.

“Spike,” she began, but he met her gaze steadily.

“Don’t even bloody start,” he said. “Haven’t been noble for the passed century, but I think I still remember how it goes.”

“Spike.”

“Buffy, I’m not asking you to ask me. I’m telling you I’m doing this. So stop with the puppy eyes.”

She checked herself, then looked away from him.

“I wasn’t... with the puppy eyes,” she said.

“Fine, you weren’t.”

There was a pause, and then she picked up with:

“But I’ve seen Adam filet the hell out of some of the most brutal demon’s this town has to offer. I mean, he cut them open and strung them up like he was making his own personal art statement.” Spike gave her a wondering look and she waved it away. “I’m just saying; it’s an exhibition you don’t want to see. Ever. And I really don’t think you’d want to volunteer as one of the exhibitees.”

“Exhibi- what now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Buffy, I’m tougher than I look.”

“So am I, but he made me fly through the air like a paper airplane. I’ve fought you. I know your strength.” She put a hand on his arm and made him stop, fastening her gaze in his. “But he’s stronger than you are. Than I am. Than anything I’ve ever faced before. If you have to fight him, you’ll lose, Spike.”

“Guess I’ll have to make sure it doesn’t come to a fight,” he simply replied.

“Damn it, if you’re doing this for me, then...”

“Will this help you?” he stopped her. She hesitated, but the look on her face gave him his answer. “Then don’t question it,” he added. “It’s not a sacrifice,” he then smirked. “I’m not on a bloody altar here. Besides, what do you expect me to do? Sit nicely in my crypt while all the action’s going down?” he added with a meaningful raise of one eyebrow.

He brought another cigarette out, stepping passed her and beginning to walk again.

She observed his back for the longest moment. There was a dread that rose and settled right next to the pulse thumping by the side of her throat. It was dark and deep and foreboding. But all she could do was follow him.