1. The space between your heart and mine

Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest . .
William Butler Yeats, He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace

Peace and rest at length have come
all the day’s long toil is past,
and each heart is whispering, “home,
home at last.”
Thomas Hood, Home at last.



He’d become so attuned to her in the short weeks since she’d returned, aware of her every mood, quickly learning what might cause her a problem. The return of the great foreheaded one was without a doubt something to set her off. Just the end of this whole damn day was enough to set her off and cause a backslide of enormous proportions. It was bad enough when they’d tried to get her to go shopping. This was bound to be twice as difficult. He paced around the shop, shooting glances at the closed training room door, every couple of moments. This was . . . god, what he wouldn’t give to be able to fight this battle for her. To tell the Irish git that he could go back from whence he came.

But he couldn’t. Because there was a small part of him that feared she wouldn’t be able to do that. Wouldn’t be able to tell Angel he wasn’t wanted here in Sunnydale. That she didn’t love him anymore. That they were no longer a part of each other’s lives, except as memories.

And that part of him was also afraid that he would burst into that room only to find the two of them snogging like teenagers.

Wouldn’t be the first time he’d found Angelus with his lady-love. But he thought this one might be the hardest of all to recover from.

Pacing around, he nearly walked into Giles, who was watching the doorway with almost as much concern. They’d been in there for a while and Spike could feel his own agitation growing. Before he realized it, he was at the door, leaning against it, straining to hear any sounds from within. Nothing clear came through, only the sound of her voice. It was enough.

Spike opened the door slowly, to hear her saying, “it was Spike who rescued me that night, took care of me. . . “ and he winced when the tears that he’d heard in her voice broke, a soft sob hitching in her throat, “he’s been taking care of me since. That’s love Angel.”

He’d made no sound, made no move other than to barely open the door, but when the last words crossed her lips, he drifted inside the doorway, leaning back against the wall, just watching her. Buffy sensed his entrance, shifting her head to look at him, smiling at him through her tears and he stopped breathing just to watch her walk toward him. Spike almost didn’t hear the last thing she said to Angel, only catching the end of it, which sounded suspiciously like “go back to Darla.”

And then she was in his arms, her face buried against his neck, holding on tightly.


******************************** ****************************************

The last of the boxes was loaded, every trip, beyond the first one, conducted in silence. When he’d first arrived, Xander had hugged Willow for long moments, letting her sob onto his shoulder. Dawn had barely returned Xander’s greeting, smiled at him once, her attention immediately refocused on the television.

Willow was standing in the hallway, staring at nothing, praying for Tara to come down the stairs. Xander stood in the doorway, watching her. “C’mon Will.”

He tugged on her arm, pulling her outside, drawing her away from the stairs. “Wait right here, I’ll be right back.”

Xander walked in the door, closing it firmly behind him. “Dawn, where’s Buffy?”

Without looking at him, she said, “out patrolling.”

“This isn’t right Dawn. Letting Willow leave . . . letting Spike throw her out.”

“What are you talking about?” Dawn finally looked up at him. “Spike had nothing to do with this.”

“He probably rigged the whole thing to separate you from the rest of us.”

“Xander are you deranged? Spike never even said a word to Willow. I’m the one who told her she had to leave.”

“No. Dawnie, why would you?” Xander was completely confused now.

“Willow’s off the deep end Xander.” She was losing her patience, not that she’d had much to begin with, especially regarding this situation.

“How can you say that?” He moved closer into the living room, trying to keep her attention.

“Because its true. She’s like so not herself. Doing freaky magic things.” Dawn got up, moving away from Xander toward the kitchen. She really didn’t want to be having this conversation with him.

“That’s not freaky – she’s not hurting anyone.” Xander parroted with what Willow had kept on insisting.

“Gee, then Tara and I don’t count. Thanks Xander.” The sarcasm was dripping from her tone, impossible for even him to miss.

“Oh c’mon, Dawnie, she did that to rescue Buffy from hell.” He kept following her as she moved about the living room.

“Yeah sure she did. Only Buffy wasn’t in a hell dimension. Willow kind of lied about that.”

“What?” He was shocked.

“Buffy was in heaven Xander. Willow pulled her out of heaven.”

“She’s also been lying to us.” Tara’s voice preceded her down the stairs. “She called Angel and lied . . . “

“How do you know that?” Xander cut her off, feeling defensive.

“Because Angel called here earlier and left a message. He said Willow had called him.”

Making her way down the steps, Tara stopped on the last riser. “I don’t trust her anymore Xander, and maybe if she hadn’t lied to our faces about telling Angel, we . . . well, Buffy might’ve let us both stay, but she did.”

Tara rested her arm on the newel post, watching Xander for signs of comprehension. At the time Willow had proposed calling Angel, Xander had thought it was a good idea. But now he wasn’t so sure.

“So what happens now?” Xander’s head was reeling from all the information.

“We go back to everyday stuff Xander. We try to pick up the pieces.” Tara shrugged, not really sure where they were going, or what was in store, only knowing this was a sort of ending.

There was a noise at the front door and Dawn said, “take Willow home.”


******************************** ****************************************

He held her for long endless minutes, ignoring the third presence in the room. Angel wasn’t important now Buffy was. Spike had no idea what had been said beyond the little bit at the end. Right now that was enough.

The tears had dried up but she was still shaking. Buffy had dug her fingers into his sides, her nose butting his sternum. One of his hands held her tight around the waist, while the other stroked her, running over her hair and back. Neither one of them spoke, it wasn’t like they needed words anyway. Her face was hot, the warmth leeching through to his skin, tears and snot wetting the cotton fabric of his tee shirt. Spike leaned back against the wall, his shoulders resting against the brick. Buffy sighed against him, her breath warming him.

“Love you kitten” he murmured into her hair, feeling her smile. The shaking increased, her fingers digging in hard, the tremors rippling throughout her body. Suddenly she sagged against him, letting it all go. Spike held on, whispering against her, wishing he could just whisk her out of here. She needed to be home, tucked into her own bed, away from the stress of the day.

It had been a hellacious day though it had started out so promising. Spike had no idea what in all hell had gone wrong but something had. Buffy slumped against him, her body molded to his, utterly spent. His attention was all for her and he didn’t even notice when Angel left the training room.


******************************** ****************************************

Giles was watching the door, straining his ears to hear what was going on behind that closed door. Spike had gone in about ten minutes prior and there’d been nothing since. No noises. No shouting. Giles was hoping that was a good sign. If something were going on with Buffy and Angel, no doubt Spike would have stormed out, leaving the pair alone. He’d been anticipating some sort of physical violence between the two vampires, more than half expecting it, afraid Buffy would be caught in the middle. The poor girl was already between the two of them but Giles had a suspicion this was just another battle in their long rivalry.

Not knowing how this was going to end, Giles watched the doorway, not realizing Anya had come to stand beside him.

“I hope she picks Spike.” Anya whispered as only she could. “I’m not sure I like Angel. He’s too broody for good orgasms.”

Giles suppressed the grin that was threatening, waiting with anticipation for what might next pop out of her mouth.

“Spike’s much more deserving of Buffy orgasms.” Pausing, she cocked her head to the side, continuing, “he’s much better looking also.”

Looking down at her, Giles bit back his laughter at her completely inappropriate yet somehow logical remarks, commenting dryly, “I’m not sure I share your appreciation for Spike’s obvious charms.”

“Oh” she chirped.

He smiled at her and she smiled back.

Neither one was really paying attention then, when the training room door opened and Angel walked out.

The big vampire stopped, watching the two of them, noting how close they were standing. He thought the girl was Xander’s but maybe this wasn’t Anya. He didn’t know her on sight so he couldn’t be certain. And it wasn’t like he really cared. Angel walked over to the table bypassing the pair who were now staring at him. The rage he’d felt earlier was now a simmering heat in his veins, lending false warmth to his muscles, directed solely at Drusilla’s childe. At the moment he wanted to disavow all ties with the Englishman almost as much as he wanted to sever the bastard’s neck. There was nothing right with any of this. His mind was reeling from all that had happened just now.

Rage had started upon speaking with Willow growing stronger with the time spent driving to Sunnydale. Actually seeing Buffy’s disturbed grave had set match to smoldering ashes then seeing her with Spike had just thrown gasoline on the blaze.

Angel was not the forgiving sort. His anger was raging with no clear target. Willow. . . what arrogance for a little girl to attempt a retrieval of, no, it was really a resurrection, and how dare she? What was her purpose in calling him? Did she just assume he would swoop in and eliminate Spike? He disliked being manipulated into getting rid of someone Willow considered a threat. His anger with Spike needed little or no outside help. That was something so old, Angel wasn’t sure that anything would change it, not even Buffy’s impassioned speech about Spike and love.

Angel wanted to break things. Spike and love were just . . . . Angel knew he was capable of love, he couldn’t fool himself about that, but he doubted Spike truly loved Buffy, not the way he did. Buffy was his ideal, she was perfection, she was his. How dare William, that pathetic excuse, that simpering fool presume to love, to touch his girl.

Buffy belonged to him.


*********************************** ****************************************

“Kitten?” Spike murmured into her forehead, his lips against her skin. “You wanna go home?”

Her eyes drifted closed lazily, nuzzling into his kiss, “yeah. Can we go?”

“Anythin’ you want Buffy.” Spike shifted away from the wall, his hand cupping her butt, walking her backward.

Her arms slid around his waist anchoring herself to his solid presence. She was feeling insubstantial again, fragile, like her skin was stretched too thin and there was nothing protecting her. Spike traced a finger over her face, almost lighter than air, but it was enough to warm her, enough to break through the bubble surrounding her.

Closed eyes finally opened, lifting tortured hazel orbs to search his features. Tilting her head up gently, Spike kissed her forehead and both her eyes. Whisper soft his thumb stroked her lips crosswise, followed by his own lips. “All right then, love. Time to go.”

Ducking her head against his arm, Buffy nodded, grabbing his hand and holding on tightly. With Spike in the lead, they left the training room, encountering Giles wiping his glasses.

His unspoken signal drew Spike’s attention to where Angel stood by the table. The big vampire growled, seeing the pair of them hand in hand, Buffy almost hidden behind Spike. She clenched his hand, her other circling his upper arm, using him as protection. Angel growled again and Spike raised an eyebrow. “Thought Buffy told you to go back to LA?”

“She’s not thinking clearly. I think you need to go.” Angel ground out the words, taking a step forward trying to gain some advantage.

Spike stood his ground. Glancing sideways once, he caught sight of the look on Buffy’s face. Sensing his eyes on her, Buffy looked up at him and smiled softly. His eyebrow raised in question and was rewarded with Buffy’s answer. Whispering against his arm, Buffy knew only he would understand her next words and she said them deliberately so he would know exactly what she meant.

“Not just crumbs.”

It only took half a second. The light in his eyes burned incandescently, darkening at first, then lightening to ice. A thousand different emotions shimmered in shades of blue, causing her golden green to sparkle in answer.

“Love you Buffy.” He mouthed at her.

“I know . . . I . . . “ but before she could say anything else, he dipped his head down and stole a kiss.

Turning to face Angel, Spike said, “don’t believe Buffy’s not thinkin’ clearly. Just seems you aren’t happy with the train of her thoughts.”

Angel stepped closer. “When she comes to her senses, she’ll shut you out. I only hope I’m there when she does it.”

“Aren’t we sore peaches.” Spike smirked, knowing it would set him off. “Too bad Buffy’s not a toy. Stop treatin’ the girl like she’s your possession.”

The Irish vampire started forward again only to be held up by the sound of Buffy’s voice as she stepped up to Spike’s side. “Angel. I told you to go back to LA. Don’t come back unless you get an invitation.”

“Buffy, he’s using you. He’ll turn on you.”

Spike snorted his annoyance. “Could’ve done that any time if I wanted you bog-trottin’ paddy. Why in all hell would I turn on Buffy?”

“You have no soul Spike, the only thing holding you back is the chip.” Angel grinned. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“The only thing holdin’ me back is me, peaches. Chip doesn’t define me any more than the soul does you. And,” he continued, “stop actin’ so high and mighty you nit, not like you went out and earned the bloody thing. Yours is a curse.”

Advancing on the big lummox, Spike’s temper started getting the better of him. “I know the difference between right an’ wrong, you wanker. Jus’ don’t care either way. That’s the difference between us – you never could figure out what was wrong.” Thinking for a minute, Spike kept on speaking, “or worse, any way that wasn’t yours was wrong. Your way or no way. Get over yourself peaches.”

He stood his ground, not intimidated by Angel’s belligerent stance at all. Spike was sure of one thing, he wasn’t leaving this place his tail tucked between his legs, cowed by Angelus. He’d not bowed before him over a hundred and twenty years ago as a fledgling, though he’d gotten beaten for it, and he’d be damned further if he was going to kowtow to him now. Not this time. Not with this woman.

Angel flexed his fists, visibly straining his hands to keep them by his side, trying hard not to take a swing at Spike. The strain was beginning to tell. His jaw was clenched and his eyes flickered between murky brown and amber. Spike, on the other hand, was loose-limbed and relaxed. Buffy’s whispered words had sent hope zinging through his veins, coupled with his own inner strength, and Spike was not going to backdown.

Giles aligned himself opposite Angel, within short distance of his office where he kept additional weapons. The physical confrontation he’d imagined appeared imminent.


Angel caught Giles’ movement out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell me you’re still buying his line of crap. I would’ve thought you would see reason.”

“Actually, I have.” Throwing a glance at Spike, Giles smiled. “Seen sense that is. Can’t imagine why I trusted you in the first place. Spike’s earned my trust, more than once.”

Staring at Giles, Buffy’s smile was tinged with almost happy tears. To tell her he trusted Spike when no one else was around was a big step. To voice it out loud, in front of Spike – Buffy squeezed his hand, getting a return and a second, firmer pull toward his body.

Angel snorted in disbelief. “You can’t trust him. The minute you let down your guards he’ll strike.”

“Not bloody likely. Not my style ‘t all, more yours.” Spike rocked forward, mischief lightening his features. “Need to go check on the mistress and the sprog.”

“What? How did you know about that?” Angel’s disbelief at being called out over Darla and his child was a masterful distraction on Spike’s part.

“Not so high an’ mighty now, are you?” Pointing to the door, Spike said, “go on ya great looby. Don’t let it hit ya on your way out.”

Angel didn’t move, continuing to glare at the blond. Spike, growing bored instead of angry, stared back. Stupid bloody ox. Can’t an’ won’t hear the truth when its written on the wall.

The two kept staring at each other until Buffy threw up her hands in exasperation. “Augh,” looking from one to the other, she said, “enough. Angel. Leave. Go away. Go back to LA.”

Tapping Spike on the shoulder she nagged playfully. “You promised to take me home.”
As he turned to look at her, that bottom lip snuck out to tease him and he was lost.

“All right kitten, let’s go.”

And before Angel could make a further dire prediction or pronouncement, the pair was out the door, completely ignoring his presence.

The titular head of the line of Aurelius was speechless, floored by the dismissal. She’d chosen Spike – over him.

Staring at nothing for a few moments, Angel focused his attention on Giles. “You’ll regret this, when he turns on her, when the chip stops working.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” Giles watched the broad shoulders hunch a bit at his words, noting the grimace on the other’s face and, as he pushed open the door, said, “goodbye Angel.”

52. In her you’ll find sanctuary

and the world and the world
the fire in your eyes
the world drags me down
keeps me alive
and the fire in your eyes
keeps me alive
I’m sure in her you’ll find
sanctuary
I’m sure in her you’ll find
sanctuary
The Cult, (She sells) Sanctuary

At the close of day
the sunset cloaks
these words in shadowplay
here and now, long and loud
my heart cries out
and the naked bone of an echo says
don’t walk away
Reach out your hands
I’m just a step away
how in the world
Can I wish for this?
Never to be torn apart
close to you
til the last beat
of my heart.
How in the world
Can I wish for this?
Never to be torn apart
til the last beat
til the last fleeting beat
of my heart
Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Last Beat of my Heart, from the album Peepshow


Tara had gone back upstairs after Xander and Willow left, telling Dawn that she wasn’t hungry and that if she wanted anything she’d fix it herself later.

Dawn watched her go, worry written on her face. Tara, along with Spike, occupied a very important place in her life, all unexpectedly. They had become, in the time that Buffy was gone, the two people she could rely upon. Tara had helped her, and it was nearly as good as having her mom, probably doing a way better job than Buffy could’ve. She’d done stuff for her that a friend shouldn’t have to do – like help her with her first period. And other stuff, like making sure the everyday things were taken care of – food – laundry, hell Tara had paid the bills, using a lot of Spike’s money, but she still paid them.

Stricken by a sudden thought, Dawn pounded up the stairs after the other girl.

“Tara?” Tapping on her bedroom door, Dawn wasn’t surprised when she heard Tara crying. “Tara?”

The door opened and she watched while Tara walked to the bed, her back to Dawn. “What Dawnie?”

“I just wanted to say something. Is this a bad time?” Oh god, what a dorky thing to say.

“What is it?” Tara slumped on the bed, turning watery eyes on the younger girl.

“Thank you. For everything you did for me, all summer.” Dawn sat down on the bed at Tara’s feet. Looking earnestly at the older girl, Dawn continued, “I had to tell you, because its important for you to know.”

Tara was surprised. “Dawnie . . th. . that’s so sweet.”

“Just wanted you to know. You’re important to me. Without you, dunno what would’ve happened.”

Fresh tears, this time not of grief, filled Tara’s eyes. “Oh sweetie.”

Her arms opened and the younger girl just settled against her. Dawn’s murmured, “plus I think you needed to know how much you mean to me,” went straight to Tara’s battered heart.

************************************ ****************************************

Going backwards, that’s what she was doing. Moving nowhere. Her parents weren’t home, they didn’t know she was coming back, not that either of them would notice. She’d left a message on her mother’s cell phone earlier, after she’d called Xander, just to let her know that her only daughter was returning home. He’d offered her the spare bedroom in his apartment, but she’d said no. Willow couldn’t imagine sharing living space with Anya. She wasn’t all that comfortable around the ex-demon even with their sort of bonding over Olaf.

Truth was, she still didn’t like Xander’s girlfriend. Could only take her in small doses. So she’d refused Xander’s offer.

And that’s how she ended up back where she started, lost and alone, no one at home and on the outside again.

Still with the not understanding why. She’d thought Buffy was in a hell dimension – it’s the only thing that made sense, but Buffy said that’s not where she was. How could she have made that big a mistake?

Had she?

Tara seemed to believe her, and except for the Spike situation, which was still oooky and bad, Buffy’s admission had a ring of truth.

What had she done?


*********************************** ****************************************

They stood there stunned, as the door shut behind Angel, neither one sure what had just happened. Anya twitched a bit when some of the smaller display items teetered on the shelves from the force of the slamming door. The roll-down gate rattled ominously then stilled.

“Do you think he’s going to follow them?” Anya wrung her hands. “That wouldn’t be good if he did that.”

“I don’t think he will.” Giles ventured a guess. Replacing his glasses back on his head, he wandered to the register in preparation for counting out the day’s receipts, when Anya realized what he was doing.

“No. Giles, that’s my responsibility. I count the money. You deal with the rest of it.” Reaching out to shoo him away, she brushed her hand against his, feeling a jolt of energy go through her. Looking up at him quizzically, Anya fought the urge to blurt out her reaction, wondering if he’d felt it also. Giles stepped back from the register, moving away from her, suddenly aware they were in the shop, alone, after hours.

Brushing aside his reaction to her presence as nothing more than the over-charged atmosphere of the last few hours, Giles moved through the glass bead curtain to the front door, his hand still tingling from her touch.

“Anya?” His voice sounded over his shoulder. “Do you think perhaps Buffy or Spike might be interested in filling the mail orders?”

Ever since she’d mentioned it the other day, it had been in the back of his mind to broach the subject with her, get a feel for what she thought about it. He thought it felt right, offering the position to either one of them, rather than seek outside help. The job would go a long way to paying some of the bills, though between them all they’d managed to keep the house afloat, and give Buffy more time to acclimate back into the world.

With his back to her, he sensed the increased intensity of her gaze on him, suddenly attuned to her attention. As he reached the front window, releasing the roll-down gate, Giles asked her again, “well, what do you think?”

She was watching him, a calculating gleam in her eyes, but a mixture of emotions on her features. Anya thought about it for a moment then reached an internal decision, saying, “well its not an entirely bad idea. I’m not sure Buffy’s up to working and really, do we know what kind of work history Spike has? Is either one of them competent enough to handle the business?”

Giles gaped at her. “You are aware you are talking about Spike?”

Nodding her head, Anya countered with, “I do know its Spike. There’s no denying his appeal, but I mean, really Giles, I don’t know if he knows how to coordinate orders like that.” To Anya, nothing was more important than customer satisfaction, because customer satisfaction meant increased sales and increased sales meant more money. It was a win-win situation. She wasn’t going to sacrifice any of her profits for any reason.

“Do you realize that Spike is probably the best educated person you’ve ever met?” It pained him to admit that, but Giles had to give the vampire credit, despite his own reluctance to admit to Spike he was the smarter of the two of them.

Lifting her head up from counting the day’s totals, Anya stared at Giles. He’d just admitted Spike was intelligent. “Well, I’ve always known he was smart.”

Making his way back toward the counter, Giles shook his head in denial. “I don’t think you realize what I’m saying Anya. I think the last person we need to worry about being able to fill orders is Spike.”

Anya put the money down then reached across the counter to touch Giles’ hand. This time, neither one of them could deny the spark, because at the same instant, they both looked up at each other. She forgot completely what she was about to say and watched transfixed as Giles fiddled with his glasses. Keeping uncharacteristically silent, Anya went back to counting, her eyes downcast and tried vainly to stop the blush spreading across her cheeks.


************************************ ******************************************


They were both quiet on the walk home from the Magic Box, each immersed in their own thoughts. Spike had no illusions that this was completely resolved, especially given Angel’s single-mindedness. The only positive was Darla’s condition because there was enough turmoil there to keep the bloody poofter occupied and keep his attention away from them. But they’d weathered this storm, come through the first hurdles, and it amazed him.

Which was more than he’d ever hoped for. He’d been prepared for her rejection once she found her bearings, but she hadn’t cut him loose as she gained her footing. If anything she’d opened up more.

They weren’t hiding in the shadows, pretending they weren’t together, pretending there was nothing real between them. The opposite was true. They were openly living together. A couple. Giles approved. Tara approved. Dawn – well, his Niblet was happier than a piglet. And Buffy had just given her first love the boot but good.

He gazed at her for a moment, catching sight of her profile. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but gods above how the thought of her affected him. He stopped in his tracks just to watch her.

The enormity of what she’d just done hit him with the force of a drowning wave. She’d just told the love of her life – and some vague memory of a half-drunken impassioned speech he’d made to her once about it flashed in his head – she’d told the love of her life to leave. And now, here she was walking home, to a home they shared together, beside him.

And obviously not thinking he was the second prize.

He stared at her back, dumbfounded.


*********************************** ****************************************

God, so needed out of there, was her first coherent thought away from the Magic Box. Away from Angel.

Watching Willow and Tara fall apart had forced Buffy into some serious thinking, about control and power and what it meant to be a couple – Spike’s actions since her return doing the same thing. And she’d realized some hard truths. She may have loved Angel, but he hadn’t loved her back, not the way she needed, anyway.

She’d been blind, unable to see what was in front of her the whole time. Angel had controlled and manipulated and made decisions about their life together, never once taking into consideration her wants or needs or desires and he’d completely ignored her dreams.

Whatever that emotion was – it sure as hell wasn’t love.

Buffy was pretty sure she knew what love was now. Like she’d just said to Angel, love was doing all the things Spike had been doing, taking care of the people she’d left behind, all of her loved ones. She’d trusted him with everything that was important to her – with Dawn. And he’d kept them all safe – even Xander.

She was pretty sure that alone was love.

Buffy stifled a teary laugh.

To think she’d once told him he was beneath her. God what a bitch she’d been to him. Still he’d done it all for her.

For her memory.

She’d almost blurted it out – in front of Angel, what she was beginning to feel, what she was going to stop denying. Instead, almost as if he’d known what she was about to say and wanted it said differently, he’d stolen a kiss.

Buffy looked up at him – and realized he wasn’t there, walking beside her. Whirling around, slightly panicked, she turned about and caught him watching her, a pensive look on his face.

“Spike?” Tilting her head, she watched him as he shook off his reverie.

“Yeah?” He tried for the swagger, but it faltered after a moment, his awe too great to overcome.

“What’s wrong?” Her smile was a bit tentative almost as if she were afraid of his answer.

“Nothin’s wrong love. Jus’ . . . “ struggling to find the right words, he settled for honest emotion to carry him through, “jus’ dunno if you understand . . how I feel. I love you, Buffy. W’everythin’ I am, all I have. Isn’t anythin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”

Her lip quivered and tears sprang, not just in her eyes, but in his also. “Give up my life to keep you safe, you an’ Dawn.”

Taking a step forward, he continued, “think I’ve always loved you, from the first, knew I wanted you then, jus’ . . god kitten, so full of fire an’ life. . . . you light up the world for me.”

Spike watched as tears slid down her cheeks, her hand raised to her mouth, holding back little hitching sobs.

“Christ . . you jus’ . . I love you.”

Neither one was sure who reached out first, neither one cared. All that mattered was his arms around her and she holding onto him. “Oh Spike . . I . . “

“Shhh, love. I know.”

And he thought, for the first time in his long existence, that he actually might be right.

************************************* ***************************************

After leaving Tara, Dawn had gone to her own room to get ready for bed, tired and drained. Today had been difficult. She should have known major badness was on its way, after all, school had started. Dawn was beginning to wonder if activity around the hellmouth was triggered by excessive teen-aged hormones in the vicinity. It was as good a theory as any.

She had a sudden need to write all that had happened down in her journal.

Pulling it out from under her pillow, Dawn unintentionally grabbed two of the monks’ journals. For a long couple of minutes she stared at them, wondering where she got the constant need to chronicle her day from, was it because the monks kept journals? Opening the top one resolutely she curled up on her bed and began to read. On page fourteen, she hit pay dirt.

We have found him again. He has radically changed his appearance once more. Brother Adam almost missed him. His hair is white blond and he’s taken to dressing in leather and ripped denim. He is tracking another Slayer, this one located in New York. Her name is Nicholette Wood, that much we have discovered but not much else, other than the fact she has been the Slayer for five years now. We have also discovered his true name. It is William. The Council of Watchers calls him the Slayer of Slayers. By my own hand, this 18th day of August, 1977, Gerald, Prior.

Dawn stopped breathing.