Chapter 17

Angel stared at the worn piece of paper for the hundredth time that day. Ever since Spike had left, it was all he could think about. He didn't tell anybody about it, because he hadn't made up his mind. Could he travel all the way to Africa? Would it work? Would the same thing that happened to Spike happen to him? Spike indicated in the letter that Angel would have a different experience. But could he really trust Spike about this?

He watched Cordelia move around the hotel, taking care of her various chores. She never complained, but he knew that she was tired of their "relationship." She deserved more, but he couldn't just walk out on her. He grimaced at the thought. He left Buffy for the same reason, and looked how well that worked out. Sure he had a life and a purpose in L.A., but even though he loved Cordy, he still regretted it every day.

Angel sighed, what was wrong with him? He had the perfect opportunity here, yet he hesitated. A part of him suspected that he didn't want a permanent soul. A small, nagging voice pointed out that if we went to Africa, Angelus wouldn't permanently die. What was so horrible about that? Nothing, really. He never wanted to be Angelus again, but..

Angel folded the letter and put it back into his pocket. There would be plenty of time to decide. He had a whole eternity, didn't he? But Cordelia didn't. Damn..

*** .Spike was bored. Painfully, terribly bored. He wasn't tired, he wasn't hungry, he wasn't restless. He had permission to leave his room now, but there wasn't anything out there he wanted to do. Buffy was at work, Dawn was in L.A., and Joyce was at her pre-school. So he had the entire house to himself, and nothing to do.

Last time he had the house to himself was when he was taking care of Dawn. Spike wasn't above snooping, and while Buffy was gone, he went through all of her personal belongings. Nobody had the heart to clean her room out.that's what he thought then, anyway. Now looking back it was clear that nobody cleaned out the room because they never thought she would be gone for long.

He was in her room now, and again, he wasn't above snooping. She had ten years worth of memories in this room, and she was a different person now. Spike understood that. Whatever had happened to her in the past decade had molded her into a woman that he didn't really know anymore. The girl he used to love simply would not be able to juggle a small child, a house, a job, on top of her slaying responsibilities. The girl he knew gave up on life, not once but twice.

He looked for clues now. Her wardrobe was far more conservative, in muted colors. Gone were the bright clothes and the belly shirts and the pants that were slightly too tight. Her shoes were sensible. Not a 4 inch heel among them. His girl had grown up.

Spike turned his attention to her desk. He found an old cigar box pushed to the very back of the bottom drawer. Curious, he pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a stack of letters, and all the envelopes contained one simple name, written in tight, feminine handwriting. Spike. Spike frowned and debated whether he should put the box back without reading the letters or not. On the one hand, he did feel slightly guilty now about reading her private thoughts. On the other hand, they were addressed to him, weren't they?

The conscience Spike acquired nearly a decade before didn't stop him from opening the envelope on the top. It was dated March 7, 2112. Nearly six months prior. He didn't read it immediately; instead he looked at when all the other letters were dated. At the very bottom of the pile was a letter dated February 28, 2002, three days after he had left town. It was also the shortest letter in the stack.

<I>Spike, I'm sorry. Please come back. </I>

He wondered if she would have sent these letters to him if she knew where to send them? He wondered if he would have come back if he had received such a letter? He had a feeling that Buffy never truly understood why he left. She thought it was just a fight, like the others that had defined their relationship. Fighting was never a problem before, and he was pretty thick skinned. No, he didn't leave because they had a fight. He left because it wasn't just a fight, wasn't just a war of angry words. He left because she honestly believed what she said.

He sighed and lost interest in the letters. Maybe he'd read them later. He carefully put the letters in the box the way he found them, and returned the box to its place in the drawer. He left her room the way he found it, and went downstairs to see what was on television.

Spike found it somewhat amusing that he hadn't watched television in a decade. All of his favorite shows were probably long over. He flipped through the stations and, to his delight, found Passions. As the hour progressed, he was thrilled to see that he could still follow the storyline. But that didn't match the excitement when he saw that Springer was still on the air. Now that was quality television. He wondered idly if one of the cable stations was carrying Dawson's Creek. Maybe he could find it on DVD. He'd have to ask Buffy about that.

He was engrossed by the drama on the screen when Buffy came home. "You left your room, huh?" She said pleasantly as she closed the door.

"Yep, decided I needed to catch up on my shows."

Buffy smiled, "Did you look in the closet?"

"No. Why?"

Buffy opened the hall closet widely, and Spike gaped. "Dawn recorded every episode of Passions, and when she moved, she made sure I did as well."

"Why?"

"She.we.never believed you wouldn't come back," Buffy explained quietly.

Spike didn't know how to respond that. It seemed she was surprising him on a daily basis. Did her version of events allow for him to return? Were they remembering things so radically differently that she could honestly believe he would return, no hard feelings, and worried about Passions? He saw from her smiling face that that was indeed the case. For the first time, Spike began to doubt his own mind.

"I thought you said you wouldn't be home until after five?" Spike asked.

She shrugged, "Sometimes when it's slow, I go home early."

"What do you do now, anyway?"

"There is a little clothing store in the mall. I'm the manager. It's not bad at all. I get to set my own hours so it doesn't get in the way of my other job," she paused and tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. "It's a lot of responsibility, but I really enjoy it."

"I'm glad to hear you aren't working at the Double Meat," Spike spat the name of the fast-food chain.

She laughed, "No, I quit that place a long time ago. I've been working in the mall for several years now."

She sat down beside him and watched what was on the televsion for a few moments. "I can't believe this is still on the air."

"Neither can I. What's this about not letting Joyce watch telly?"

Buffy shook her head. "She's allowed to watch a few hours a day. Mainly things on PBS. I...I just don't know how to raise a small child, you know? And it's hard because she's so smart, Spike. I don't want her to waste that intelligence on TV. I want her to read and play."

"She is extremely bright," Spike agreed. "Has she shown any uh.magical abilities?"

"I've been watching her carefully, but nothing yet. So far she just has their brains. Anyway, Xander is coming over for dinner tonight, and I've got some errands to run."

Spike watched her move about the house, straightening up, picking up Joyce's toys, and dusting. It occurred to him that he could offer to help her out, but he wasn't in the helping mood. For her part, she didn't seem to expect him to get up and lend her a hand. He lost interest in the television, and just let his eyes follow her. He used to love to watch her, and could do so for hours without interruption.

"Are you hungry?" She asked.

"No, I'm fine."

Buffy walked into the kitchen, aware of his eyes on her. She was feeling very self-conscious, and awkward. She missed the way they used to talk, and now it was hard work to carry on a conversation. She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't just want to talk about Joyce all of the time, but it seemed that at this point, she was all they had in common. They didn't have a common experience in ten years, and before he left, it seemed they were never on the same page. Even the sex was awkward, and at times, unfulfilling.

She had two hours before she had to pick up Joyce, and three before she expected Xander. Maybe she could think of something fun to do with Spike.

"Hey, Spike," she said, entering the living room, "do you want to play Scrabble?"

Spike raised one eyebrow, "What?"

"Scrabble. Do you want to play?"

Spike was bewildered; did she want to play Scrabble? What on Earth would posses her to ask if he wanted to play Scrabble? "Why?"

Buffy frowned, "I just thought it sounded like fun is all."

"Since when do you think Scrabble is fun? That doesn't strike me as something you would enjoy," Spike said.

"What does that mean?" She demanded. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Spike shook his head, "You just never struck me as very academic."

"I'll have you know that I got a 700 verbal score on my SATs," she informed him.

"Slayer, I don't even know what that means."

She flopped down on the couch, "It means I'm smart enough to play Scrabble."

They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the talk show. "Are you bored?" Spike finally asked. "Is that why you're sitting here scowling?"

"No, I'm not bored. I'm frustrated."

"Been awhile since your last boyfriend, Slayer?"

Buffy punched his arm, "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I didn't expect things to be so awkward between us."

"What? You thought we could just be best friends again?"

"We were never.." Buffy started to protest, then faltered. Spike stared at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "Can we start again?" She asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Start over, you know. Put the past behind us. We were friends once and..."

"No."

"No?"

"No. No starting over. I'm not interested in starting anything with you."

Buffy was hurt, and was horrified at the tears prickling the back of her eyes. "Why not?

Spike leaned forward, "Because you never..

*** ".trust me?" Spike demanded. "Is that so difficult?"

"Yes," Buffy answered. "Why should I? Last time I trusted you, you tried to get the chip removed."

"Well, I didn't do anything."

"How am I supposed to know that? Your girlfriend comes to town, there's a rash of 'mysterious' murders, and I'm not supposed to suspect you?"

"What do you think I did? Stared at them to death?"

"You probably fed from them after she killed them," Buffy answered.

Spike frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"The way I figure it, you didn't tell me Dru was in town because you were enjoying the all You-Can-Eat-Buffet."

Spike shook his head and began to walk away, but then turned around. "This isn't about whether or not I was feeding off of Dru's leftovers. What's really bothering you?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"You know I didn't do anything. Why are you picking a fight?"

"All we ever do is fight."

"Because you won't allow yourself to be happy for five minutes."

"How can I be happy Spike? Look at my life."

"You won't let me make you happy."

"What? Are you going to bring my mom back? Are you going to stop Glory? Are you going to protect my sister and my friends?"

"I'm doing my best to help you, Buffy."

"But it'll never be enough, Spike. You won't ever be able to do enough."

"I see."

"No, you don't see. Spike, can't you feel it? It's all spinning out of control. And now Drusilla is back in town.."

"She's gone," Spike said quietly. "You don't have to worry about her."

"Did she leave town?"

"Don't worry about it Slayer, she won't bother you again."

"I can't do this anymore, Spike. I need to rest."

"Come to my crypt and you can get some sleep."

"No, Spike, I need to rest."

Spike pulled her against him and looked into her eyes. She looked like she had aged ten years in the past ten days. "I know, pet. I know." Spike didn't say anything then, but he knew that was the moment he lost his Slayer forever.

Chapter 18

"How long will he be staying here?" Xander asked as he helped Buffy set the table.

She shrugged, "I don't know. We haven't really talked about it."

"Joyce seems to like him," he commented. Buffy couldn't tell if he was upset about that or not.

"Yeah, she freaked out a bit when she found out he's a vampire," Buffy said casually.

"Wait, wait, wait," Xander said, holding up his hands, "I thought we decided we weren't going to tell her about vampires yet."

"Well, we weren't. But Spike accidentally vamped out yesterday morning, and the cat was sorta out of the bag."

"Accidentally? Was he trying to hurt her?"

Buffy took a deep breath, slightly upset at how suspicious Xander was. Why would he think that Spike would try to hurt her little girl? "No, she frightened him."

Xander started laughing. "Little Joyce frightened the Big Bad?"

Buffy went into the living room to check on Joyce and Spike. They were sitting comfortably together on the couch, watching a NOVA special about whales. She watched them for several minutes, with a small smile tugging at her lips. Occasionally Joyce would ask a question, and Spike would answer patiently. Buffy could tell by the smile on Joyce's face and her body language that she had just found her new best friend.

"Joyce, it's time to go wash up for dinner."

"I don't want to."

"Go on, Joyce. You know you have to."

Joyce scowled at her and crawled off the couch and walked angrily into the kitchen. "She's got a temper," Buffy explained, watching her go.

"Yeah, so did Red."

"It wasn't so close to the surface though. If she's bothering you..."

Spike shook his head, "Nah, she's no bother."

"Are you sure you don't want to eat with us?"

"I'm sure I can't deal with Harris right now."

"He'll be on his best behavior," Buffy offered.

Spike snorted, "Whatever. No, I'll just finish watching this fine program."

Buffy, Xander, and Joyce at in silence. Joyce practically breathed her food in so she could leave the table. It was obvious to Buffy that she was eager to get back to Spike. And Buffy couldn't really blame her. She always enjoyed her weekly dinners with Xander, but tonight she just wanted to leave Joyce with Spike and go patrolling. She needed time and space to think, because things just weren't working out, and she didn't understand why.

She hurried Xander through dinner and out the door, and hoped that he didn't take offense. He had a question in his eyes, but he allowed her to rush him through the evening.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Depends."

"Will you keep an eye on Joyce while I patrol? I'll be back in an hour."

"No problem."

Buffy frowned, "If you're sure.."

"I'm sure. Go patrol."

"I'll put her to bed when I get home."

"Ok."

Spike looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to grab her coat and just leave already. Joyce ignored her. Now there was a National Geographic Special about polar bears, and she was entranced. Buffy reassured herself that they were fine and opened the.

..door, allowing Spike to enter first. "We don't have a lot time. You get the weapons downstairs, I have some in my room."

"Buffy.." Spike grabbed her arm.

"Not now, Spike."

"Then when? I need to talk to you."

"We have to go, they're waiting for us. Dawn is..."

"I know. Buffy.."

"We're not all going to make it."

"I know."

"I'm counting on you to protect her."

"Till the end of the world, even if that happens to be tonight."

"Thank you." Spike watched her walk upstairs, and he thought he might choke. She was so beautiful, and tonight, she was all Slayer. She had purpose. And for the first time in weeks, Spike saw spirit. The world had been holding her down, and the weight of it had suffocated her. She wouldn't let him, or anybody else, help. But tonight, she was going to use all of her troops, and she was going to save her sister and the world. Because that's what she did.

"Ready?" She asked, returning.

"Buffy, I.."

"Spike, please, let's just go."

"Damnit Buffy, you are going to listen to me."

She stopped and turned around, "What?"

"I love you."

She sighed, "Spike, I know. Come on."

"Buffy, please. You think you aren't going to see the sunrise, but you will. I won't let anything happen to Dawn."

Buffy smiled, and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I know. I." Buffy paused, and remembered what her Spirit Guide said. The Slayer forges strength from love. Love. "Spike, I love you too."

Spike gaped, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. "Slayer?"

"Come on. We have a war to fight."

Spike followed her out quietly, ready for the battle. Tonight was not the night for mushy sentiments and romantic declarations of love. There would be time enough tomorrow night for that. Buffy led the way to the Magic Box, satisified that if she didn't make it through, then at least Spike would know that she loved...

***

.him. That was the problem. Even after ten years, she still loved him. She never stopped loving him, no matter what she told him before he left. She was stupid. And crazy. She would have to tell Spike about that sometime. How crazy she was.

She should have spent more time looking for him. Spike didn't exactly blend into his environment. If she had just put up more of an effort, he wouldn't have been gone so long. She could have saved him from himself, and they wouldn't have lost ten years.

Part of Buffy believed that, but the other part recognized that their relationship had never been easy, and there was no reason to believe even if she had found him sooner, things would be different than they are now.

Slaying wasn't a challenge at all anymore, and there were very few vamps left in Sunnydale. Demons were still attracted to the Hellmouth though, but fewer and fewer came each year. If she didn't have Joyce, she would probably move away and find some place with more activity, a place that needed her more. But she had something resembling a life in Sunnydale, and so while the threat grew less menacing, she stuck around.

For awhile she had toyed with the thought of moving to Los Angeles and working with Angel. He had told her more than once that he could use all the help he could get. It seemed that all the demons and vamps that were skipping Sunnydale were vacationing in L.A. But it would have been too difficult for her to live there and watch Angel and Cordelia together. She could accept they loved each other, but it still stung a little.

And of course, she always had that little bit of hope that Spike would return and look for her in Sunnydale. It wouldn't do to miss him because she was living in L.A.

She sighed and turned east, towards the last two cemeteries of the night. Hopefully she'd be home before the evening news started.

***

Spike had to admit, he liked watching TV with Joyce. She asked a lot of questions, but that didn't bother him. He was happy to answer them. She yawned widely and then grinned at him, her eyes sparkling.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

She shook her head, "No. It's not my bedtime."

Spike looked at the clock. "Buffy said you should be in bed by nine. It's past nine-thirty."

"I don't wanna go to bed."

"I know, but we don't want to make Buffy mad, do we?"

"No. Will you tell me a story?"

"I don't know any," Spike protested. Well, that was technically true. He didn't know any that was suitable for four year old girls. The last thing he needed was to be responsible for more nightmares.

"Please. I'm sure you know lots."

"Ok, ok. Let's go."

"Carry me?"

Spike rolled his eyes, then lifted her warm, wriggly body into his arms. She was soft, and smelt like candy and apples. She relaxed against him, and Spike marveled at how trusting she was. There wasn't a doubt in her head that Spike would take care of her. Spike realized that he wanted to take care of her.

"Right then, here you are," he said, depositing her in her bed.

"I need to brush my teeth."

"You can do that in the morning."

"Buffy says I should do it every night."

"Yeah, well, Buffy isn't here, is she? Now lay down."

Joyce obeyed, and pulled her Muppets comforter up to her chin. "Spike, did you know my mommies?"

"I did."

"Tell me about them."

Spike settled himself on the bed beside her. "Well, Willow, she was a smart bird. Cute too. She used to wear this skirt and pink sweater that..well, anyway, she was a smart girl. She was kind hearted, always wanted to take care of people and save the world. And her bird.Tara..she was a good woman. Classy."

"How did you know them?"

"Well, a long time ago, we were all friends." Sort of. Spike didn't think he could explain the whole thing to the little girl.

"Tell me a story about them."

Spike closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He never spent too much time with the Witches, until after Buffy died, and that wasn't a time he liked to remember. But they took care of him, and for that short time, they all got along.

"Well, there was this one time they saved my life."

"How?"

"A long time ago, long before you were born, someone I loved very much died."

"I'm sorry," Joyce interrupted, and Spike felt a pierce of guilt as her eyes began to well up.

"Oh, it's ok," he hastened to her assure her, "it's ok now. Let me tell you. See, I loved her very much and I didn't think I could make it one more...

***

".night," Tara said, concern etched across her face. "And if he does make it through the night, he'll just be waiting outside for the sun."

"What should we do about it?" Willow asked. "We can't worry about him right now. We have so many other things..and...and how can we take care of him?"

"We have each other, Will. You saw how devastated he was...he doesn't have anybody. I think Buffy was his best friend."

Willow frowned, "Why would you think that? All they did was work together. Why? Do you think they did more than work together?"

"Willow, we can worry about that later. Let's get Spike here so we can keep an eye on him. Dawn is worried about him too."

"What if he won't come over willingly?"

Tara shrugged, "We have to try."

They walked to his crypt in silence, their battered and sore bodies protesting. They should be resting, they were both exhausted. But if Tara was worried about the welfare of the vampire, then Willow would help her do whatever she thought needed to be done.

When they arrived, they found Spike sitting on the floor, propped up against the sarcophagus. His clothes were filthy, and blood was still seeping out of his back onto the concrete floor. He was staring blankly into space, and he didn't even look up when they entered.

"Spike," Tara said gently, kneeling beside him, "Come with us so we can take care of your wounds."

He didn't respond.

"Spike, we want to help you. Please come back with us."

"Can't," Spike muttered.

Tara looked up at Willow, hopeful. If he was responding then she had a better chance with him. "Spike, yes you can. Come on, you're bleeding."

"What time is it?"

Tara looked at her watch, "A couple of hours until dawn. That's why you need to come with us now."

"Waiting for dawn."

"Spike, you can't. Please, we need you," Willow said, kneeling on the other side of him. Losing Buffy was..but they couldn't lose Spike too. Not now. Dawn loved him and she needed him. And if Willow was going to be totally honest, she could admit that they all needed him. He was the strongest one. And the threat was never gone for long.

"Don't need me."

"Yes, yes we do," Tara insisted. But Spike didn't respond, and he wouldn't allow himself to be pulled to his feet. He never actively dissuaded them from helping him, but he didn't really let them help him either. He said, unmovable, unseeing, uncaring, while they tugged on him and pleaded with him. Finally, when they were just about to give up, he stood, without warning.

He moved across the crypt slowly. Willow watched him go, happy to see that he was cooperating with him.

"Willow, quick!" Tara shouted, just as Spike opened the door, and they saw dawn's first fingers light the entry.

With a flick of her wrist, Willow slammed the door shut just as Tara ran across the room and yanked Spike back. "What's wrong you?" She shouted, and Willow's eyes widened with surprise. She had never heard her sweet girlfriend raise her voice to anybody before.

"I killed her," Spike shouted back. "Now, let me go."

Tara shook her head, "You didn't kill her, Spike."

"If I had done my part, she wouldn't have died. If I had protected Dawn she wouldn't have..I can't..." Spike looked at her helplessly, "Just please let me go."

"Come with us Spike. Please."

"You don't understand. Red, she understands, don't you? You don't want to be here. Take your bird and go home."

Willow shook her head, "Spike, it's not your fault."

Spike was about to protest when the door flung open, and Spike reflexively took a step back, away from the sun. "There you are," Giles exclaimed. "We've been searching for the past 3 hours."

"We're trying to help Spike," Tara explained softly. "He wants to.." Spike made another lunge for the door, and again, Willow slammed it shut. "Go for a walk," she finished for Tara.

"Yes, I see." Giles looked bad and felt even worse. All he could think was that his Slayer was gone. Over and over and over he replayed the fall in his mind, as he stood helpless and mute with horror, watching her plunge to her death. It seemed that he really noticed Spike for the first time, and realized that he was just as battered physically and emotionally as the rest of them. "Spike, why don't you let me drive you to Buf..Dawn's. She wants to take care of you."

Spike looked at him, his blue eyes wide and wet with tears. "She doesn't want anything to do with me. I failed, I.." He squared his shoulders, and in a blink of an eye, the tears were gone. Suddenly, he didn't look so suicidal. "Right then, take me to Dawn."

Spike's plan was to sneak out of the house later that day, when they were all gone or asleep. He didn't want to live without Buffy, and he couldn't go one with the knowledge that it was his fault. That he had failed to live up to his promise. That he had failed to protect the two most precious things in his life, and now the Slayer...his Slayer...was gone.

But Tara wouldn't let him. She kept a close eye on him, sleeping only after Willow gave Spike a sleeping potent, guaranteed to knock him out for at least 24 hours. She kept an eye on him even after that low, as the days turned into weeks that stretched into long, harsh, unforgivable months. She wouldn't let him give on Dawn, or the rest of them.

Every morning, Spike would wake up at dawn, and head upstairs to the kitchen. His hand would hover over the doorknob, as he gathered the courage to do what he felt was truly necessary, and every morning, she would place her hand on his and guide him away from the door. They never spoke a word about it, but it was a ritual and neither ever failed to show up for. Did he ever thank Tara for saving his life...

*** ".everyday," he finished. "They took care of me everyday, until I got my strength back."

Joyce didn't respond, she had drifted off to sleep. Spike smiled and tucked the blanket carefully around her. "Red, Glinda, I know you're watching over her. If you can hear me, I just want to say thanks."

Spike felt rather silly talking to himself, and turned to leave quickly, before he woke up the sleeping girl. He was surprised to see Buffy standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"How long have you been home?" Spike asked.

"Not long."

"Right, well, I'm off to bed."

Buffy stepped out of his way, then shut the door, after getting one more look at Joyce. "Thanks for taking care of her. Did you make sure she brushed her teeth?"

"Yeah. It was no problem. I like her."

She smiled, "So do I. Is there anything you need before I go to bed?"

Spike studied her face carefully. God, she was still so beautiful. It wouldn't take much for him to gather her up in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. He wanted to taste her one more time, at least. "No," he finally said softly, "I'm good."

She took a step towards him, and suddenly, he was trapped between her and the bedroom door. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, warming him to his core. His body long to pressed up against hers, and it gravitated towards her smooth skin and soft curves.

Like it always did before when he was this close to her, just a whisper away from touching, time seemed to stand still, and his senses were heightened. He could hear Joyce breathing softly in her room, and he could hear Buffy's pulse race. He could smell her sweet blood just below the scent of peaches and apple shampoo. Surely just one little kiss for old time's sake wouldn't hurt?

Later he would blame the painful memories of losing her. He had just relived his worst nightmare come to life, surely it would be ok to just kiss her, and reassure himself that she was really alive. But whatever the reasons, Spike leaned forward and gently touched her mouth with his lips.

And the world exploded. He lost himself in her taste, her scent, the way she felt against him. His mind was racing with just one thought; love, love, love this woman. Love his Slayer. Love her body and spirt, and he could never let her go. Not ever again. Oh God. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and it felt like coming home. She still tasted the same. How could she still taste the same? How could he still want her so much?

Spike pulled away before the kiss could turn to something else, and they stared at each other, panting. Spike blinked and tried to clear his head, he couldn't do this. Not right now, maybe not ever. "Slayer, you better go to bed. You look tired."

"Spike?" She looked as confused as he felt, but he couldn't deal with anything more tonight. He couldn't risk doing anything else.

"See you in the morning." He turned and entered his bedroom, the door clicking behind. The lock sounded ominous and loud as he turned it, but it didn't drown the choked sob and the slamming of Buffy's door.

Chapter 19

Spike stayed in his room, avoiding Buffy and Joyce while they got ready for the day. He didn't leave until they had left for the day, and he had the house to himself. All night he dreamt about kissing Buffy. He wondered what she would have done if he had knocked on her door. Would she let him in? Did he even want to be let in to her world?

After he had breakfast, he wondered back upstairs into Buffy's room. He was curious about those letters. Maybe if he read a few of them, he could understand exactly what was going on in her head. Or maybe not; he never understood her anyway.

The letter he pulled out was written just two days after the first one, according to the date. The ink ran in a few places, and the paper looked rumpled, like she had balled it up and thrown it away. He could picture her rummaging through the can and straightening out the paper, trying to make it look presentable again.

Spike, Fine, I'm glad you are gone. You aren't worth all of the trouble, all of this heart break. You think you know me so well. You think you can fix this? This will never be fixed. I will never be fixed. She wrote another paragraph, but scratched it all out. At one point, the paper had even ripped under the force of her pen. Then at the bottom of the page two simple, small words caught his eye.

Come home.

Spike closed his eyes. He wished things had been different. He never planned on staying away for so long. After she had come back, he knew he could never live without her again. He knew he never wanted to live without her again. Now he didn't really want to live with her at all. But his heart still ached for her. He should have stayed and helped her. He shouldn't have gone. She needed him, and he ran.

Spike shook his head, no, he didn't just run away. She knew what happened to him that summer, and everything he did for her and..

".Dawn! What are you doing?" Spike shouted up the stairs.

"I'm getting ready!" She yelled back.

"Your date is here!"

Willow came out of the kitchen, "What's all the shouting about?"

"Just letting Dawn know her friend is here," he said, throwing a cold look at the nervous boy standing on the front porch.

"You didn't even invite him in?" Willow asked. "And you could have gone up to get her."

"Didn't want to leave the boy by himself," Spike explained. "And I'm not going to invite into the house. Are you daft?"

Willow looked at the young man apologetically, "Dawn will be down in a minute. In fact, I'll go up and check on her."

"So," Spike said, turning his attention to the boy, "What's your name?"

"Harold..sir."

"Harold, tell me about yourself."

"Um..I'm a Senior."

"And your dating Freshmen?"

"No.I mean, yes, I mean..I really like Dawn."

"Sure you do Harry." Spike took a step out the door, and Harold backed up to the edge of the porch. "Touch one single hair on your head, and I'll rip out your throat." Spike smiled and his eyes flashed yellow, "Are we clear?"

"Yes, yes sir. Clear as day."

"Good man. Now, where do you plan on going tonight?" Spike asked as he stepped back into the house.

"We're going to see a movie, and then out to dinner with some friends."

"That's nice, be home by 10:30 or.." Spike didn't have time to finish his threat before Dawn came downstairs, with her hair carefully braided and her make-up carefully applied. She looked so mature that Spike was startled for a moment. He had been watching this little girl for the past five months, and all of a sudden she was a young woman. Spike was not happy about the latest development.

"10:30," Spike reminded the girl as she hurried past him. "Ten thirty!"

Dawn smiled at him, acknowledging his request, but didn't promise anything. Spike growled as he shut the door behind them, then pulled his coat on.

"Where are you going?" Willow asked.

"Patrolling."

"You're going to follow them, aren't you?" Willow accused.

Spike shrugged, "So? Someone's gotta keep an eye on them."

"Spike, you don't need to watch her constantly. She can take care of herself," Tara said softly.

Spike sighed and fished for a cigarette. "Can I go out and buy some fags?" "Spike, just relax. You've trained Dawn how to fight, she can take care of herself," Willow assured him.

Spike threw himself down onto the couch without removing his duster. "What are you two up to tonight?"

Willow and Tara looked at each other nervously. Spike could hear their heartbeats increase slightly, but he didn't pay any attention to it. They probably had a night of "spell casting" planned. Didn't matter, it wasn't any of his business. "We're going over to Xander's," Willow said, "You know, watching movies."

"Sounds like fun," Spike said, but he wasn't paying attention to them anymore; he was distracted by Jeopardy. Willow and Tara exchanged a look and then quickly fled the house.

"Don't wait up!" Tara said as she shut the door. Spike grunted in response.

Spike was engrossed in a Lifetime Movie special when 10:30 rolled around and Dawn did not. At 10:45, Spike was frantically roaming the streets, looking for her. He knew that the cemeteries and the forests were both popular places for teenagers to hangout, and hence, popular places for vampires to feed.

Spike decided that when he found the kids, he wouldn't kill Dawn, but he would kill the little bastard she was with. He began devising ways to punish her for scaring him like this. Little bint, 10:30 meant 10:30. Not 10:45, not 11:00. 10:30. He knew she wasn't a stupid girl, so why was he out wondering the streets of Sunnydale looking for her?

It had started to rain pretty hard while he was out, and he decided to check one more cemetery before heading back to the house. Maybe she was there, getting ready for bed, blissfully oblivious to all the trouble she was causing. He almost didn't hear the voices that were lost in the clap of thunder, but he caught the tail end of Willow's nervous giggle.

He frowned, maybe they were patrolling. Without him. In the rain. Without weapons. Fuck. Spike didn't have time to be babysitting the fucking Scooby Gang tonight, he had to baby-sit a 16 year old girl.

"Look, we just need to go back to Buffy's house and get the rest of the ingredients," Willow assured them.

"I thought you said that was the last of the Urns," Xander said.

"Well, it is. But I think we can do something else..."

"Maybe we should just leave it," Tara shouted to be heard over another roar of thunder.

"No!" Willow shouted back, "I'm not leaving her."

Spike was torn. He knew there was something wrong with them, but he also had to check on Dawn. He decided to beat them home, see if Dawn was safe, and then go back. To her grave. To see what the stupid children had done, what kind of damage they had caused.

Dawn, fortunately, was home waiting for him, when he burst through the door, wet and angry. "How long have you been home?" Spike demanded.

"Since, uh, eleven," she said in a small voice.

"Go to your room, you're grounded," Spike said, not looking at her. He was rummaging in the chest for something he could use as a shovel...and a weapon.

"You can't ground me," Dawn said defiantly.

Spike looked up, vamped out, his fury barely concealed. "Dawn, I'm not playing tonight. Go to your room."

Dawn stood by the couch, lip quivering, and Spike stared her down until she turned and ran up the stairs. He closed his eyes. He didn't mean to treat her like that, but something was seriously wrong. He could feel it in his bones. This storm could be the result of whatever those children were playing at...but he thought something much worse than a thunder storm was going on.

He was holding Buffy's favorite axe and smoking a cigarette when they all opened the door. "Spike!" Willow exclaimed. "Are you going out?"

"Yep."

"What for? We already patrolled tonight," Xander stated.

Spike flicked his cigarette past them, out the door. "But that's not all you four did tonight, is it?"

"What.what do you mean?"

"What did you guys do?" Spike demanded, his voice and face hard. Suddenly they were all reminded that this was not Dawn's wet nurse, it was a master vampire. A very, very angry master vampire.

"Look, Chip Boy, I don't know what you are.."

Spike lunged for him and pushed him against the wall, holding the axe up to his throat. He ignored the pain in his head, fury completely overriding everything. "What did you do?"

"Apart!" Willow shouted, and Spike was flung away from Xander.

Spike picked himself up and grabbed the axe. "You better hope I don't find anything, and I mean anything, at her grave."

"And what if you do?" Willow challenged.

Spike didn't answer, just smiled. The coldest smile any of them had ever seen, and then he was gone in the torrent of rain. Gone to look for the..

'.Slayer anymore,' The third letter said. I don't want to be The Slayer, and I don't want to be here, and I don't want to be Dawn's sister, and I never want to see you again either. I never wanted to be your girl, damn you! Never nevernever never never never never never..

With every line he read, his heart broke. Fuck. What a mess. How did she pull through this? She made it beautifully, and now she was...she was amazing, like she had always been. God. But coming back changed her in a very basic, fundamental way. She wasn't the woman he knew anymore. Nobody knew her, and he cursed her friends every day she was back, from the moment he found...

*** ..her. He had to find her. He could feel her. He ran through the cemetery to the woods, where her grave was hidden from the monsters and the citizens of Sunnydale. The rain was falling so hard now that he could barely see, but he didn't need his eyes to find it. He knew the path to her grave by heart.

He arrived within minutes of leaving the house, and he thought that some tears were mingling with the rain. He hoped he was wrong. He was almost ready to pray to the God who didn't want him that he was wrong. Maybe they had done it wrong. Maybe they didn't have the right spell. Maybe the broke the Urn. Resurrection spells were notoriously difficult and tricky, and there was no guarantee that it would work. But even worse, there was no guarantee that it would work properly. Something could still dig itself free from Buffy's coffin tonight.

Spike stood still, above her grave marker, straining his ears to hear her heartbeat, or breathing, beneath the dirt. But he couldn't hear anything over the storm, and so he had no choice but to start digging.

As he used the axe to clear the dirt, he shouted her name, over and over. "Buffy! Buffy, luv, can you hear me?" Oh God, Buffy.

The more dirt he scooped out, the harder it rained. There was no doubt in his mind that the powerful magics they were playing with had caused the storm. Which meant that Buffy was probably waiting for him, clawing herself out of her own coffin, getting her beautiful, petite hands bruised and bloody. How could they do this and leave her?

He almost cut off her hand with the axe before he saw it. The second he saw the bloody fingers, he threw the axe away and began clawing at the ground frantically. "Buffy! Buffy hold on! I'm coming."

He didn't realize that Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya had caught up with him, and were frozen at the sight that was before them. Spike looked like an animal, using whatever he could to remove the dirt and reach Buffy, even his teeth. His face was going back and forth from vamp to human, and Willow understood that this was a result of his emotions. She considered helping him, but realized she might get her lungs torn out for her trouble.

"Buffy! Can you hear me?" Spike yelled frantically.

Buffy's response was a muffled scream, and he finally grabbed her hand and began pulling her from her grave. She finally pulled free from the dirt, the coffin, and the afterlife, and both Spike and Buffy fell back. Spike clutched her to them, and even in the rain, the rest of them could hear their sobs and gasps for breath. "What did you do?" Buffy cried, over and over, "What did you do?"

Spike didn't respond, just clutched her tightly to his chest. He was scared to let her go. Scared that this was a dream, a nightmare, and any second he'd wake up and she'd be back in the cold ground. "What did you.."

*** ".do?" Buffy had asked them that when he had pulled her from the ground. It's a question he never had an answer for. Did he somehow wish her alive? Could he have done something to stop them before they went that far? Could he have stopped the powerful witch? He should have tried. One more thing to feel guilty about. It was his fault she died and his fault that she didn't stay dead.

Chapter 20

Buffy sighed and collapsed on the couch. She had fought with Joyce all night, over everything. Joyce didn't want to eat dinner, she didn't want to take a bath, and she wanted to watch music videos like the kids at the day care. She ignored Buffy completely, latching onto Spike and making it clear that she would only listen to him. But to Spike's credit, he did try to help get the child under control.

Finally, at nearly eleven o'clock, she had fallen asleep. Buffy decided to make a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning. Usually Joyce was especially difficult when she had an ear infection, and it wouldn't hurt to go in for a check-up anyway.

Spike had disappeared out the door, away from Joyce's screams and tantrums, at nine. He didn't say he would be back, and she honestly didn't know if she'd see him again. She didn't think he would just run off like that, but what did she know? She also never thought that Spike would hate her, but it appeared that he did now.

She was really tired of the tension between them. He was running hot and cold on her, and she didn't know what to do about it. Should she fight for him, and make him give her another chance? Or should she let him go gracefully? She suspected that Spike didn't want to continue fighting with her, but something was holding him back. Maybe it was the soul.

She felt exhausted, but not tired. She decided to watch some late night movie and try to relax. She wasn't eager to go to sleep. The night before she had the Dream again, the one she hadn't had in years. After they brought her back, she had it every night for nearly three years. It was always the same. The dark, suffocating, cold coffin. Digging her way through mud, but she never could break through. She would dig and dig and dig, but there was always more dirt. In her dreams, Spike wasn't waiting to pull her out and save her. Spike wasn't waiting to carry her home and bandage her..

***

".hands?" Dawn asked. It wasn't the most intelligent question, but she was far too stunned to think of anything else to say. Her sister was very much alive, standing before her, shivering, wet, with her dirty, bloody arms wrapped defensively around her body.

"Bit, go upstairs and start a bath. We'll be right up." Spike's voice was soft, but commanding. It never occurred to Dawn to question him.

"What are you going to do?" Xander demanded. He was nervous and frightened, and as a result, his voice had almost a shrill quality.

"I'm going to take her upstairs and clean her up," Spike said calmly.

"Shouldn't we do that?" Willow asked, "We're her friends."

Spike's voice remained calm, "You've done quite enough for one night." He didn't wait for the witch's response; instead he began helping Buffy up the stairs.

Buffy's eyes were glassy and blank, but she was aware of everything that was going on around her, and she was relieved that Spike was taking care of her. He knew how to be gentle. He knew what she needed. And he saved her from the cold darkness.

"Is there anything else you need me to do?" Dawn asked when they reached the bathroom.

"Find her some clean clothes to sleep in, and get her bed ready," Spike instructed, while he began removing Buffy's wet and filthy clothes.

"Spike?" Dawn asked.

Spike sighed, "Dawn, please go. I'll explain later."

She nodded and went across the hall to Buffy's room, shutting the door behind her. Spike reached over and locked it. He finished undressing her in silence, and then helped her step into the tub, full of hot water. He began gently washing the dirt away without breaking the silence.

"What happened?" She finally asked, when she was clean and relatively warm.

"I don't know," Spike said honestly. "I guess Willow's more powerful than we thought."

"She did this?"

"Willow and the other three. They didn't bother to inform me and Dawn of their plans," Spike said, and she could easily hear the anger in his voice.

"What would you have done if you had known?"

"Stopped them," he said simply. "I would have stopped them."

Spike stood abruptly and grabbed the large, fluffy towel that Dawn had placed on the toilet. He held it open for her, and she stepped out of the tub and into her arms. He wrapped it around her and held her close to his body. "Don't leave me tonight," she whispered.

"Never," he promised. "Come on now, you have to get some..

***

".sleep?" Spike asked.

"Huh?" Buffy asked groggily.

"How long have you been asleep?" Spike repeated, slowly. "Uh, I don't know. What time is it?"

"Around three."

Buffy yawned, "A couple hours. I guess I'll head up to bed. Did you just get in?"

"Yeah, a few minutes ago. Wanted to see if anything had changed."

"Has it?"

"Changed? Well, nobody knows who I am. Guess I have to rebuild my reputation." He smiled at her, "Started tonight by getting a spot of violence in."

"Good, I'm too exhausted to patrol," Buffy said, smiling. He looked and sounded more like the Spike she used to know. She considered this excellent progress. "You going to bed now?"

"Nah, I'm gonna eat something and watch some telly."

"Alright, here, let me pull the shades in case you fall asleep. I don't want to explain the big pile of ashes to Joyce tomorrow."

"I'm smarter than that, Slayer."

She laughed, "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

Before she retired to her own room, she stopped to check on Joyce. From the door, the dark room looked perfectly normal and everything seemed all right. Buffy decided to risk waking her up by getting a closer look at her. Her heart always swelled at the sight of the sleeping girl, and Buffy knew she could watch her sleep for hours.

Buffy pulled the blankets back, and then stood frozen at the sight before her. She blinked her eyes several times, praying that she was still asleep and this was a dream. But every time she opened her eyes, the same thing greeted her.

The bed was empty. Save for a piece of paper and a curly lock of soft, red hair. In the dim light, it looked a little like blood. With a shaking hand, Buffy picked up the piece of paper and read the sparse words. She had to reread it three times before the words made sense.

In a daze, she turned and left the room. She walked down the stairs slowly, clutching the note tightly in her hand. She remembered the last time she felt like this. Over eleven years ago, when Glory stole Dawn, she felt these same feelings of helplessness and loss. She continued her way into the kitchen and sat down on the stool before her legs could give out.

"Buffy? Buffy, what's wrong?" Spike asked.

She dropped the note on the counter. Spike picked it up and scanned it. "Oh bloody hell," he muttered. "Do you know who this is from?"

"It's not signed," she said blankly.

"I know, but is there a new Big Bad in town? Anybody you've been fighting lately?"

"I don't know."

"Buffy, please. We won't find her if you can't help me."

"There's a vampire."

"Ok, who?"

"He's known as Corbett. We don't know for sure if he's in town, we've just heard rumors that he might be."

Spike frowned, "I've heard of him. Ok, is there anybody else."

"I don't know..I'd have to call Giles."

"Is he still around?" Spike asked. He assumed that the Watcher was either in England or dead.

"He's in Bath, but he helps me here when he can. I'll call him."

"How about Dawn and Xander?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "I don't know."

"You can call them tomorrow," Spike said.

"We should do something now."

"You call Giles, and then we'll go look for clues ok?"

"Right."

As she dialed the phone, Spike re-read the short note. Fear clutched him. He shouldn't have left the house. If he was here, nobody would have snuck into the house and stole his little girl.

"Giles? Did I wake you?" Pause. "Oh, right. Giles, I need your help. It's Joyce." Spike began gathering weapons. "Someone took her, we don't know who. We're going looking right now." He carefully avoided the cross in her weapons chest. "It could be Corbett, we don't know." Buffy paused for several minutes, and Spike set all the weapons down on the table. Stakes, a crossbow, and two axes. "Do you want us to meet you there? Dawn can pick you up. Oh no, it won't be a bother..well, if you're sure. Ok, see you then."

Buffy hung up the phone. "He should be here by late tonight."

"We'll find something tonight."

"Yeah," Buffy said, picking up the ax and carefully examining the blade. "Maybe ahead."

Spike read the note one more time before he slipped it into his pocket. He didn't need to though, the words were burned into his head.

I have the little witch. She may be dead by the time you find this note. She's cute though, maybe I'll keep her.

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