Chapter 26

The days since Buffy returned bled into week and then into months. Spike kept waiting for things to get better, but if anything, they got worse. He was extremely worried about the niblet, but he was ashamed to admit that he was scared of provoking Buffy’s wrath, so he never went to check on her.

But finally, after a particularly nasty night of fucking and beating, Spike had to make sure that she was only taking this anger and disgust out on him and not losing her temper with Dawn. He could handle her abuse, but Dawn could not.

He waited until he was sure she was out patrolling, and then made his way quickly and quietly to the house. He tried to go inside, but was not really surprised when he saw that she put the barrier back up, uninviting him from her house and her life. He went over to Dawn’s window and threw stones at it until she finally opened it.

“What’s going on?” Dawn asked.

“Nothing, bit, I just wanted to make sure that you are ok. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

Dawn didn’t ask why Spike had stopped coming around. She wasn’t a stupid girl, she new that it was Buffy’s fault. But she was still angry with him, and the world, because he couldn’t protect her and couldn’t stop Buffy.

“I’m ok, Spike.”

“Has she…?” Spike couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of Buffy actually hurting Dawn was so distasteful, so wrong, that the words didn’t want to leave his mouth. He was really beginning to hope that what came back was not Buffy. That Willow had fucked up the spell, and all they had to do was reverse it. That Buffy was still in heaven, her soul not dirtied by the awful black death that seemed to plague her.

“She’s been ok the past couple of days.” Dawn’s answer really didn’t reveal anything. “I mostly just stay out of her way.”

“Good plan, bit. Don’t worry, we’ll figure out a way to fix this.”

“Can it be fixed? I think they messed up big this time, Spike.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure out something. We always do.”

“You better go now,” Dawn said, “before she comes home.”

“Right. I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Spike promised, then turned to walk away and ran right into the Slayer.

“What are you doing here?” She asked coldly.

“Going for a walk.”

“You were talking to Dawn. I told you not to talk to Dawn anymore.”

“Slayer, I was….” Buffy cut him off with a hard right to the mouth.

“I don’t care what you’re doing. Just get out of here.”

“With pleasure.”

Buffy watched him go, holding herself back from chasing after him and hitting him again for disobeying her. Why couldn’t they just listen to her? Would it be so difficult to do what she asked for once?

She would worry about Spike after she took care of Dawn. Buffy decided she would pay him a little visit that…..

~*~

“…night,” Giles explained. “If we wait any longer, Joyce could be put in horrible danger, and the spell can only be performed on a few nights a month.”

“But I don’t even know what I’m doing,” Buffy protested. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You can do it,” Giles assured her. “We’ll serve as anchors.”

“So, where exactly am I going? Heaven?”

 

“No, not quite. If the spell works, both you and Willow will be called to the Netherworld. It’s a dimension that acts as an intermediary between Earth and the afterlife,” Giles explained.

“How would Willow know where Joyce is?” Dawn asked.

“She might have information we’re not privy to,” Giles answered. “I know it’s a long shot, but I really don’t know what else we can do if our suspicions are correct.”

“I’m a little scared,” Buffy confessed. “Remember what happened last time I came back?”

Giles smiled slightly, “Buffy, it won’t be like that at all.”

She took a deep breath, “Ok, when do we start?”

“As soon as it’s dark.”

Buffy nodded and then went in search of Spike. She wanted to tell him about the latest plan and get his opinion. She found him in the kitchen, idly scanning through the newspaper.

“Looking for anything in particular?” Buffy asked.

“Carnage, destruction, the usual.”

“Any mysterious deaths involving neck wounds?”

“None this morning. So that’s something.”

“I’m going to the Netherword,” Buffy said, casually popping a grape in her mouth.

Spike looked up from the newspaper. “Come again?”

“Giles said that the best thing we can do now is talk to Willow.”

“Did Giles explain the risks of that particular kind of magic?” Spike asked slowly.

“Um, no. He said you guys would be the anchors and I’d be safe.”

“Well, if Giles says so.”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I didn’t say that. We’ll do what we have to do.”

“Have you ever known anybody who tried this?” Buffy asked.

“Once.”

“What happened?”

 

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure they did it wrong.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Spike.”

“I’m doing my best to…

~*~

“…help!” Spike yelled back. “Jesus, what is wrong you? I’m tired of all your shit.”

“Nothing is wrong with me, Spike. I’m just tired of dealing with everybody’s demands and whining. I’m the Slayer, so I’m in charge.”

“And that means you need to hurt your little sister.”

“She should learn to keep her smart mouth shut,” Buffy explained coolly. “A lesson you need to learn to.”

Spike studied her face, looking for any signs of the girl he used to know. She wasn’t there. In her place was some sort of monster, and for the first time since he knew Buffy, fear curled in his belly.

“Slayer, listen…”

“I’m tired of listening.” Buffy took a step towards him. “I’m tired of listening to you, and I’m tired of you trying to help me. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you.”

“Then leave,” Spike invited. “Just go and don’t come back.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Slayer, if you hate me so much, then just fucking go. There’s no reason for you to stay around here.”

“I’ll decide when I leave, Spike.” She punched him in the stomach. “And I’m not nearly tired yet.”

At first, Spike was able to defend himself from her blows. He refrained from hitting back, and stayed on the defensive as much as possible. But the simple fact was that Buffy had always been stronger than him, and now her anger fueled her indiscriminate punches and jabs. She hit him everywhere, connecting with his solid flesh until bones smashed under her hands.

Blood flowed freely from his mouth, his nose, his ears, and even his eyes. There were open gashes on the back of his head where she slammed it into the cement walls of the crypt, and abrasions on his back from the hard floor. His vision blurred and he grew dizzy, making it nearly impossible for him to block her effectively, or even hit back. She kicked him in the knee, and he heard the bone shatter. Even as he fell to the ground at her feet, unable to support his own weight anymore, she didn’t stop.

While she pounded him, he stayed silent. He didn’t beg for her to stop, or try to reason with her. His lips were swollen and several of his teeth were loosened. But Buffy was silent. With her punches fell a thousand furious words, curses, shouts, and screams. Rage rained down on Spike from above, and there was nowhere to turn to escape it.

“You think that you can love me, and it’ll all be ok again? You think you can save me? You think you can help me? You think you can save Dawn? You can’t, Spike, because you are nothing but a disgusting, dirty, piece of shit. You’re just an animal who can talk and has enough sense not to piss down your own leg. Fuck you, Spike. Fuck you.”

She was crying now, but the tears looked red to Spike, through the veil of his own tears and blood. His body grew numb, and it was easy to take the physical abuse. But he would give anything to stop the words. They echoed in his brain and in his heart, and with each assault, a little piece of him died inside. The words battered him, and the more he heard, the more he believed them to be true.

“You are a sorry excuse for a…

~*~

“…vampire there Spike. You’re already dead,” Giles explained.

“So?”

“So, it wouldn’t work.”

“Well, maybe if I were a normal vampire, but I have a soul.”

“Spike, I appreciate that you want to help Buffy, but this is something she has to do.”

“Giles, I’ve seen this spell done before, and it wasn’t pretty.”

“I know it can be dangerous,” Giles responded, “but we know what we’re doing.”

“No, we don’t have a fucking clue what we’re doing. Red would know what she’s doing. But we do not.”

“I assure you that I know quite a bit about magic, and I…”

“That doesn’t cut it, Watcher,” Spike interrupted. “You need to have real power to do this spell, and all of us combined don’t have the power that’s needed.”

“We are going to have to take that chance—“

Spike slammed his fist down on the counter and pain reverberated up his arm, but he didn’t wince. “No, Watcher, we cannot take that chance with Buffy.”

“Do you have a better suggestion, Spike? Because honestly at this point, I’m open to anything.”

Spike took a deep breath. “No, I don’t. I don’t have shit, ok? I just don’t want Buffy to get…

~*~

“…hurt, Spike? Does it hurt when I do this?”

She had been working him over for so long that he could feel the bones she broke originally already knitting themselves back together. She didn’t even break a sweat. “Dirty and disgusting. I can’t believe I let you touch me. I can’t believe I let you fuck me.”

She pulled a stake out of her back pocket and poised it above his heart. “I can’t believe you thought that I could actually love a disgusting, soulless thing.” She began to lower the stake onto his…

~*~

…naked chest, and she couldn’t look away. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she quickly closed the bathroom door. Spike emerged seconds later.

“Don’t be, just cleaning up a bit before the fun begins.”

“Yeah, well, it’s beginning in a few moments.”

“Nervous?”

“A bit. But I’m excited too. I mean, it’s Willow.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Spike promised.

“I know.”

~*~

She missed his heart.

~*~

They formed a small group around Buffy, grasping hands tightly, as Giles began to chant. She closed her eyes and emptied her mind using the techniques Giles had taught her two lifetimes ago.

At first the words were distinct, but soon they blended and swirled around her, and eventually turned to a low drone of sound in the back of her mind. She opened her eyes then, and saw only darkness. Tentatively, she tried to move, but if she succeeded, she couldn’t tell.

The volume of the drone increased and light burst in front of her eyes. It was a sunrise, but the sun was the color of a blood clot. It blinded her at first, but her eyes adjusted and she strained them to see something, anything, but the only thing in that dismal world was her and the distant red ball of fire. But on the horizon, Buffy saw a woman’s silhouette moving towards her.

“Willow?” She yelled and moved towards the distant figure. As Buffy ran towards her, the woman continued to walk sedately and slowly. When Buffy finally caught up with her, she pulled her into a bear hug.

“Hello Buffy,” Willow said warmly, hugging her friend back tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Buffy whispered, tears clogging her throat.

“I’ve missed you too. But we don’t have a lot of time, Buffy. We need to talk. I know why you’re here. It’s about Joyce.”

Buffy nodded.

“There’s a balance, in the Universe Buffy. And those with the greatest sins have to pay the greatest price.”

“What? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do, Buffy.”

“But I apologized, you forgave,” she protested, “it’s over now.”

“For us, maybe,” Willow explained patiently, “But there are still people living with the scars you inflicted.”

“Do you mean…

~*~

…Spike lay on the ground, unable to move. Buffy was gone, but the stake still protruded from his chest, just below his heart. She missed, deliberately. A part of Spike wished that she had just ended it…for both of them. But no, she kept him alive so that tomorrow night and the night after and the night after that she could come back and do it all over again. She could continue to treat him like this because he wasn’t human enough for her. Not anymore.

He didn’t have a soul.

In Spike’s mind, that’s all he could remember. The beating faded away, but those words continued to haunt him as he lay in the pool of his own blood. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t Angel. He wasn’t worth her time or attention or love. 

He couldn’t save her. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t realize until now that he needed to save himself.

He would start by removing the stake from his chest. The action wore him out though, and he was forced for several minutes to rest before he could begin the long and slow process of dragging himself across the floor to the fridge. He needed to replace the blood he lost as soon as possible.

Despite it all, Spike was determined to fix…

~*~

“…it,” Willow encouraged.

“But Joyce doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistakes!” Buffy raged.

“She isn’t paying,” Willow soothed, “she’s fine. You are the one who is suffering, not her.”

“Who decided to take her away from me?” Buffy demanded.

Willow shrugged, “The Powers. She misses you, though.”

“How can I redeem myself?” Buffy asked. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You haven’t come to terms with what you’ve done to Spike. You loved him at the time, and you hurt him beyond words.”

“I still love him,” she said softly. “But Spike knows I’m sorry.”

“Does he?”

 

Before Buffy could answer, she was back to her own living room. Everybody crowded around her, staring, nervous, excited to hear what she learned.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. We were losing our connection with you and thought it would be best to bring you back while we still had enough power,” Giles explained.

“Yeah, ok. It’s ok.”

“Did you see Willow?”

Buffy looked up at her sister, “I did.”

“And?”

 

“And, I can’t talk about it right now. I just need some…

~*~

…time is what Spike needed. He knew he could find what he wanted; he just needed a bit of time. As soon as he healed up, he’d leave. And when he returned, he’d have what Buffy needed.

In Spike’s blood fogged brain, the answer to his problems was perfectly obvious. It would solve everything. He wasn’t equipped to help her, but he would be soon.

After he drank all the blood in his fridge, he made his way downstairs to the bed. It was a long and painful trip, but he couldn’t risk sleeping upstairs in his weakened state. He’d be too vulnerable to attack. From other demons.

Not from Buffy.

Never.

He could fix it though. Just needed to get himself a soul.

Chapter 27

Buffy didn’t sleep at all. She didn’t patrol. She didn’t leave her room. All she could do was sit up in her chair and stair out the window while thousands of horrible memories danced in front of her eyes in hues of scarlet and black. She had blocked these memories, or tried to at least, but they were never gone completely. She knew she did horrible things to Spike, but she never allowed herself to really think about exactly what she had done to him.

She broke him. He left because she broke him, with wild words and well aimed punches. Fuck. How could she fix him?

 

How do you apologize for pounding somebody to a pulp? How do you apologize for calling him degrading names, laughing at his pain, abusing him, and taking his love for granted? How do you even begin?

 

Buffy understood that she was the reason he wandered through the world as a zombie for ten years. She stole a decade from his life and her actions forced him to change on the most fundamental level possible.

How do you apologize for that? No wonder he hated her.

She hated herself.

The tears fell freely from her eyes, and she didn’t bother wiping her face. Her nose ran too, but she didn’t notice.

The knock on her door startled her out of her morose thoughts. She sniffed and wiped her face, doing her best to hide the evidence of her crying lag before she invited her visitor in.

“Do you know how to get her back?” Spike asked quietly as he shut the door behind him.

“Yeah.” Her voice was strained and quiet, as she did her best to keep the flood of tears from bursting through.

“Right then, who do we have to kill?”

“Nobody.”

“What do you we have to do?”

“I don’t know Spike. I mean, I know, but I don’t know how to do it.”

“Can I help?” Spike asked.

“Maybe. Well, yes, actually.”

“What do want me to do?”

“Why do you want to help me, Spike?”

Spike frowned, “What kind of question is that?”

“Just, why?”

“Because I want to get Joyce back. She’s a special girl.”

 

“You weren’t going to come back, were you?”

Spike sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His hair was long, hanging in his face, and Buffy thought that maybe she’d offer to cut it sometime. “Originally,” he said, finally. “I planned on coming back.”

“What happened?”

 

“There were several trials I had to perform to get my soul. Pretty standard feats of strength. It took a long time—so I long that I lost track. But halfway through, I realized that I didn’t really want the soul, and I didn’t want to come back. But by then it was too late to stop.”

“Is that why you were…”

“Crazy? Yeah. You are my last trial. It’s not finished yet. I don’t really know what the deal is.”

“Why were you going to get a soul?”

 

“Well, for you of course. I thought if I got a soul, I’d be able to help you.”

“Why?”

“Buffy, brains were coming out my ears when I made this decision. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”

That shamed her into silence.

“So, Buffy, what’s the deal?”

“It’s all my fault,” she muttered.

“What? Buffy, no, we’ve already covered this. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have…”

“No, Spike. It’s my fault. Willow said that I—the greater the sin, the greater the punishment.”

“What are you saying, Slayer?”

“I’m being punished, Spike. For what I did to everybody…to you.”

Spike blinked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does! Spike, you said it yourself that you had brains leaking out of your ears when you left. I can’t even begin to comprehend all the ways I hurt you. And that’s the thing, I haven’t.”

“So what? If you apologize to me, we’ll get Joyce back? Great, I accept your apology.”

Buffy sniffed, “I think we both know that’s not enough.”

“What would be enough, Buffy?”

“I don’t know. But Willow said that Joyce is safe, so I guess we have enough time to work it out.”

Spike picked up a book that was near him and flung it at the wall in anger. Then he looked for something heavier and glass to throw, but Buffy quickly stood to stop him. He turned to face her, his nostrils flaring with anger. “That’s not right, Buffy. You don’t deserve to go through this because of what happened. I’m not worth it.”

“Why do you think that? Why do you think that I should get away with beating and abusing you?”

 

“Because you were in a bad place and—“

Buffy’s voice rose above his, “That’s no excuse.”

“And you didn’t know better!”

“I knew it was wrong, Spike!” Buffy yelled back. “I knew it was wrong, the things I did, the way I acted. But I didn’t stop. You were the one who loved me the most, and you were the one I hurt the most.”

“But it doesn’t matter anymore, Slayer. It really doesn’t. I’m fine, you’re fine, everything is fine.” Spike looked up to ceiling as if you to yell at God, “Did you hear that? We’re all good down here, so you can give us the little girl back!”

“Spike, stop shouting, the rest don’t know.”

“What if isn’t about me at all, Slayer? What if you misunderstood? I mean, you didn’t exactly treat your friends and family right.”

“Spike, I’ve spent over nine years making amends for that. Sending Dawn to school, raising Joyce, apologizing to all of them on a regular basis; we’ve all made our peace. But making amends to you is just as important.”

Spike collapsed on the bed. “I wish you guys never found me. How the hell did I make it all the way to L.A.?” Spike held his head in his hands, “I always manage to mess up your life, one way or the other. You should have let Angel kill me, I’m sure he wanted to.”

“What are you talking about me Spike?”

“Whose fault is it you died? Mine. Who didn’t stop them from dragging you out of heaven? Me. And now I’m back, and you’ve lost your daughter. Why? Because of me.”

“No!” Buffy protested loudly, and then quieter, “No. Spike, none of that was your fault. None of it.” 

“Buffy, if I had been faster or stronger or a little bit smarter, you wouldn’t have died and none of this shit would have happened.”

“We can all take responsibility for what happened that night, Spike. You can’t blame yourself…”

“I can blame myself, because I know it’s my fault.”

“You’re so stubborn. Jesus Christ, what does it take?”

“Just admit that I’m right, then we start doing whatever it takes to get Joyce back.”

“You’re not right!” She punctuated this statement with a punch to the nose. They both froze as blood dripped from his face onto the carpet.

“Oh. God.”

“Buffy…”

She started waving her hand, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

“Slayer, don’t cry. Look, I’m fine.”

“I can’t…I don’t deserve to have her back, or your forgiveness. I don’t deserve any of it.” She moved quickly to the door, evading Spike’s reach. Tears were rolling down her face and her body was hitching in sobs. “I have to…

~*~

…go, Spike thought. Gotta go.

The problem was, Spike couldn’t move. He thought it would only take a day or so to get better, but he must have been more injured than he realized. Each day passed slowly in a haze of pain and hunger. He didn’t have any blood downstairs, and he needed that to get better.

He alternated between hoping Buffy would come back and dreading her return. She didn’t though. The stake wound in his chest was still dripping blood, and it didn’t look like it would close anytime soon. He wondered if vampires could get infections.

Even if he could walk, he couldn’t go out and buy blood. He was too weak; wouldn’t be able to defend himself if he ran into one of his many enemies. He’d be fine though. He had been through much worse and lived to tell the tale.

Of course then, he had Dru and dozens of minions to take care of him. Didn’t matter though, he could take care of himself.

He passed his long, painful convalesce by making plans. He decided that he would get to Africa the old-fashioned way, by steamer. It would be faster to fly, but much, much more difficult. He had heard of a Shaman there, someone who was supposed to have the ability to call souls out of the ether. He had investigated it a bit after Angelus got cursed at Darla’s request. She wanted to figure out how to get rid of the soul. Spike rolled his eyes, if they had only known.

If the Shaman was still in Africa, he’d be set. If not, he’d just have to get a bit creative. But either way he’d have to come back as quickly as possible. It would not be a good idea to leave everybody alone in Sunnydale for too long. They needed his help to stop the demons. And to stop Buffy.

At one point during the long period of pain and waiting, he finally lost too much blood and passed out. But there wasn’t even any release in his dreams, because they became agonizing replays of the night on the tower, and the night Buffy came back. Over and over and over, she fell right in front of him. Over and over he was forced to look at her battered and broken body, lying on the rubble, so close to him, yet so far. And there was no escape. He couldn’t force himself to wake up.

Finally the taste of sweet blood pulled him through his dream world, and when he opened his heavy eyelids, Dawn swam into focus.

“What are you doing here?” He mouthed. He didn’t have the energy to force sound past his lips, still swollen and bloody.

“I’m making sure you aren’t dead. Just drink this.”  She forced bagful after bagful of blood down his throat until he felt his strength returning. Finally he stopped her.

“Don’t say anything,” Dawn said. “Save what energy you have. I can’t come back. But I’m leaving this blood here by the bed for you.”

“How did you know?” Spike asked.

“Buffy.”

“She told you?”

“She didn’t have to. Take care, Spike.”

That was the last time he saw his lil bit in ten

~*~

…years? How could nothing change in ten years? Was she really that evil, that awful? Would she ever hit Joyce for talking back to her? How could she hit him again? How could she do that again?

 

The last time she hit him and ran, she was full of black tar. But now she didn’t have any feelings at all. Just an empty numbness that covered her entire body, making it difficult for her to even think. She would have to let him leave again, because he didn’t deserve this. Nobody deserved it.

Tears of frustration, guilt, disgust, and anger overwhelmed her and she sunk to the cold ground and leaned against a headstone. She thought she was better. She thought she had it all together, and at the first provocation she made him bleed again.

Bleed all over her mother’s carpet.

She wished she didn’t love him. If she didn’t love him, it wouldn’t be as painful. For either one of them.

Chapter 28

After Buffy ran out of the room, and the blood flow had ceased, Spike set to work on cleaning the red drops from the carpet. He knew from experience that you could avoid stains completely if you did it while the blood was still fresh.

He was torn. He wanted to follow Buffy and assure her that he was fine and everything was ok. But he knew that it might be best to leave her alone, to let her have some time to think. He was bothered by the way her face crumpled, the look of horror and sorrow in her eyes. She didn’t even hit him that hard.

Spike ran his fingers through his hair with frustration. He wanted to help Buffy do whatever she had to do, but he knew there were some things that he couldn’t do anything about. Whatever was going on, whatever lesson she was supposed to learn, whatever she had to do to get Joyce back, it was all on her.

When the carpet looked good as new, Spike leaned back on his heels and closed his eyes. He had to find her. He couldn’t let her do anything drastic, and for once, they would have a civil conversation. Even if it killed both of them. Which was more likely than not.

Spike went into the bathroom and watched his face, careful to remove all the signs of blood. His nose wasn’t even tender or bruised, so there wouldn’t be any signs of the violence. Buffy didn’t need that.

They were all waiting downstairs for him, eager to find out what was wrong with Buffy, and if he knew where Joyce was. He couldn’t answer their questions. “Look, I have to go find her.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Dawn asked.

“She’s just worried, Bit,” Spike answered as he pulled his duster on.

“She didn’t look worried when she ran down here,” Giles observed, “she looked devastated. Please, Spike, if you know something about Joyce’s whereabouts…”

“Joyce is fine,” Spike assured them as he opened the door. “They’re both fine. They’re going to be fine.”

“Are you trying to convince us or yourself, Spike?” Xander asked. “Because from where I’m standing, things to not look fine.”

Spike paused in the doorway. “You’ll have to ask Buffy when I bring her home.”

“When will you be…

~*~

…back, Giles read aloud, but you have to come back. Now. She’s killing herself, Rupert, and she’s going to take everybody down with her. She needs your help. She’s hurting Dawn.

Giles read and reread the letter, confronted with the fact that he had been doing his damnest to deny every since Buffy had come back.

She had changed. Beyond recognition, and maybe beyond repair. But he had no idea how bad it was, and if Spike’s short, scrawled note was to be believed, it would only get much, much worse. He had left because he honestly believed she needed to become an adult, be pushed out of the nest. But he understood that it was too soon. He had pushed her too hard.

Not trusting Spike’s authority on the matter, he attempted to contact Dawn. Every time he called though, Buffy answered and informed him coldly that Dawn was grounded, or indisposed. He tried to contact Xander, but he was not very forthcoming. He tried to minimize the damage, and carefully avoided stating outright that Buffy had done anything wrong or hurt anybody. But the third time Giles called, Xander admitted that both he and Anya had been on the wrong end of Buffy’s fist.

And it had only gotten worse after Spike left. According to Xander and Willow, that’s when she really lost control. Giles didn’t know if it was because she missed him, or because he wasn’t there any more to bare the brunt of the abuse. Either way, he had a moral responsibility to all of them to get back to Sunnydale.

So only a few weeks after he settled into his new apartment, he packed up and flew back to California. He armed himself with powerful magicks for protection and binding spells, knowing full well that if his Slayer was truly out of control, he wouldn’t be able to subdue her himself. And after his discussions with Xander and Willow, and his lack of discussion with Dawn, he knew this could very well be the case.

His first stop in Sunnydale was not the Summers’ residence. He didn’t want Buffy to know immediately that he was back. He needed to gather more information. The note he received, the fact that Spike was frightened of her, had sent shivers down his spine, and he needed to be fully prepared.

The children he found at the Magic Box were not the children he left behind. They all scurried around the shop, jumping, frightened. Xander sported a bruise on his left cheek, and Dawn’s hair was cut very short. Giles had never seen her wear such conservative clothes, and there wasn’t even a ghost of a smile around her eyes.

“What’s going on here?” Giles asked softly when nobody noticed him, and they all jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Does Buffy know you’re here?” Willow asked quickly.

“Not yet. Is Buffy here?”

“No,” Xander answered. “She’s running errands. She should be back in a few hours.” From the tone of his voice, Giles could tell this was not something the younger man was looking forward to.

“What’s going on?” Giles repeated.

“We messed up,” Willow admitted softly. “We did something wrong. She’s…she’s wrong.”

“Has she been hurting you?”

 

Everybody averted their eyes. They were cowed, and too ashamed to admit it, even if they did need his help.

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” he prompted gently, “or I can’t help.”

“Nobody can help,” Dawn said bitterly. “Spike tried, and look what happened to him.”

“What did happen to Spike?” Giles inquired.

Dawn met his eyes, her baby blues bleak and awash with tears she didn’t dare let fall. “She beat him within an inch of his life, and he ran away.”

“Don’t be overdramatic Dawn…” Xander started.

“There was a stake wound. In his chest. I saw it when I brought him blood. She missed the heart on purpose,” Dawn explained, dully.

Giles shifted, uncomfortable. “Does anybody know what’s driving her to these…extremes?”

“She wants control,” Anya stated. “She doesn’t have any control, so she’s using her super strength to control all of us. And even with Willow’s magic, there’s not much we can do about it.”

He could always count on Anya to lay it on the table. He smiled at her, thankfully. Ok, they had a starting point. “Willow, how much research have you done on the spell you used.”

“As much as I could,” she informed him, “I have a lot of notes.”

 

“I’ll need to look at those, to see if something failed. Maybe there really is a part of her missing.” Willow stiffened at the suggestion, clearly offended, but Giles didn’t have time to mollify her. “She may have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is something that can be treated, if she agrees to it.”

“That’s the thing,” Xander said, “how can we make her agree to getting treated.”

“We can’t,” Giles admitted, “Buffy is going to have to realize that she need….

~*~

…help. She needed help ten years ago, and she needed help now. The therapist that the Council had provided her worked wonders once she allowed her in, but she stopped going to therapy over a year ago. She stopped going when the therapist insisted that Buffy talk about Spike, claiming that after eight years, she had to face those demons.

But Buffy hadn’t been ready to talk about that aspect of her life. Even after all that time had passed, and now she regretted that decision. Maybe if she had, they wouldn’t all be in this mess.

“There you are,” Spike said softly, behind her. She spun around to face him, ready to tell him to go away, but once she saw him, all she wanted to do was throw herself in his arms. Couldn’t he make everything better?

 

“Yep, you found me.”

“You didn’t need to run away like that.”

“I can’t stand what I’ve become…”

 

“A strong, capable, loving woman and mother?”

“That’s not what I meant. I can’t…can’t control these things, Spike. Not as well as I’d like.”

Spike grabbed her hand and led her across the cemetery to a large crypt. He pulled her behind it, and forced her to sit down. “Bit of privacy back here,” he explained, sitting beside her.

“Not too many people roaming the graveyards after dark, Spike.”

“Buffy we need to have an honest conversation, or we’ll never get anywhere. You won’t get your daughter and I won’t get my soul anchored.”

“Right,” she agreed quickly. “I can do that.”

Spike arched his eyebrow, “Is that right?”

 

“I can have an honest conversation,” she said defensively. “Start talking.”

Spike sat in silence for several seconds, unsure of where to begin. Finally he asked, “What can’t you control?”

“Myself, Spike. I hit you when you make me angry, what happens when Joyce makes me mad? Am I going to haul off and pop her in the nose?”

“Have you ever wanted to?” Spike asked.

“No, never! But still…”

“Buffy,” Spike said gently, “You’re a good mum, and Joyce loves you very much. You would never hurt her, and in your heart, you know that.”

She nodded, but she still looked miserable. “How is your nose?”

“It’s fine. I heal fast.”

“And how long did it take you to heal from that stake wound?” Buffy asked. “How long did it take for your teeth to grow back?” She raised her voice with each question, until she nearly shouted, “How long did it take to drag yourself out of your crypt, broken and beaten, Spike?”

“A few weeks,” he answered mildly.

“Spike, I’m so sorry.” She took a deep breath, “I know this doesn’t justify what I did, but I was going though a very rough time. There were complications…with the magic that Willow used to bring me back. Also, my therapist thought that I was suffering Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and acting out.”

“What was wrong with the magic?” Spike asked quietly.

“Willow called forth the Warrior of the People. That’s only a part of who I am.”

“So what? The part that makes you Buffy wasn’t there? You’re soul?”

Buffy shook her head, “No, I had my soul and everything else. But I wasn’t balanced, or something. I never quite understood it. But the magic couldn’t fix me. I had to spend a lot of time in therapy.”

Spike raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Can’t imagine you in…”

~*~

“…therapy?” Buffy asked incredulously.

“Yes, therapy,” Giles repeated. “I think it could help you.”

“Help me with what?” Buffy demanded, “I don’t need therapy.”

“Buffy, you’re hurting your friends and your sister. Dawn told me you nearly beat Spike to death. Is that true?”

Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “I wouldn’t hurt them if they would just listen to me,” she muttered.

“Buffy, I’ll be honest. I am extremely worried about you.”

“Well, don’t be,” she said coldly. “I’m fine.”

“I’m worried about Dawn too.”

“She’s fine.”

“Buffy, what would Joyce say if she saw the way you treated Dawn and your friends?”

Buffy looked stricken, but only for a moment. “Don’t talk about my mother.”

“She would be disappointed in you, Buffy.”

“You know what? I don’t need to take this. I’m leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“What are you going to do? Tie me up? You can’t keep me here.”

Before Buffy could move again, Giles pulled the hypodermic needle out of his jacket pocket and stabbed her quickly in the arm. “I’m so sorry,” he muttered as he caught her slumping body.  “I just want to help…”

~*~

“…you,” Buffy admitted. “I stopped going when she asked me about our relationship. I wasn’t ready to talk about it, it hurt too much. I just felt so…raw.”

“Do you think that was a good idea?”

She laughed bitterly, “No. I was just being avoid-o girl again.”

“You could always go back,” he suggested.

She nodded, “It wasn’t a big deal when I quit because I felt great about myself and everything. I didn’t realize I needed more help.”

During the course of the conversation, Buffy moved closer to Spike until she was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand was on his knee, and he idly caressed it while she talked.

They continued speaking in low voices. Buffy allowed the floodgates to open, and before she knew it, she was pouring everything out. Spike listened attentively and responded occasionally as she explained the pain and confusion she went through, especially before he left. Her confession was mingled with tears and apologies, and he patiently waited for her to speak, never rushing or interrupting her.

And as Buffy talked, they both realized how comfortable they were with each other. Every since Spike had returned to her life, Buffy was uncertain of how to act and talk around him. Who knew that the truth would be the best option? And Spike had been confused by her uncertainty, but the more she explained, the better he understood.

When her story was finally finished, neither spoke for a very long time, both consumed with their own thoughts of the past and their possible future.

“Do you want me to do your hair?” Buffy asked suddenly.

“Yeah.”

Chapter 29

“Cut and bleach? Or just cut?”

“Whatever you want,” Spike answered.

“It’s your hair, Spike, you decide.”

He shrugged, “It’s not like I can see it.”

Buffy tilted her head and examined him, “I like your natural color. Why did you dye it?”

Spike smiled. “You know, I don’t even remember.”

“Because of Dru?” Buffy asked.

He shook his head, “No, she didn’t really care. I guess it doesn’t really matter if you dye it or not.”

“How short do you want it?”

Spike grimaced, “I hate these curls.”

“Really? I think they’re adorable.”

“They’re a bloody pain in the ass, is what they are.”

“I don’t like your hair plastered to your head.”

“Well, it’s hard to be the Big Bad if I look like a fluffy puppy.”

Buffy laughed, “Yeah, I guess so. How about a trim? It’s a good thing vampire hair doesn’t grow as fast as uh…human hair. It’d be down past your ass by now otherwise.”

It was Spike’s turn to laugh. “That’s quite the image, Slayer.”

She frowned and continued to study his head. “Ok, how am I going to do this?”

“You have cut hair before, right?”

“Oh! Of course! Once, I cut Xander’s.”

Spike blinked, “You once cut Xander’s? Is that all of your experience?”

“Of course not! When I was a kid, I had the Barbie with long hair. You know the one you could cut and it would grow…” She tapered off at his aghast look. “What?”

“All of a sudden, I’m thinking this isn’t such a good idea.” 

“Come on Spike, it’s not like you have a choice.”

“I can go to a barbershop or something. You know, with people who actually know how to cut hair.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “The lack of reflection might cause a slight problem for you. Now come on, you’re being a coward.”

“I’m not a coward just because I don’t want some mad woman attacking my head with scissors!” He said this with a smile though, and Buffy knew he was teasing.

“Stop being such a big baby. Now hold still. Don’t worry, it’s just a trim.”

Several minutes passed in silence as Buffy worked diligently, a look of intense concentration on her face. Spike longed to see his reflection as thousands of horrible images filled his head. Spike would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was terribly vain and the thought of an uneven haircut was almost enough to make him panic.

Drusilla used to cut his hair, and that was always an interestingly terrifying experience. He couldn’t deny her though, and when she asked for the scissors, he just braced himself and prayed to whoever watched over errant vampires that she would avoid stabbing him in the eye or cutting off his ear. The outcome of his hair was literally the least of his worries when Dru was armed with sharp weapons.

Spike was pulled from his reverie by Buffy’s small gasp and nearly silent “Uh oh.”

“What?” Spike demanded.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Buffy said, too lightly. “Nothing at all, everything is fine.”

“And somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sure we can figure out a way to cover it up.”

“Cover what up?”

Buffy avoided the question. “How fast can your hair grow?”

Spike rolled his eyes, and then bolted from the bathroom. “Dawn! Niblet!”

Dawn came running up the stairs. “What? What’s wrong? Hey, what happened to your hair?”

“Buffy happened,” Spike answered. “How’s it look?”

Dawn walked around him, hemming and hawing as she examined her sister’s handiwork. “Looks fine to me.”

“Really?” Spike asked skeptically.

“He doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Buffy said from behind him. “I was just joking a little.”

“Don’t joke about my hair.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “I’m surprised you let her get that close to you with scissors.”

“Me too,” Spike muttered.

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad,” Buffy protested.

Spike plucked the scissors from her hand, “Looks like you can use a hair cut too Slayer.”

She backed up, her eyes wide, “No my hair is fine, thank you.”

“You think so? It looks like you’ve got split ends to me.”

Buffy paused, “Really? Wait, you’re not tricking me.”  She ran down the hallway to her room, Spike hot on her heals, brandishing the scissors like a mad man.

“Come on Slayer, I know what I’m doing! You can trust me!”

She laughed, “Not with sharp tools I can’t.” She reached her room and slammed the door shut behind her, but Spike was only a step behind, and used his leg to block the door.

“Ow,” he howled, “that hurt!”

“Well then you shouldn’t chase me!” Buffy yelled over her shoulder as she moved towards the safety of the bathroom where she could lock the door.

But she didn’t move fast enough. Spike caught her arm and threw her on the bed. She laughed and struggled against him, both of them knowing that Spike didn’t really have the upper hand.  He pushed her on the bed and held her down with his body.

“Now hold still, Buffy, this won’t hurt a bit.”

She squirmed under him, her soft body grinding into his crotch, and his cock instantly responded. They both froze. There was no mistaking Spike’s reaction and then Buffy’s response. It occurred to Spike that the best thing he could do is stand up and calmly leave. He didn’t want to go down this road again.

Why not? A voice asked in the back of his head. He didn’t have an answer, though. It would be so very easy to kiss her like…this…

She instantly opened his mouth under his, and eagerly kissed him back. Spike knew that if he kept kissing her, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He was addicted to her taste and her scent, the soft feel of her lips, the curve of her thighs, the sweet sounds she made in the back of her throat, and he hadn’t had a fix in ten years.

He still loved her, and he was beginning to believe that she still…

~*~
…loves me, Spike thought desperately, she loves me and I’ll show her. I’ll take care of her. I’ll be worthy of her.

“Why are you here?” The demon demanded. He lurked in the shadows, and Spike strained to get a good look at him.

“For her,” Spike finally answered, for the fourth time. After each trial, the demon asked the same question, and Spike gave the same answer. But each time, the response was weaker. Now it seemed he was losing all conviction. The demon sensed it too.

“Very well. Now you must…”

“Wait, wait,” Spike interrupted, “There’s more?”

“Yes.” It pointed to the wall over Spike’s shoulder and he turned around.

“Well…fuck.”

~*~

The kiss deepened, and Spike shifted slightly so he could cup her breast with one hand, a thumb rubbing her nipple in a tight, circular motion. She moaned and ran her hand under his shirt, caressing his skin until the muscles jumped and quivered under her hand.

The passion and desire built between them until they could almost taste it, touch it. The air was heavy with the sounds and scent of their lust, and with each passing minute, they became more frantic.

They begin ripping and pawing at each other’s clothes; suddenly the most important thing was to feel flesh on flesh, flushed skin against skin. Spike was losing control, and he knew it. If he wanted to have a semblance of control, he would have to stop…

~*~

“…now?” The demon asked.

“For her,” Spike answered, but his voice was as hollow as the answer.

“Is she worth all of this, vampire?”

Spike nodded. But he no longer believed it. Somehow he was beginning to understand that this didn’t matter. That whatever problems she had, it didn’t have anything to do with him or his lack of soul. This was wrong, vampires weren’t supposed to have souls. He wasn’t giving up, but suddenly he doubted his reasons and motives, and himself.

“For her,” he repeated.

“Very well.”

Spike turned around to see his next trial, and rolled his eyes. Would this never end?

~*~

The clothes were in rags and tatters on the floor. The time to stop had passed. Neither one of the could stop if their lives depended on it. Spike could distantly hear the people downstairs, eating and resting, talking about what Buffy had told them about Joyce. Outside a car backfired, and a dog barked angrily. Spike registered every single sight and sound and stored it, to be called forth later when reliving this moment over and over.

Buffy’s body was slightly different than he remembered. Older, not quite so lean. She had gained a bit of way and was nicely rounded. Her breasts were fuller, her tummy softer. He knew that he would have to take time to explore every square inch of her, reacquaint himself with the delightful perfection that was Buffy Summers.

He still had reservations, but they didn’t matter. He needed to be inside of her again, apart of her again, and he needed it more than he ever needed anything before. By the look in Buffy’s eyes, it seemed clear that she needed him too.

“Now,” she gasped, “Need you…”

~*~

“…now?” The demon asked.

Spike raised his chin defiantly. “No, I do not give up now. I won’t. I came here for something, and I’ll be damned if I leave without it.”

“You’re already damned Vampire,” the demon commented. “Why are you doing this?”

“For her.”

“I don’t believe that and neither do you. Very well, you can have your soul, but you have one more trial.”

“What?” Spike asked, even as the demon placed its hand on his chest and a blinding hot light suffused his body, coming out of his mouth and eyes, and a scream tore from his chest and the blinding pain paralyzed his body and he dropped to his knees. Over the sound of the pain and the blood and the screams her heard the demons say one word:

“Her.”

~*~

Spike entered her before he could change his mind, and they both half moaned, half screamed in unison. All conscious thought fled both their minds as he moved within her. Buffy was unable to control herself, and with each thrust, she got louder. Moans, screams, shrieks of pleasure spilled out of her mouth into Spike’s ears. He couldn’t help but echo her.

They were both suffused in the white-hot light of passion, pleasure and gratification radiating through their bodies, and all Spike could think was Never again, never leaving her again, love her, love her, loveherlovelovelovelove. Buffy couldn’t think at all.

Finally, their world exploded and they were left grasping each other like a life-line. Spike came just a the shocking waves of pleasure rolled through Buffy’s body, making her scream his name until her voice was hoarse and there was no strength left in her body.

They collapsed, exhausted. Their muscles were watery, and neither could move. A huge smile spread across Buffy’s face. Oh, had she missed this. She wrapped her arms around him, loath to lose any contact with him at all.

“Love you so much,” she mumbled before drifting off to a contented sleep. “Love…

~*~

…you so much, Buffy wrote, alone and abandoned in a small room where she wouldn’t be a danger to herself or others. I’m so sorry Spike. So sorry. Please come home.

“What’s she doing?” Giles asked the doctor.

“She writes letter when she’s by herself,” she explained.

“Have you read them?”

 

“She shared a few at her last session.”

“And?” Giles asked.

The doctor shrugged, “And, she’s got a lot of issues to work through.”

Chapter 30

Spike idly traced patters on Buffy’s back as she slept, splayed out across him. She looked so soft and peaceful that he could easily watch her for hours. He kept thinking about all the things she had told him, all the things she had been through. He knew her well enough to know that she had been completely honest with him during her confession.

He could see from her relationship with Joyce that she had changed, and now Spike knew from her own words how she had changed. The long, hard personal struggle to become a better person. Not unlike his own trials.

And what had he been doing while she was struggling to come to terms with herself and her family? He had been mindlessly roaming the world, completely caught up in his own pain. It would be easy to blame that on her, if he wanted. But he didn’t want to. He made his own decisions; he could take the full responsibility for his actions.

Spike had no regrets.

As soon as he registered that thought he felt the soul…

~*~

…rip through him. Then he felt nothing. The world was black and empty, and suddenly all he could remember was the way she looked, the way her hair smelled, the way her body felt.

He had to get back to her. He didn’t know how or why, didn’t even know who he was or where he was. Already his mind was fading. He just had to find his way back to her.

“Help?” He choked out.

The demon standing above him was silent for several minutes. Finally he said, “If you truly love her, you will find her again. And when you find her again, your soul will be...

~*~

“..anchored,” he breathed. “It’s anchored. I’m done.”  And suddenly the snatches of memories that he had been glimpsing became full paintings of the past. He got his mind back. He got everything back. It felt so good, he felt so complete, that he wanted to get up and laugh and jump and fight and shag Buffy some more.

That was it. The regrets. He was afraid of loving her again, afraid he had been wrong all these years about what they meant to each other. Spike had been so cold to her since he’d been back…so aloof…could she understand why if he explained it to her?

“Buffy?” He said softly. “Buffy love, wake up.”

“What is it?” She muttered. “I have today off.”

“I know you do love, but I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“What’s up?” She asked groggily.

“My soul,” he said softly. “It’s my soul.”

She snapped up, wide awake. “It’s not gone is it?”

He chuckled, “No. No, Buffy, it’s permanent.”

“The final trial,” she breathed. “What happened?”

“I trusted myself, my feelings, and you, finally. Buffy, when I went to get the soul…I didn’t believe you loved me anymore, and I seriously questioned if I truly loved you. Then after I got the soul, I lost all my memories, and all I could remember was you. Buffy, I kept you at arms length because I thought I regretted every second I ever spent with you.”

“Spike, this isn’t…I mean…every second?!”

 

He smiled, “Every second. But that’s the thing Buffy. I don’t.” He kissed her soundly on the lips. He pulled back from her mouth and began kissing her facing and neck feverishly. “I treasure every second with you.”

“I’m glad, but why all of a sudden?”

“Because I can remember everything. Because you were honest with me. Because it’s not fair to keep blaming you. Because I love you.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh Spike, I’ve been waiting so long…” She clutched him, the tears falling quicker. “I am so sorry.”

“Shhh, pet, you don’t need to apologize anymore.”

“I’ll never be done apologizing. Thank you for forgiving me.”

He caught each tear with his lips. “Should have done it sooner, luv. I’m too stubborn. Never stopped loving you.”

“Don’t leave again.”

 

“I won’t,” he vowed.

“Spike, really I’m so—“

“Don’t say it again, Buffy. I know what happened, I understand. And I’m so proud of you for what you have accomplished, how far you’ve come. I’m sorry I couldn’t haven’t been here for you.”

She smiled, “Are we just going to lay here and apologize to each other all day.”

“I can think of better things to do…”

“Yeah?” She challenged. “Like what?”

Spike flipped them over and propped himself up on his elbow. “We skipped most of the fun stuff last night.” He nuzzled her neck. “We could make up for that.”

“Mmmm, I like fun stuff.”

“Could make you scream,” he purred. “I could make you moan. Or make you beg. What would you like?”

“Can I have all three?”

He nibbled on her earlobe. “If you ask really nicely.”

“I just did.”

“Mmmm, ask again.”

She smiled, “I guess this is the begging part of the fun.”

Spike moved farther down her body and lapped at her nipple. “It is.”

“Spike,” she gasped when he bit down gently on her soft skin. “Please make me moan.”

“What else?”

“Please make me scream.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Spike plunged two fingers into her wet and waiting body. “Like this?”

“Yes, yes,” she panted, “like that.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Spike…”

“Hmm?”

“Oh god, I can’t think!”

“Oh, well, I’ll stop.”

“No, no, no, don’t stop.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I’ll make you scream,” she promised. “I’ll make you moan.”

 

His tongue swirled around her nipples as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. “Oooh, Slayer, are you making promises you can’t keep.”

She shook her head wildly. If he stopped now, she’d kill him. “Can you tell me how?”

“Ohhh,” she moaned, finding it harder and harder to concentrate as he increased his pace. “Suck on you.”

“Sucking is good. Where?”

“Suck on your cock. Put it in my mouth. Lick you with my tongue, put it all the way down my throat.”

“Why Slayer! You little vixen.” He directly stimulated her g-spot and she quickly came, clutching her body around his hand, until the powerful muscle contractions ceased. She sighed with relief and pleasure and smiled at him.

“A girl can get used to that,” she murmured.

“Oh, you will.”

“You’re turn?”

He kissed her nose, “No. I’m gonna go get you breakfast.”

Sex was forgotten when she realized exactly how hungry she was. Her stomach growled loudly. “Yeah, that does sound like a good idea. Whatcha making me?”

“That’s a surprise.”

“I like surprises.”

He stood up and pulled on the remains of his clothes, than grimaced. “But first I’m going to put on some decent clothes. Except, I don’t have any decent clothes.”

Buffy frowned in response. “Oh right. With all the excitement, I’ve forgotten about it. But, uh, you could wear one of my robes,” she offered. “Or, Xander may still be downstairs. Perhaps he can go pick something up for you? I’ll go ask him.”

“You don’t have to get out of bed Buffy. You look…” He paused for effect. “Delicious where you are.”

She blushed slightly. “It won’t kill me to get up.” She moved to do just that, but Spike pounced on her.

“And I like you in bed.”

Buffy reached around and found the ticklish spot just above his hips. “And I wanna get up.”

Spike lips twitched with laughter. “Stop.”

“Make me.”

His voice was barely controlled, “If you don’t stop, I’ll…”

“Yes?” She asked, fluttering her lashes.

“I’ll take your…” But the threat was lost as Spike was finally forced to give into the giggles.

“Gonna let me up?”

He nodded helplessly, and she finally released him. “Bitch, that was cheating.”

“Awww, poor Spikey. Can’t take a little tickling?”

“I’ll show you…” But Buffy had already grabbed her robe and bolted out the door.

Spike smiled and lay back on the bed, and began idly rubbing his hard member. He shouldn’t have let Buffy go. Now he was all excited and she was downstairs, instead of in bed where she belonged, with her hot mouth wrapped around his aching dick. He sighed at the thought. This would never do. Maybe if he yelled real loud, she would come up running, to check on him. Or maybe Dawn would come up to check on him, and that wouldn’t do.

He gave up and willed himself to relax. He was almost asleep again when he heard Buffy call out for him. “Spike? Spike!”

“I’m coming!” He yelled, pulling on his tattered clothes, ignoring the fact that they didn’t really cover much.

He barreled down the stairs, and came to a complete stop at the bottom, eyes wide, mouth open. “Ohh,” he breathed.

Willow was standing in front of the door, holding Joyce, and beaming. “Hi Spike. Nice clothes.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed without thinking. He could see Buffy itched to take the girl from her mother, but instead she hovered nearby, tears silently streaming down her face.

“Spike!” Joyce said happily and reached for him.

“She’s ok?” Buffy asked.

“She’s just fine,” Willow answered. “I’m sorry we had to do this Buffy, but…”

“I understand,” she said softly. “Can I hold her now?”

Willow gave her daughter one last squeeze and a kiss on her cheek. “I love you Joyce.”

“I love you too Mommy.”

Buffy took the little girl in her arms with a half-sob of relief. “Oh, baby, I was so scared. I missed you so much.”

“I was fine,” the girl promised solemnly. “I was with mommy.”

Buffy hugged Joyce until the little girl grew impatient with the coddling and began to squirm in her arms. When Buffy set her down, she immediately ran to Spike who was still staring at Joyce and Willow in shock. He scooped up the little girl when she launched herself into his arms.

“You’ve cut you’re hair,” she observed.

“I have.”

She pouted, “I wanted to do it.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Wills?”

“I have to go now Buffy, but you know we’re never far. Take care of her.”

“We will,” Spike promised.

And then she was gone, leaving Buffy, Spike, and Joyce in the hallway, suddenly hesitant.