Chapter Eighteen: Slayer to Watcher

Breaking the news to the rest of the Scoobies went fairly well. Everyone was so numb already that it barely made a blip on the radar. It was yet just another piece in the great puzzle that was life in Sunnydale.

There was still no word on why Spike had come back from the dead - the undead - however. They were still working on it.

Desperate for a moment to herself, Dawn snuck away from the group research session going on in the living room, and made her way upstairs. The hall was dark and quiet. She wanted to go to her room, put on some music, and lose herself in the moment, but she couldn't. Something else got her attention.

The door to Buffy's room was open, which seemed odd. Dawn knew Spike had gone up hours ago to be alone. She wondered if perhaps he had snuck away himself, and ran off into the approaching dark.

Reaching the door with great stealth, she peaked inside. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, when she saw Spike standing in front of the window. It was dark, but his silhouette was unmistakable. He was staring out into the twilight, oblivious to her presence.

Dawn decide to break the ice. "So is it just being a Watcher that you hate, or is it personal?"

Spike jumped, visually startled. He turned slowly to look at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't really know," she said honestly. She flipped the light switch on the wall and closed the door halfway behind her, as she entered the room.

Spike flinched as the lights came on. Then he turned back toward the window. "Why don't you go then?"

"I don't know." She moved over to Buffy's bed and sat down on the end, nervously swinging her legs. "So is it personal?"

"What?" He turned in surprise.

"Is it because it's me? Is that why you don't want to be my Watcher?"

"Dawn," he searched her eyes with vague disbelief, "it has nothing to do with you. I am not a Watcher. That's just the way it is."

"Oh really? 'Cause Giles says you are."

"I don't give a bloody . . . I don't care what Giles says. It isn't true and it isn't going to happen!"

She disregarded his rant. "Do you think that's why you were brought back?"

"No. Of course not," he protested vehemently. "Because I am not, I repeat, not your Watcher." He crossed his arms over his chest angrily and turned back toward the window.

"You're not the only one who's been chosen, you know?" she said, her voice oddly quiet. "It's not easy for me either."

Spike turned to look at her again. She looked so helpless, so pathetically sweet and helpless. He really was a selfish bastard, wasn’t he? He obviously wasn’t the only one having a difficult time with this.

Spike crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside her, leaving enough room between them to fit two people. He watched warily, uncertain of what to do. Helplessly at a loss, he raised his left hand and patted her shoulder reassuringly. At least, he hoped it was reassuringly.

Dawn turned her head and offered him a small smile.

He dropped his hand to his lap. "It's not that bad really. Big sis has been doing it for years. You'll be okay."

"Without a Watcher?"

"You've got Giles."

"No, I don't. Spike look," she said, turning her body toward him, "I know this is probably the worst news you could have ever gotten, but it's not the end of the world."

"Right." He pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the dresser, absently fiddling with the mess Buffy had left there.

The idea that he was Dawn's Watcher was ludicrous to him. Beyond the realm of possibility. And yet, Giles seemed to think he had proof. Spike hated the idea. Poncey Watchers, with their suits and ties and their snooty, holier-than-thou attitudes! Spike had thought he'd left that life far behind him, the night he had died, the night he had been turned. Now he was being asked to become another bloody Giles! Bollocks! He wouldn't do it. Not even for Dawn.

"I wish I were dead," he mumbled to himself.

"I know." She shook her head in slight irritation. Dawn got up and crossed over to him, stopping a few feet away. "Spike, you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. I can't really believe I'm saying this - after everything that's happened, after the way things have been between us this past year - but you deserve this. You deserve your humanity, and you deserve to be with Buffy and have a normal life. I know you see it as a curse, but come on, do you know how many people would kill to be so blessed? Man and demon alike?"

"Right."

"It's true. Don't you see it? Buffy needs you Spike. You're everything to her. And now, now finally, you can give her everything she's always wanted. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Spike turned his bowed head to the side and stared at her with narrowed eyes. "And how exactly can I do that?"

"Oh please! Don't tell me you haven't thought about it? A normal life? Marriage? Children? The whole thing. Everything Buffy's always wanted, but thought she could never have because she's the Slayer. Angel could never give her those things. Riley wanted to, but Buffy needed something more than just All-American GI Joe by her side. She needs you Spike. You're the only one who can give Buffy what she truly needs. With you, she can be the Slayer and a normal girl, all at the same time. There's still enough demon in there somewhere to satisfy her. To protect her. And to make you her equal in battle. So, you don't have superhuman strength anymore. So what? You've got a hundred and twenty-three years of experience as a warrior behind you. And if you think that counts for nothing, you're crazy."

Spike turned away and let her little speech tumble through his brain. She was right, of course. Damn know-it-all Bitty Buffy. He had spent so much time lately feeling sorry for himself, selfishly worrying about his own place in the world, he hadn't even taken the time to think about what this really meant for Buffy.

Marriage? Children? An involuntary shudder coursed through Spike at the thought. What would their children be like? Superhuman beings with a penchant for bloodlust? No. They'd be more than that. Better than that. Anything that was a part of Buffy would be worth having in this world. Could he really give her children? Would she really want that? The thought astounded him.

"Hasn't it even occurred to you what all of this means?" Dawn added, taking a determined step closer. "You do realize that now, Buffy isn't going to grow old without you? You'll grow old together. You won't have to sit back and watch her die, leave you behind. Is that what you really wanted? Because that's what was waiting for you as a vampire. That's the great gift you had to look forward to." Her voice softened a little. "Now, you can give Buffy a gift. The greatest gift of her life Spike. You just have to stop being so selfish."

Spike raised his eyes and gave her a sidelong glance. Damn it, she was right. Again! Was she ever going to let up?

"So, are you through feeling sorry for yourself?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a determined look.

"Do I have much choice?" he asked, eyeing her again.

"Not really, no."

Spike shook his head and cursed under his breath, "Damn, bloody Slayers."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said, picking up his head and turning toward her. "So, do we go tell Buffy that everything's just hearts and flowers now?" He turned toward the door.

"Spike."

Her voice stopped him. He turned to face her.

"Look," she said, "I know you hate this, but it just goes with the territory. If you're going to stay with Buffy anyway, you might as well act as Watcher. I mean really, it's either that, or let Giles come live with us permanently." She smiled.

He gave her a dark look.

"Didn't think so. So? Watcher?" she asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

Spike scowled. Why did she have to look so hopeful? Why did she have to look at him like that, with those huge brown eyes? She wanted him to be her Watcher. She trusted him and needed him. How could he refuse her? His lil' bit.

Spike sighed. What choice did he really have, anyway? If he was going to stay with Buffy - and apparently he was - then what possible excuse could he have for getting out of it? He didn't have to become neo-Giles. He wouldn't become neo-Giles. With the Council gone, he'd get to make his own rules. Change everything it meant to be a Watcher. Screw the bloody Council!

"Watcher," Spike mumbled, barely audibly.

"What was that?"

"I said 'Watcher,'" he answered, his words unmistakable this time. "I will be your soddin' Watcher, all right." He took a determined step closer to her. "But if you give me any hell like your sister gave dear old Uncle Rupert, I will take you over my knee and show you just what my ordinary human strength can do. You got that?"

"Yeah Spike," she said smiling. "I got that." She raised up on her toes and kissed him quickly on the cheek. A second later she was standing in the doorway on her way out into the hall. "See you downstairs," she said, as she turned and left the room.

Chapter Nineteen: Patrolling

Five minutes later, Spike came down the stairs into the living room, duster on, a stake in his left hand. "So, you ready to go?" he asked Buffy.

She looked up at him from her seat on the couch. "Go where?"

"Patrolling," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh. Sure. Okay." Buffy moved the pile of books off her lap and got up. "You guys be okay without me?" she asked, turning toward the group.

"Oh sure," Xander said. "So we've got one less pair of eyes to get numbly glazed over. We'll be fine. You crazy kids go out and have fun."

Spike scowled at him.

Buffy grabbed her coat and headed toward the door.

Less than fifteen minutes later, they were walking through one of the many cemeteries of Sunnydale, waiting for some action.

"So?" Buffy said. "Why patrolling? Why now?"

"Just thought you could use the exercise, that's all," he said absently.

"Uh huh?"

They walked a little more in silence. Then Buffy sensed something lurking behind a nearby tree.

Before she had a chance to sneak up on it, the vamp bolted and Buffy rushed after it. With lightning fast speed, she closed the distance and dusted the vamp, staking it right through the back. "Not quite the challenge I was looking for," she said, as she took a second to wipe the dust from her clothes. "Oh well, I'm sure there'll be others."

"You got that right."

Buffy turned toward Spike to see him surrounded by a semi-circle of seven vamps.

"Oh just great," she said. "There's been no action for like what? Two weeks now? And suddenly tonight it's open season on Buffy? How terribly original."

Now that she had seen them, the vamps split up, four of them making for Buffy, three making for Spike. A small shock of terror coursed through Buffy as she realized that three vamps might be more than human Spike could handle. He had always been a great warrior, but now he was vulnerable. He didn't have the strength of a supernatural being anymore, and he could be killed just like any other human. More than anything, Buffy wanted to protect him. But she couldn't. She was facing her own wave of bloodsucking fiends, and she had to defeat them first.

Driven by instinct, she struck out at the closest vamp, kicking him in the stomach and sending him flying. The next one came rushing at her from behind. Buffy swiftly turned around and delivered a debilitating blow to his face. Then, before he could recover, she drew back her stake and drove it through his heart. The other two vamps came at her in unison, and she simultaneously engaged them both in hand to hand combat.

Spike was a little shaky on his feet. Somehow, knowing that he was human was weighing him down, zapping his confidence. He took in a long, hard breath and steadied himself. He was a fighter and, human or not, he was going to win.

With a guttural roar, he threw himself at the first vamp. So, he didn't have strength? He still had his cunning.

With practiced agility, he took a swing at the demon. The punch landed solidly in the vamp's face, but it barely phased him. Determined not to be discouraged, Spike pounded him again, this time delivering a series of rhythmic blows that threw the vamp off balance. As the vamp stumbled backwards, Spike lifted up his stake and drove it soundly through the bloodsucker's heart.

The vamp fell to the ground and exploded into a cloud of dust.

Spike stood there, admiring his own handiwork. He shrugged confidently. Apparently, he hadn't lost it. "That'll teach you to mess with human . . ."

He didn’t get to finish. Before he knew what hit him, one of the other vamps came up behind him and kicked him in the back. Spike instantly hit the ground in front of him, coming to rest on his hands and knees. "Oh great, now everyone wants in on the action."

Pushing himself up, he tried to stand, but was stopped, as the other vamp delivered a kick to his face. It sent Spike flying across the graveyard, his flight finally halted by a nearby tree. He hit the ground hard, stunned but still conscious.

"All right," he said, pushing himself up, forcing his mind to stay focused. "That's enough. There's only one person who gets to play 'Kick the Spike,' and it's not either one of you." He steadied himself up against the trunk of the tree and tightened his grip on the stake. Xander had been fighting by Buffy's side for years. If the pathetic Whelp could do it, so could he.

The two vamps were closing in on him. Relying on willpower and adrenaline, he rushed at one, offering a quick sidesweeping kick to the other as he ran past, catching the vamp off guard and knocking him to the ground. Momentarily distracted, the fist vamp didn't see the stake until it was too late. It was already halfway through his unbeating heart by the time he noticed it. Spike withdrew the stake and the vamp instantly disappeared in a mist of ashes.

"Spike!"

Spike heard Buffy's voice. Instantly, he swung around and found the other vamp, fully recovered, coming at him. But it was too late. Catching Spike off guard, the vampire sucker punched him, knocking him off his feet.

Spike saw Buffy stealthily approaching his assailant. The monster quickly turned around and attacked her.

"Buffy!" he screamed.

Knowing that she was wholly capable of destroying the vamp, but still terrified for her, Spike forced himself off the ground and made for her attacker.

Buffy was fighting admirably, delivering blow after blow, kick after kick. When she saw Spike approach, she swung the vamp around and offered him to Spike.

A sly smile pulling at his lips, Spike drove into the last remaining demon with his fists. It felt good to be in control. To know that they were safe and still get to satisfy some of the bloodlust. This is what he had been missing. This is what he needed.

Working the vamp over, Spike reveled in the sensation of his own blood coursing through his veins. The sweet rush of adrenaline clouding his senses and making him feel invincible. Maybe he wasn't so weak and feeble after all.

After one more good punch, he pulled back the stake and finished the vamp off. He stood there watching the dust clear, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"You know, you didn’t have to beat him senseless," Buffy said. "Talk about your gratuitous violence."

"What do you care?" Spike asked, looking up at her. "He was an evil, bloodsucking fiend. I was just doing my job."

"I know," she said with a smile. Buffy came up beside him and wrapped her arm around his. They began walking toward the entrance of the cemetery. "So, you going to tell me who it is who gets to play 'Kick the Spike?'"

Spike snickered. "As if you didn't know."

Buffy stopped and turned to look at him. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, his eyes watching her curiously.

"For tonight. For fighting by my side. For believing in yourself. It means everything to me Spike. Really it does."

He rolled his eyes at her and continued walking, taking her with him. "No need to get sappy and sentimental on me Slayer. I did what I had to do. That's all."

"Right. What you had to do."

"Yeah?" He offered her a sidelong glance.

"Whatever you say Spike. Whatever you say."

Chapter Twenty: The Angel Factor

A little while later, Buffy and Spike entered the kitchen at 1630 Revello Drive. They were still arguing over the vamp fight.

"I still think that was a bit much," she said, shrugging out of her jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.

"Right. So you would rather I had let him off easy. A quick stake to the heart? No bloodshed, no retribution." He sat down at the table.

"Retribution for what? Interrupting a peaceful stroll through the cemetery?"

"Being a vamp? Killing dozens and dozens of people?"

"Oh, I doubt that guy killed dozens and dozens," she said, going to the cabinet and taking out a box of hot cocoa mix. "Didn't seem like he'd been above ground very long."

"Oh thanks. Steal my thunder, why don't you? Oh, he was just a fledgling, so of course Spike could kill him," he mocked.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Buffy crossed over to the table and put out two mugs. "Why don't you go see if Dawn wants some hot chocolate? After all, you are her Watcher. She's as much your responsibility as mine now."

Spike grumbled as he pushed himself up from the table. As much as he liked to complain, there was a part of him that was thankful for the fact. Now he was just as connected to Dawn as he was to Buffy. They were family now. All of them. Whether he was married to Buffy or not, it was official. He was a part of their lives for good now, and he was more than a little warmed by the thought.

Making his way into the living room, he heard the lilting tone of Dawn's voice.

"He's not taking it all that well, but you know? In time."

"I can just see it," a familiar voice laughed. "Spike dressed in tweed, a thick volume of text in his hands, pontificating on the importance of knowing your opponent and not getting yourself vamped. Boy those Powers do have a sense of humor."

Angel!

Spike felt the blood begin to boil in his veins. "And what would you know about it?" he asked, stepping into view.

Angel got up from his seat on the coffee table. "Well, there you are. Heard you'd gone out on patrol. I wasn't sure if we'd be seeing you back in one piece tonight."

"I'm bloody fine."

"I'll bet."

"Spike, you'll never believe what's happened. Angel--"

"Now wait," Angel said, cutting her off. "I think we should wait until Buffy's here to break the news. Where is she?" he asked, his voice hard and accusing.

"In the kitchen," Spike said, his eyes locked with Angel's.

"Buffy!" Dawn called.

A moment later, Buffy came in from the kitchen. She had a dishtowel in her hands, and was wiping them dry. "What is it Dawnie?"

Before Dawn could even answer, Buffy lifted her eyes and caught sight of Angel standing across the room. "Angel."

"Buffy." He broke away from his Mexican standoff with Spike and looked down at her.

"What . . . what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" He crossed over to her and took her by the arm, leading her away from Spike.

Spike growled, but made no move to stop him.

"Buffy, didn't I tell you to call me if anything unusual happened?"

"Well . . ." she thought for a minute, "yes."

"And?! Don't you think Spike coming back from the dead is something unusual?"

"Well, I don't know really. This is Sunnydale. People come back from the dead all the time."

"Buffy," he scolded harshly.

"Look Angel. I'm sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about it. It's been a long couple of weeks. I would have called you eventually," she offered weakly.

"I'll bet," he said. "So, was I going to get a wedding invitation, or were you just going to call me once your kids had set off for college?"

"That's not funny," she said, pulling her arm out his grip.

"Buffy, we need to talk."

"Then talk."

Angel glanced about the room, eyeing Dawn, then Spike. "I think this is best done privately."

Buffy looked at Spike. He didn't seem happy, but he didn't say anything. "All right." She went to lead Angel into the kitchen.

Dawn stopped them. "Aren't you at least going to tell them first?"

"What?" Angel asked.

Dawn widened her eyes at him. "You know . . . about the thing? The Oracles?"

"What about the Oracles?" Buffy asked, turning on Angel.

"Oh, yeah, that." He laughed nervously. "I went to see the Oracles. I know, I know, we all thought they were dead. But hey? Turns out they weren't. Anyway, I went to see them, to ask for Spike's life back."

"What?!" Buffy asked, dumbfounded.

"Bloody hell," Spike cursed.

"You? You asked for Spike's life? Why?"

"Because," Angel grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her closer to him, "we needed you. It was the only way to get you back. Willow said she couldn't go inside your head and save you. I didn't think we had much choice."

Buffy searched his eyes curiously. She couldn't quite believe it. "You . . . asked for Spike's life back?"

"Yes."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Spike grumbled.

"Now, Buffy. I need to talk to you." Angel tried to pull her toward the kitchen.

She held back. "Wait. I don't quite understand. Why did you ask for him to be human?"

"I didn't."

"Then how . . .?"

Angel sighed heavily. "The Oracles asked me what I wanted. Whether I thought Spike should come back as a vampire or a man. I didn't choose either one. I told them that I just wanted what was best for you."

Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Overwhelmed with a new appreciation for Angel, she lifted up on her toes and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered softly in his ear.

"No," he said, "don't thank me. I'm still not sure I did the right thing."

As she stared up at Angel, tears beginning to well behind her eyes, Buffy heard the basement door slam shut. Oh great! Not again. In his final days as a vampire, that had been Spike's answer to everything. Run to the basement. He was doing it again.

She pulled away from Angel and moved to head toward the kitchen.

Angel stopped her. "Let me," he said.

"I really think I should--"

"Buffy," he said sternly. "We've got some unfinished business. Let me talk to him."

Uncertainly, Buffy stepped out of Angel's way, clearing his path to the kitchen. Any confrontation between Angel and Spike could not end well, but they were grown men - well, sort of anyway - and she had no right to stand in their way.

"Thanks," Angel said. "I won't be long."

Chapter Twenty-one: Man vs. Beast

Spike was walking the basement floor frantically, an unlit cigarette in his hand. Brilliant! Just bloody brilliant! Angel comes in and saves the day.

Spike was just getting used to the idea of being human, of being with Buffy for real, and then Angel has to come along and ruin it, take credit for the whole, soddin' thing. Self-righteous poofter! Damn him.

Spike threw the cigarette to the ground in frustration and ground it into the cement with his boot. Things were just getting better and better.

"I thought you would have given that up," Angel said, as he made his way down the stairs. "It's a nasty habit."

Spike picked his eyes up from the floor and glowered at Angel. "What . . . the hell . . . do you want?" he said slowly.

"Oh, I don't know." Angel shrugged. "Peace on earth. An end to famine and disease. A nice house in the Valley maybe? Oh, and your gruesome, horrible death."

"Come again?" Spike asked. "You just saved my bleedin' life."

"I know." Angel crossed the floor with determination. "I'm not really sure that was such a good idea."

"So what? You gonna kill me now? Murder a defenseless human?"

"You're not defenseless." Angel pulled a stake out of the lining of his jacket and threw it to Spike.

Instinctually, Spike caught it. "You've got to be kidding."

"Nope." Angel shook his head slowly. "You see Spike, I know you're human and all. I know you think you've been given a second chance. But you don't deserve one. Not until you've paid for the mistakes you made the first time around."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Angel said, moving forward and closing the distance between them, "that you get to pay for what you've done to Buffy."

Spike narrowed his eyes and stared at Angel searchingly. What was he on about? "What I've done to Buffy?"

"Do I need to refresh your memory Spike?" Angel hissed in his ear.

"Well, yeah mate," he said, backing away slightly. "I'm afraid you'll have to. Don't quite know what you're talking about."

"Oh really?" Angel took a few steps back and began walking the floor as he spoke. "I don't know how long ago it happened. The vision didn't specify. Sometime after you slept with Anya."

"What?"

"Oh?" Angel stopped to look at him. "Don't remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure really. But time wise, it gives us a point of reference."

"For what?"

"For the night you tried to rape Buffy."

Spike felt all the blood seep from his veins. He suddenly felt cold and lightheaded. "How did you know about that?"

Angel laughed. "The Oracles of course. Just couldn't resist telling me. Well, showing me actually. You see Spike," he said, coming up to him again, "I saw it all. Every last second of it. And maybe Buffy was able to forgive and forget, but I'm not. I can see it like it was yesterday. I don't care how much time has past, or how much redemption you think you've earned. What you did was unforgivable, and it's time someone made you pay."

Angel pulled back his fist and pounded it into Spike. Spike instantly flew back against the wall and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Oh come on now. You can do better than that. Get up and show me some of that fight. If you could show it to Buffy, why can't you show it to me?"

Spike growled and pushed himself up from the floor, pouncing on Angel in a swift, predatory move. They both landed on the floor. Spike was on top, and was able to land a few good punches before Angel shoved him off.

"Not so easy when you're not fighting little girls, is it?" Angel asked, as he stood up and took a determined step toward Spike.

"That was over a bloody year ago. A lot's changed."

"Not that much," Angel said, leaning down and grabbing Spike by the shirt. He dragged him to his feet. "It'll never be enough." He punched Spike with his free hand, over and over again.

Spike tried to break from his grasp, but couldn't.

Finally, Angel shoved Spike away from him. He opened up his arms offering Spike free access to his chest. "So, come on Spike. Let me have it. Come at me. Give me a reason to kill you."

Spike watched him cautiously. He didn’t trust Angel. As much as he was supposed to be one of the good guys, there was no doubt in Spike's mind that Angel seriously meant to kill him, if given half a chance. Despite the rage burning in his own veins, he couldn't take the bait.

Spike dropped the stake. "I can't do it, and you know it."

"Why?" Angel mocked. "Because Buffy wouldn't like it?"

"Because I can't."

"Oh right. Because you're a defenseless, pathetic human. I'm not buying it Spike." Angel bent down and picked up the stake, throwing it back to his adversary. "Now fight."

Spike looked down at the stake in his hands and contemplated his choices. As much as he hated Angel, Angel had every right to want to kill him. If Angel had ever hurt Buffy like that, Spike would have wanted to rip out his heart and tear it into little pieces. Giving Angel his chance was only fair.

Wrapping his fist tightly around the stake, Spike took a step forward and slugged Angel. Then the fighting really began in earnest.

* * *

Upstairs, Buffy and Dawn were listening to the commotion coming from the basement.

"I have to go down there," Buffy said, as she made for the door.

"No you don't." Dawn moved in front of her, blocking the way with her body.

"Out of my way Dawn."

"No."

"Angel's going to kill him."

"Buffy, you can't go down there. You can't save Spike. This is something he has to do on his own. How do you think he's going to feel if you have to come in and win every battle for him? This is Angel he's fighting. They have a history together. Swooping down now and playing the big, shining hero, is the worst thing you could do. We're just going to have to ride this out."

Buffy eyed her sister with worry. Dawn was right, but somehow that didn't make things any easier.

* * *

"Did you really think I'd let you win?" Angel asked, as he threw Spike down on the table and hovered over him threateningly, lumpies in full force. "I could rip your throat out right now."

Spike tried to push Angel off of him, but couldn’t. Angel bared his fangs and went for Spike's neck. Spike steeled his nerves and kneed Angel in the groin.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Angel cursed as he pulled back in pain and surprise.

Spike scrambled from the table and came to stand on the edge of the room. He watched Angel warily.

"So, you still have some guts, do you? Always were an insufferable upstart. I'm glad I'm going to be the one who gets to put you down for good."

Angel took a few cagey steps toward Spike, who was already beginning to feel the strains of the battle. His muscles were aching, and he could swear a couple of his ribs were broken. If he did survive this, it would take him an eternity to recover. Angel looked like he hadn't been in a fight at all. There was nary a scratch on him.

"What?" Spike asked, swiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Haven't had enough mate?"

"No. Not quite. I won't be happy until I see you really suffer." Angel moved forward slowly and took position in front of Spike. Without warning, he drove his fist into Spike's face and began pounding him senseless.

Spike got in a few good blows himself, but he was weakening. His human body was no match for Angel's vamp strength. Desperately afraid that he really might die, he raised the stake in his left hand and slammed it up against Angel's heart.

Angel's fist stopped flying as he felt the point of the wood connect with his chest. He laughed harshly. "Go ahead. Do it Spike. I dare you. Make Buffy proud."

Spike growled. Calling on his last reserve of strength, he pulled back the stake and drove it into Angel's chest, purposefully striking him just below the heart.

"You ungrateful whelp," Angel growled, as he looked down at the stake protruding from his chest.

"Well," Spike shrugged, "shouldn't really surprise you." Spike stepped away from the wall and walked past Angel, giving him his back. If Angel decided to pursue him, he knew he was dead.

Angel pulled the stake from his chest with a sickening roar.

Spike ignored him.

Somehow managing to walk, despite the trembling in his legs, he mounted the stairs, and began the long ascent up to the kitchen. His joints ached, he was bleeding from several different places and he felt like he was going to pass out. Still, he had to make it to the top of the steps and make a good show for Angel.

Finally, he reached the door and opened it. There, standing in front of him was Buffy, a terrified look on her face. Spike smiled at her wanly and then collapsed in her arms.

Chapter Twenty-two: Buffy and Angel

After Buffy and Dawn had put a very unconscious Spike to bed, Buffy made her way downstairs. She found Angel sitting in the living room, waiting for her.

As soon as he saw her he stood up. "Buffy," he began.

"Outside," she said, her voice brooking no debate.

Angel followed her out onto the back porch. Once the door was closed behind them, she turned around and slugged him.

Angel lost his balance and fell off the porch, landing on the grass below. He looked up at Buffy with a look of complete and utter shock.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she yelled. "What? You bring Spike back to life just so you could kill him? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Angel pushed himself up from the ground and brushed the dirt from his clothes. "Look," he said, "I had my reasons."

"Oh really? Would you mind sharing them with me, or do I get to beat you down again?"

"Don't you think your little boyfriend driving a stake through my chest was enough?" he asked, clutching at his wound.

"What?"

"Yeah, Spike? You're little hero? Drove a stake through my chest."

Buffy couldn't help but smile a little. Knowing it was wrong, she forced herself to sober up and glare at Angel. "I don't care what he did to you down there. Whatever he did, he did in self-defense. Now, again. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I know what he did to you," Angel said somberly.

"Excuse me? As in . . .?"

"As in, last year? You? Spike? Upstairs in the bathroom?"

Buffy's face fell and she felt her heart sinking in her chest. "How . . . how did you . . .?"

"The Oracles. They showed me. Buffy," he walked up the steps and joined her on the porch. "What were you thinking, having a relationship with Spike after that?"

Buffy looked at him with some astonishment. "What right do you have to tell me what relationships I should and should not have?"

"Buffy, he tried to rape you."

"And he failed."

"And that's a moot point, and you know it. Maybe you don't remember what it was like. Maybe the memory has faded for you, but I just saw it. Just days ago. And it haunts me. Every night I close my eyes and I see it. God Buffy, how could you get over it? How did you convince yourself that everything was okay? How desperate where you?"

There was something maddening in Angel's holier-than-thou tone. Buffy pulled back her fist and swung at him again. This time Angel caught her hand in midair and stopped her.

"Fine. You want to defend him, go ahead. You think he's changed? He hasn't changed Buffy. He's still the same evil, selfish, violent, deranged lunatic that he's always been. Even a shiny new soul can't change that, as much as you'd like it to."

Buffy wrenched her fist out of his grip. "Oh, so it's fine when it's you and Angelus. Then the soul makes a difference. But not for Spike, right?"

"He hurt you Buffy."

"He's not the only one."

They stood there in silence for a moment. Finally she said, "What do you want Angel? Why did you come here?"

"To repay Spike for his treatment of you."

"Then why get him his life back in the first place?"

"Because we needed you. Spike was just a means to an end."

"And you figured you could always come here and kill him and I wouldn't mind."

"Something like that."

Buffy turned to go back into the house. "Go home Angel. You've gotten your revenge. I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself." She went back into the house leaving the door open behind her. Let Angel go back to LA. He was leaving enough problems behind him in Sunnydale to last long after he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-three: Into the Light

The light was blinding, hurting his eyes. Instinctively, he recoiled. For one glorious moment, he thought he was a vampire again. And then he realized, no, his head just hurt.

Spike forced his eyes open a small fraction and peered out at the world before him. He was in Buffy's room - that much he could tell - a steady stream of sunlight pouring in through the sheer curtains. Even though the lights were off, it was too bright by half. He wanted to scream.

He closed his eyes again and waited for the throbbing in his head to die down. It didn't. Neither did the aches and pains in the other parts of his body. Damn bloody poofter! Who the hell did he think he was, coming to town and beating him to a bloody pulp? What kind of hero did that make Angel anyway? Pulverizing a defenseless human? Spike tried to snort in disgust, but ended up choking.

Instantly, Buffy came running into the room. "Are you all right?"

Sitting up in the bed now, he turned his bowed head to stare at her. "What the hell happened?"

"You passed out." She crossed over to the bed and sat down beside him. "How do you feel?" she asked, placing a gentle hand against his bruised chest.

"Been better, pet," he said, watching her curiously, mesmerized by her face.

"We patched you up the best we could. Believe it or not, nothing was broken. Just a lot of soft tissue damage. You know, if you're Slayer long enough, you sort of become your own medical expert?"

"Is he gone?"

Buffy began tracing a light pattern on his chest with her fingertips. She seemed fascinated by his flesh. "He's gone. Back to LA."

"Do you know why he . . .?"

"Yes." She looked up at him. "I know. He told me."

Spike pulled his eyes away from hers and looked down at the hand that was touching him. "Is that all right with you? Are you really okay with . . .?"

"Yes, Spike, I am. I wouldn't be with you if I wasn’t. A lot has changed," she said, as she slid her hand up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "I forgive you, you know that. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Buffy . . ."

"Shhh," she whispered, bringing her mouth close to his. "Don't. It's all right." Buffy placed a gentle kiss against his lips and then pulled back. "You really need to get your rest."

She got up from the bed and helped him lay back down, adjusting his pillows and making sure he was comfortable. Spike didn't want her to leave. He needed to be with her, needed to talk with her. He felt like an invalid. He was feeling more useless than ever.

"Buffy, luv," he said, as she turned to walk away.

"Yeah, Spike?" she asked, as she turned back to him, and pulled a chair up beside the bed.

He breathed a small sigh of relief. "Nothing, nothing."

With great effort, he shifted over on the bed and motioned for her to lie down next to him.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

He simply reached out and pulled her closer in answer.

The chair forgotten, Buffy laid down beside him and rested her head against his bruised chest.

Spike suppressed a shocked gasp as her soft body made contact with his battered one. He could feel every cut, every bruise as if it were being freshly made. But he didn't care. If he could have Buffy beside him, he would endure all the pain in the world. He just wanted to feel her close to him, even if it meant more suffering. He'd go to hell and back for her, if he had to. Nearly had. Anything for Buffy.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, as she repositioned herself slightly, trying to make him more comfortable.

"Fine. Just fine luv," he said, gently stroking her hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent.

He had been beaten. So, Angel hadn't exactly won the battle, still it barely seemed like a victory. Now it was going to take him forever to heal.

"I think you surprised Angel," she said absently.

"Come again?"

"You stabbed him in the chest. He wasn't . . . exactly . . . expecting that. You were wonderful you know?"

"What? How was I wonderful? Nearly got my insides torn out by that soddin' poof."

Buffy laughed a little. Spike felt it reverberate through his entire body.

"But you didn't. You fought him and lived to tell the tale. You beat a master vampire and . . ."

"Master vampire my ass! The only thing that ponce is a master of is causing trouble, sticking his bloody nose in where it doesn't belong."

She raised up on her elbow and turned to look at him. "And if he hadn't have, you wouldn't be here."

Spike stared into her soft hazel eyes and felt his heart break. She was right. He hated Angel, but without Angel, they would never have been given this second chance.

Spike pulled in a steadying breath and raised a weak hand to caress her cheek. "You really want this?" he asked.

"Yes Spike, I do. I want you. Not beneath me, but beside me. Always."

A small smile tugged at Spike's lips, in spite of the pain.

Buffy leaned down and gave him a small kiss. "Get some sleep Spike. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" he asked, his eyes already closed.

"A new day."

She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly on his freshly scarred eyebrow. He was asleep before the kiss ended.

END