Chapter one

Buffy found him. Soaked through with rain; miserable and half starved to death and for some reason, it didn’t even occur to her to stake him. He lay unconscious under a tree on the university grounds and would no doubt dust at first light. Buffy’s feet changed direction and she took two steps, three, five before turning back to him in an almost desperate panic. She knelt over him and rolled him over.

His haunting blue eyes stood stark against his pasty wet face, reminding her that the steady pelt of rain had not come to an abrupt end in the last two minutes since she had discovered him. His open eyes were unexpectedly focused and she sucked in a breath in surprise that he seemed aware enough of her being there. But if he did, he closed them without further acknowledgment. He was soaked through to the skin and his body periodically shook in reaction, making Buffy jump in gut wrenching agony. Why, she couldn’t tell. This once frightening and evil warrior had helped her save the world, and as evil as he remained, at that one time she fancied she had recognised something worthy in him. It was vague, and she didn’t consciously understand it, nor at this moment did she seek too. Something of him called to her, something almost mystical, deep and primal, otherwise she would never have found him under the tree.

With a shaking hand she pushed back some sopping curls from his forehead, marvelling at this new information. ‘Holy shit, Spike has curls,’ ran through her mind, as confusing to her as the steady thump of her heart caused merely by her fingertips barely whispering against his skin. If she had ever thought about him much she might have noticed that the gel that created a hard helmet of his bleached hair was for a reason. As it was, the knowledge now came to her in an almost affectionate shock.

Something of her strangely gentle touch must have reached his awareness again as he cracked open an exhausted and ailing eyelid.

“Slayer,” his hoarse voice rasped. No surprise, no fear, almost like he was used to seeing her beside him. “Help me.” His hand reached for her awkwardly but dropped from the air in weakness and fatigue halfway along its path. Again he closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

Buffy reached for his hand, no hesitation about her movements at all, and stroked the skin of his palm. In a completely spontaneous gesture she curled the hand and placed the knuckles against her lips. A single tear slid from her watery eyes and dripped from her cheek to his lazy fist. Her mind was suspended in fear, ‘What could have done this to someone so strong?’

“Hold on Spike,” she whispered. “I’ll help you.”

With that she slung him over her shoulder like an enormous bag of potatoes and ran for Giles’s, knowing that there would be confrontation and refusal, but determined that he would help them. Besides, for something so horrible to happen, there must be something bad about. They would need him for information.

For all Spike’s attempts to kill her, Buffy almost cried at the relief she always felt when she laid eyes on him during his various returns to Sunnydale, and she could go to bed knowing that he still existed somewhere in the world. That he was not yet dust. But tonight, she knew, sleep would be a little more evasive. Giles would just have to suck it up and help, and that was that. Spike was her vampire. The death he seemed to be courting right now? Not bloody acceptable! She giggled humourlessly at her Spikism, but groaned in relief when Giles’s door came into view. She stopped for a moment, and lowered her head, trying to summon courage with her steady view of the pavement. Then she heard the whispered “ Buffy,” from the mouth against her back and knew an almost delirious happiness that she had no explanation for. She straightened her spine and marched determinedly for the door and almost certain disappointment from the face of the man she could call dad. Chills suddenly prickled under her skin as she remembered that horrible day in the library when her friends had invited her to her own intervention. Angel’s return: what a doozy of a day that was, and now she was bringing another vampire stray to her watchers door. ‘Will history please stop repeating itself’, she called out to whatever interfering little powers out there continued to muddy up her path.

For once she didn’t care. Spike would die from no other cause than one that she could inflict, and she would not kill him from neglect. This was not like Angel, she wouldn’t hide from the Scoobies condemnation. There was something personal about this, something they could not understand as normal humans, how could they understand when she didn’t herself? All she knew, all she felt, was that her survival somehow depended on his. Why else would she be relieved that he walked away almost unscathed and undead from their battles? There was almost pride that she hurt him but never destroyed him. She was proud of him that he gave as good as he got, that he never backed down, that he liked to keep fighting her. It thrilled her to know someone like that, someone not intimidated by her strength, someone who in fact revelled in it.

Somewhere down deep she suspected that if it came right down to it, and it had been Spike she had had to send to hell through Acathla, she may have flipped out anyway in the very same way. Angel and Spike were linked, and no matter how much they hated each other- abhorred each other- she could never see either of them as the disgusting, murdering animals that haunted her nights. Vampires on the whole disgusted her -and Spike frightened her, though she would never admit it- but she could never put Spike or Angel up against her eternal measure of vampire badness. Even Drusilla jumped into her weird ‘save that vampire logic’. It must all be about family then. It was almost like, as much as she belonged with the Scoobies, Angel’s introduction to his family had also made her one of them. Oh, she could probably kill them all if she had too, but way down deep, she didn’t want to. They were linked alright, and now she was starting to see that there was something almost special about that family, atleast the men of the family, though something dark bordered on her almost acceptance of Dru. Something like maybe her heart and soul belonged to them. Spike was not a normal vampire, as Giles himself admitted begrudgingly once she told him of Spike’s role in helping save the Watcher and defeating Angelus, but that would still gain him little favour once they stepped across the threshold.

There was the door, and with a heavy dread, but a renewed sense of right, she pounded on it with her closed fist.
 

Chapter Two


Angel couldn’t relax. Ever since he had jumped in his car following Cordy’s impassioned alarm, he couldn’t make himself calm down. Just one word Spike was enough to make him grind his teeth and thump again and again on the little dining table he sat at. The second name Giles had him nearly jumping for safety every time the man came near him on his continual laps around the room. He may have his soul back and still be trying to fight evil like the rest of the Scoobies, but he knew he was barely tolerated by the man whose house he now found himself situated.

“Are you quite certain Cordelia saw Spike?” Giles asked for about the fourth time, cleaning his glasses again with a near ferocity of alarm and concern.

“He’s rather hard to mistake. You know, no one else quite wears white like Spike!”

Angel raised an eyebrow and Giles almost recoiled in disgust until he checked himself.

“I’m not trying to be funny Giles, I am just as worried as you are.”

“Right then, tell me again exactly what Cordelia told you.” His glare made Angel feel uncomfortable and he was about to start squirming in his seat until he realised he was over two hundred years old and shouldn’t feel like a child. He sighed and again tried to make sense of Cordy’s message.

“She just said to get to Sunnydale and that Buffy would need help with Spike. I didn’t wait for anything else. I just took off. I really didn’t want to waste time when it has to do with Spike.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, we have had dealings with him in the not so distant past, and we haven’t needed your help then- or rather Buffy didn’t- so I wonder why this time is any different.” Giles resentfully continued pacing and rubbing his glasses as he pondered.

“So Cordelia gets visions from the Powers that Be? How incredibly fascinating. Couldn’t have happened to a lovelier girl,” he sarcastically shot over his shoulder.

Giles was putting up a brave front but Angel could tell that he was worried out of his mind. His fingers started drumming a rhythm on the tabletop as he thought of his options.

“Giles, where might Buffy be patrolling right now,” Angel asked. He jumped, alarmed at the explosion of sound that answered his question.

“I don’t bloody know, she wanders, nothing the same each night. She could be in Timbuktu for all we know.” He raised his finger to point at Angel and start another burst of fury mixed with fear when there was a loud thump at his door. With something akin to dread he approached it, Angel following so closely behind him that he nearly reeled away in pure revulsion. He touched it once then opened it with a rather unsuspected force and nearly collapsed back gratefully on Angel when he saw it was Buffy. Angel for his part nearly had eyes bugging out of his head when he came face to face with Buffy, the girl he had left behind, and the back end view of what was unmistakably combat boots and a long black leather duster.

Buffy didn’t seem to notice him as she asked Giles to invite her in: her voice hard in her determination. Giles just stood in front of his charge with his mouth hanging open rather indelicately. He hadn’t seemed to have made the connection between the new arrival and their earlier conversation, but Angel sure the hell had.

“What are you doing Buffy? You can’t invite Spike in here.”

Buffy raised surprised eyes to Angel.

“Wow,” she almost breathed. “I guess this is a good old family reunion. Giles where’s the food?”

Giles quickly snapped to it, and his eyes widened as he finally worked out what was going on.

“Buffy, is that Spike?”

“Yeah, and guess what, he’s heavy. So can you invite us in already.”

“Us?” Giles jumped back in fright and reached for a cross and stake.

Buffy snorted.

“Watcher man,” she started sarcastically, and then rolled her eyes. Great, she thought, first I start with the ‘bloody’s’ like Spike and now I’m channelling Xander.

“You saw me two hours ago before I went on patrol. I haven’t had time to be turned. I may be good but I’m not that good. I just meant us as in I’m carrying Spike us.”

Giles stood completely flabbergasted.

“Why would I do that?”

“Giles, I don’t want to argue about this. There is something wrong with him. I found him passed out under a tree and he looks really sick.”

That got Angel’s attention.

“Vampires don’t get sick,” he said arrogantly.

Buffy narrowed her eyes angrily. “They do if they get poisoned,” the barb close enough to make him flinch and he stepped away.

“Giles,” she turned back to him. “Both Angel and I will stake him should it be necessary, but I really don’t think he could raise an eyelid right now, let alone a fang.” Her voice grew steadily louder as her impatience grew. “He’s heavy Giles, let us in.”

For some really odd reason Buffy sounded like she was going to burst into tears.

“If you don’t let us in I’m taking him to my house and he already has an invite there.” Her voice cracked with emotion and Angel stared at her in shock. He couldn’t believe that she was fighting so hard for his Childe. His eyes narrowed.

“What’s going on Buffy?” he ground out and was met with a furious glare. She was about to offer a heated reply when she felt, as well as heard, Spike groan.

“Buffy,” his voice worn, exhausted. “Put me down, luv. It hurts.” The last was whispered as he again lost consciousness.

“Giles,” Buffy and Angel called together and his eyes snapped again to the dead looking undead that hung over Buffy’s shoulder. He rubbed his forehead absently as he stepped aside.

“Come in Spike.” He waved his arm in a flourish of welcome. “You are so very welcome to come in and kill me in my sleep,” he mumbled as he walked further into his home.

“You can lay him on the sofa Buffy,” he called as he watched her struggle through the doorway. Angel went to help her but stepped back at her angry glare.

“Don’t interfere Angel,” she nearly spat as she finally upended her load, wincing as Spike’s head bumped the arm of the sofa.

The three stood back examining the now black leathery contents of the sofa with varying expressions of fear, interest and care. Angel could see Buffy flushing while she looked at Spike and a sharp slice of what he thought was pain hit him somewhere in his chest. He shook his head in confusion and turned back to the other vampire. His childe, his… hang on…

“Buffy,” he turned to her, confusion running rampant over his suddenly very brooding brow. Anger and jealousy suddenly barrelled out of control and he huffed at her like a child. “Just when exactly did Spike get his soul?”

 

Chapter Three


“What?” Buffy swivelled toward Angel, her fist cocked back ready to let fly. “Spike doesn’t have a soul. I just fought him last week when he had the ring of Amara, standing in the sunlight and all ‘You’re going to die slayer’. He was still obnoxiously evil then.”

Angel’s only reply was a raised eyebrow.

“I can smell it on him Buffy. He definitely has a soul.”

All three stood staring at the horizontal figure of Spike in equal parts amazement and shock.

Unaccountably, Buffy’s heart rate picked up a few beats and she could feel the steady thump, thump pounding against her ribs. She couldn’t tear her eyes from him. It was only last week he had cut her to the quick with his insensitive ribs about Parker. Why did his words shred her heart so? It didn’t make sense, but not only did it hurt to hear him say those things, for some reason it made her feel sick that he even knew she had slept with that waste of space.

Now Angel said Spike has a soul. Why? Where did it come from? How did he get it? And yeah, again, why? For one very strange but giddy moment she knew he had gotten it for her. That, however, did not make sense.

“Aargh…” Spikes sudden scream of pain made all three jump, their collective feeling suddenly turning from introspection to concern. Buffy fell forward and dropped to her knees at his side.

“Buffy.” His eyes were closed; he did not see her.

She clasped his hand and Angel and Giles gasped in astonishment. The connection of their hands erupted in flame, bright but non-igniting. Buffy continued to cling to his hand, completely unaware; with her other hand she allowed her fingers to sift gently through his hair, trying to calm him.

“Buffy, it’s so beautiful. I can see it; my soul. There isn’t much time. Get out baby, live.” Tears fell from his eyes, the lids squeezed tightly shut. Tears slowly slid down Buffy’s cheeks in sympathy for this fierce and frightening warrior, becoming more and more confused not only by what was going on, but also by her reactions to him, to his voice. ‘He called me baby’ and suddenly she smiled happily, just for a moment, blissful that he chose her for the endearment. ‘He can see his soul. I bet it is beautiful.’ The smile began to wane though in view of his obvious torment.

“It burns. Buffy, it hurts.”

The three interlopers just stared at him bewildered anew, all falling back as Spike suddenly opened his eyes and he jacknifed in the chair, dragging Buffy forward with him. As he turned towards them he caught Buffy’s eye and the expression in them was tender. Like an earthquake her world shook and she was transported to a place she didn’t know, standing before her champion and telling him of her love while he stared disbelievingly into her eyes. His reply was heard only by her, and she gasped, knowing that she had spoken the truth and hurt beyond measure that he was about to die not knowing how much she wanted him to live. Then she let go of his hand and ran, except she could still see him laughing while he was engulfed in flame and light, disintegrating and turning to dust. ‘No’, she screamed almost hysterically and started sobbing, ‘Please don’t leave me.’ But in one final burst of bright, he was gone, like so many other worthless and unworthy vampires. Not him though, never him. He was her champion. And then the earthquake was over.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Buffy stared into his eyes, confused and upset by her vision. She still shook her head from side to side in denial and a wave of fierce possessiveness swept her away and she gripped his hand hard.

It couldn’t remain, though, and as one they turned to their held hands and stared in shock at the flames still binding them together, but neither trying to pull away. Ever so slowly Buffy let go of her tight hold of his hand but didn’t pull completely away. She stroked her fingers sensually against his skin before they fell away and into her lap. She continued to stare at her hands clasped together on her knees and tried to sort out what had just happened. She had had a vision, of that much she knew, but how could it be. In that vision she told Spike she loved him and felt devastated at his demise. That wasn’t right though, because she didn’t need a vision to know that his final dusting would be devastating to her. The single most important fact that she gleaned from the moment though was that he was her champion. Not Angel, but Spike, and could anything be any weirder?

She raised her eyes hesitantly to him, her gaze resting on his shoulder, lifting slowly to his neck. She was almost afraid to go any further. Then she really looked at his neck, the skin a sort of grey, not the white she had expected and her eyes flew to his in alarm. The flash of fear and confusion in his own electrifyingly blue orbs brought her back to Giles’s living room with a bump. She remembered, finding him unconscious under that tree, his half starved appearance freaking her out. She searched now, for a reason of why he was in such poor shape. He seemed shell-shocked however, and she doubted that at this moment he could tell anything more than he had already relayed in his unconscious rambling.

“Champion,” he whispered through cracked, dry lips and she jumped in recognition of her vision.

“Spike,” she whispered back, raising her fingers to her lips as though to catch a kiss. ‘Oh man, this is weird,’ she thought, rolling her head from side to side as if to view him from the different angles. Or even to get comfortable for a real kiss, and she stopped abruptly.

“You need to feed, Spike. You look like you haven’t had any blood for weeks.” Buffy could hear her voice getting weaker as she spoke. “What happened to you?” And again the tears came, and she tried desperately to not let them fall. Even though she had seen what happened to him in her vision, it still didn’t explain this, his current state of starvation.

“Yes Spike, that is something I think we all would like to know.” And just like that she remembered there were others in the room.

Spike had obviously not worked out yet where he was or what was happening, possibly still lost in the same vision as she had seen, still her champion and denying her love. His gaze fell on her lips and seemed unable to leave and she could feel a very odd shiver begin to travel up her spine. Suddenly she felt warm and her skin flushed, and those words came back to her in a rush and she just knew that she was in trouble. At some time or place, or maybe yet to come, she had told Spike that she loved him. She knew it was true, yet he hadn’t believed it. Where did all that hate, and mortal enemy stuff go though, that she couldn’t even look at him with any trace of animosity? She was stumped.

Oh that’s right, Angel and Giles. Still kneeling beside the sofa she turned to the other two occupants behind her and tried really hard to work out what they were doing here. Take charge, she silently pleaded, and Giles, God love him, came to her rescue.

“Angel, perhaps you could go to Willy’s and get Spike some blood.”

Angel looked angrily at Giles then seemed to cower under Giles’s penetrating glare, suddenly thinking what a very good idea it might be to escape this weirdo house for a while.

“It’s not like getting a soul these days is something wild and new. Been there, got the coffee mug,” he muttered bitterly as he made his way out the door, grabbing his leather coat on the way out.

“Well Spike,” Giles started, about to begin a tirade centring on his desire to not have Spike in his home, when one look from Buffy had him taking off rapidly for the kitchen. “Time for a spot of tea then, I think,” he spluttered and he was off.

That left them alone. Buffy stood and made her way to sit beside him on the sofa, with Spike following every movement, an almost giddy expression on his face.

“So,” she breathed. “My champion, huh?” And her breath hitched in her throat as he grinned at her. Then like an owl, his eyes widened to their full capacity and he stood, shouting “Bloody hell,” before grabbing his skull and falling gracefully to his knees.

“I got knabbed slayer, by bloody soldiers no less. I can’t feed anymore, and I was so hungry. All I could think to do was come to you, though I knew you would probably want to dust me, then something came over me while I was on my way here and I collapsed.” His broken voice for that moment matched his body, and she again struggled to remember how she had felt about this vampire only last week. Weirdness was definitely in the air because all she could think of were those three little words, and how unbelievably right they felt.

“ What came over you Spike?” He looked startled at the softness of her voice, but turned to face her and placed a hand on either side of her knees.

“I don’t know what it was, it felt like a burning, like a spark, and then I fell into a kind of dream State I guess, though it felt more like a bloody nightmare. Now I feel…” He looked to her as if she could tell him how he now felt. He was grasping for something, she could tell, but even though she suspected the ‘spark’ was his soul, how he felt remained a mystery. He may have always been able to read her but she wasn’t exactly Miss Observant when it came to people and their emotions.

“Wretched,” he almost spat it out, the word obviously distasteful. “That’s how I bloody feel, wretched. What the hell happened to me?” She was stunned to again see the shimmering of new tears in his eyes and she felt a gush of tenderness flood her system.

Reaching out her hand she placed the palm very softly against the skin of his cheekbone.

“I don’t know how it’s happened, but I think I saw something when I held your hand earlier. I saw you turn to dust.” Her tears fell silently as she whispered the last. She looked at him in beatific wonder as she traced a finger, barely touching, down to outline his lips. “Spike, I think you have your soul back.” Again their eyes clashed, the shock of her statement rivetting his eyes upon hers, unable to shift even slightly.

And then the panic set in.
 

Chapter Four


“Isn’t that wonderful Spike? Angel says you have your soul.” Buffy had a smile that stretched across her face from ear to ear, making Spike cringe in horror.

“What the bleedin’ hell are you on about, Slayer?” Spike nearly screamed at her. He could hear the desperate panic in his voice as he finally looked around his current surroundings; nowhere to run from her. Then he took in his position. He kneeled at her feet with his hands placed beside her knees on the sofa. Her smile had slipped a little at his earlier exclamation, but despite his fear he could feel the heat from her body as it reached from her legs to his fingertips and he felt hard pressed to keep his hands to himself. And what the hell was that about? Last week he wanted to rip her throat out and gorge on her blood and now he wanted nothing more wanted with a desperation in factto find out what it would feel like to slip his hands under her skirt and rest on the skin of her thighs, to feel that heat and be overcome.

With a suddenness that was startling he projected himself backwards at force and ploughed into the bookcase behind him, the impact knocking it back and causing a mini avalanche of books to land atop him. Stunned, he didn’t move, but more terrifying to him was not his lack of grace in movement, but the horror of the image of indeed ripping her throat out and ending her life once and for all. ‘Oh God’, his soul screamed at him, and then he was finally aware. ‘I think I’m gonna be sick’. His stomach muscles clenched in a way they had never done before as a vampire. He decided not to move just yet.

Spike thought closing his eyes might be a good idea, so with a final glance at Buffy, now looking rather concerned, he closed them to the room and tried to not only forget he was there with the Slayer, but tried to work out where the hell he was. Almost immediately the visions assaulted his darkness and he sat confused, trying to understand the message that he felt must be important to relay the meaning behind his current little dilemma.

Buffy had mentioned, before the bombshell, that she had had a vision of sorts, and in it he had turned to dust. He hadn’t seen the same thing as such but he had felt it, the burning pain as his body disintegrated and was no more. What did it mean? Why did he not see it like she did? He only felt and heard some words. He heard her tell him in the last seconds of his existence that she loved him, and him denying it so she would get her cute arse out of the bloody cave, because couldn’t she tell the whole bleeding place was about to implode? He felt her hurt, but as for himself he was pretty dumbfounded by what she had said. Dumbfounded, but stupidly happy.

What was going on? Since when did the Slayer have that kind of a relationship with the Big Bad? As mystified as he was, he wasn’t confused on his own feeling, and this is where the whole scenario is bloody whacked, he groaned to himself. When she said those words, it felt like he had been waiting for a lifetime to hear them, and he felt ecstatic. He felt euphoric. Some other incarnation of himself had the hots for the slayer, but not him, oh no, she might be shag worthy, but, hey, wasn’t Peaches around here somewhere? His eyes darted around for his Sire, and then narrowed as he suddenly began to think of him again as competition. Not again. He wouldn’t let that ponce win again.

A sudden scent pervaded his senses and heat took over his spot by the bookcase and his eyes opened almost of their own will. He had been so caught up in some kind of memory? Vision? Past life? That he hadn’t noticed her approach.

“Spike?” Her voice was soft, careful, but what made him wary was the concern.

“Yeah?” He felt incapable of saying anything else to her just yet. He felt speechless, rendered dumb by a sudden view of holding her in his arms and kissing her till she was breathless and moaning for more of his touch. And he found that he liked that image. Looking into her eyes he suddenly realised that he would really like for that one to come true. Then tried to shake some belated sense into his muddled brain.

“Before you woke up you said you could see your soul. Do you remember anything?” He felt her eyes on him, pleading with him to remember, but what exactly did she want him to remember? He couldn’t tell her that he remembered her saying that she loved him, not unless he felt like being sliced and diced, and dusted just for good measure. But what about this soul garbage? And just like that the images came to him, of blood and gore, his mouth tearing and destroying the flesh of the young and innocent, even the not so innocent, and those feelings of nausea came rushing back with a vengeance.

“Oh God, Buffy…”he cried out as he fell to his side and cried in a disgusting display of weakness.

“Buffy luv, I’m gonna be sick.” With a desperate lunge and tug she had him off the ground and hurtling toward the bath at what felt like the speed of light, but just in time for him to heave and heave with a violence that was frightening.

His body shook uncontrollably when he at last fell away from the tub. Standing and swaying on shaky legs he allowed the Slayer to lead him back out to the sofa where he collapsed in exhaustion. He had never experienced anything like that in all his unlife, and now that he had his fear reached new heights. He didn’t understand what was going on.

“Spike,” her voice broke through his haze and he felt a wet cloth clean his face. It brought him relief and he turned watery eyes to her in gratitude. “When did you last have any blood? All that upchucking and you had nothing to show for it.”

He tried to think; was it days, or weeks?

“When was it that I last saw you luv?”

“Just over a week ago.” Her eyebrows knit together in worry, almost suspecting but not quite believing his answer.

“Then before then. Those soldier boys nabbed me that night and their bagged blood was drugged. Did something to my head so I can’t feed anymore, bloody hurts whatever it is, get a shock, like, every time I go grrr at anyone. The pain, it's blinding. So I thought finally to come to you, thought you lot might take pity on the neutered vamp and help keep the soldiers away from me.” There had been a quiet control about his story, a sense of awe at what was done to him, rendering him toothless, and taking my favourite happy meals off the sodding menu, and he froze at the thought and felt like hurling again at the thought of any more of his aimless killing.

He turned pleading eyes on the Slayer as he silently begged her to do something, to understand what was going on and explain it to him.

“I don’t know about the soul, Slayer. Is it like Peaches? Will I lose it? Why aren’t I crawling around trawlin’ for rats? I mean, it hurts, I feel bad for all that I’v done, and bloody odd feelin’ that is too I tell you, but I don’t think it feels like it should if I just got it, you know?” He was rewarded again with her smile and he breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t cracked him in the nose, and he wasn’t dust. In fact…

“Oi, Slayer, what’s with the gooey looks your sendin’ me?” His voice was croaky and weak and maybe that was why he still had an unbroken nose, and why her smile hadn’t slipped during his insert foot here moment. Instead, she seemed to beam at him.

“Hell if I know, Spike.” And she giggled adorably. His own smile seemed to disappear as that thought came to light, he wasn’t ready for adorable. He wasn’t ready to understand a soul. He wasn’t ready to be in Giles’ home, as he finally figured from all the cursing drifting in from the kitchen. And he really wasn’t ready to understand why the hell he would ever have warm fuzzies for the Slayer. Let alone be in a position where she would tell him she loved him. To tell the truth he was well and truly freaked and he needed to get off the topic now, before anything stranger happened.

“So Slayer, do you have my Gem around handy. Wouldn’ mind that back at all,” and his devious grin battled weakly.

She returned his grin with beaming amusement.

“I was going to give it to Angel,” she all but teased and then laughed at his growl, knowing it was good-natured. “I thought I might keep it for now though, probably not the best thing for Angel to have in case Angelus ever comes back out to play.” Then her smile and sunny disposition evaporated like rain on a steaming footpath.

“We need to know what happened to you with this soul thing Spike. It could be really important. And, well, I get weird vibes from the whole situation.”

Spike tilted his head to the side, studying her.

“Yeah Slayer, I guess it would be good to know.”

“Why do you do that?” He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Why are you calling me Slayer again? When I found you, you called me Buffy, and again when you started calling out when you were unconscious.”

“I don’t know.” He looked away confused, tiredly trying to work out this mystery on his own.

“It almost feels like there are two Spike’s inside me.” He looked again to her and she smiled encouragment. “You said before that you had a vision of me turning to dust? It’s like I have a memory of it, but I don’t think its really happened. Do you get what I mean?” He wanted her to get it because he didn’t know what else to do, how else to explain it.

“I guess we need to research then. Try and work out what happened and where the soul came from. Find out if it has any affect and whether you are likely to ever go Spikelus.” She giggled again and he felt a flash of pure and familiar lust in his groin. His eyes shot wide as saucers as they focused on her lips. And without thought of who they were or who was in the flat, they drifted toward each other and burned as their lips finally touched. Spike knew without a doubt that something about that other Spike, the one to burn and dust for his love, was really a little part of him too. And her lips brought him finally home to rest.
 

Chapter 5:

Giles stood on the periphery, unsuspecting and so, shocked, by his sudden view of his Slayer and her mortal enemy in a lip lock to end all lip locks. Just before his glass of scotch took a first class dive to the floor he observed a strange red glow surrounding them. The watcher in him kicked in and he filed it away for further research, though he had every belief that this was one that he would never find in the books. This was one he never thought he would find on his living room floor either. He was completely without a clue as to how to solve this mystery, and unless Spike could tell them something, or might have already told Buffy something, he didn’t know where to start. He felt it was an accurate measure of his evening so far that he hadn't gone in there with stakes a blazing and rendered William the Bloody plant fertilizer.

Something nudged a little corner of his consciousness though, and he closed his eyes in order to try and think of what he was missing. It also had the added advantage of blocking the kissing two from his sight. Ah, Cordelia. What did Angel say that she saw? That Buffy would need help with Spike. Maybe she knew something else before the great lumbering ex-lover vampire came crashing to the rescue. Giles humphed, before spinning on his heel and heading back to the kitchenette and another glass of scotch.




Buffy didn’t know how it happened but it was everything she had, well, never thought about really. Her mind was blissfully blank as she felt her lips just barely touch his. There was no movement for a while just a quiet jostle of their bodies on the floor seeking comfort before her eyelids grew heavy with anticipation and she surrendered her lips to sensation. His lips were a little dry but soft as they went. There was no pressure, almost like fairy kisses, and that scorched her skin all the more. She opened her mouth a little and could immediately feel his tongue slide across her lower lip before gently and shallowly diving beyond to lick her own tongue.

There was no longer any thought, just sensation as she craved his kiss, and as it deepened it tore her former restraint apart. Her hand snaked around his neck to pull him closer and goosebumps erupted on the skin of her arm as a little touch of his hair scraped over. And she remembered. Mmmm, Spike curls. She moaned into his mouth and moved closer again as his own arm twined around her waist, and suddenly she was hauled into his lap, but still his lips were gentle on hers. His tongue stroked the insides of her cheeks, her teeth, but mostly it caressed her own tongue. Where she might have forcefully duelled, feeling desire escalate beyond her thought, he remained patient in method and so got the best of her.

She wanted to be closer; she was starved for him. Something told her they belonged like this, but it was so fast. How could this happen? She had never imagined being with Spike like this, had never imagined him with a soul. She was frightened. Could she do this again? But God, why was she even thinking that she wanted to? What if the soul was a curse and he lost it like Angelus? Something basic however clanged like a church bell telling her that she didn’t need to worry, this was her warrior, her champion, and he would never betray her, if she were just honest. With his lips continuing to tell her stories, she believed it. She wanted so much to give him the chance. Not to prove himself, because she had a feeling that he had more than done that already. The chance for right. Could they do it without the struggle? This was the Hellmouth though, who knew how possible that was! Not once did it occur to her to wonder about the reaction of Giles, her mother or the Scoobies. Nothing mattered, bar his lips upon hers.

Somewhere out of sight she had heard a glass smash on the floor, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the rush she got from this man’s vamp's lips. It deepened as she lost her fingers in his hair, her whole body vibrating with the hum of desire. She could feel a slow, slick burn all the way to her toes, but particularly areas in between and she remembered Parker, how wrong he had felt compared to this. She shifted the angle of her head and the kiss became more desperate as Spike held her head to his, his fingers tangled in her long, golden hair. Suddenly he wrenched her back and started to cover her neck with long sultry licks and kisses. She felt there really was no choice now but to let her warm palms drift across his abdomen under his shirt and her body blazed like an out of control forest fire. Knowing her face was red and her heart pounding out of control she let her mind wander to other times when they had done this, how wonderful it felt to have his naked, muscular body slide back and forth against hers. The memory added to her overflow of sensation and her body felt a flame.

She felt his hand at the underside of her breast, brushing against her bra when they came crashing back to reality with the screeching ring of the telephone. Spike obviously came to his senses first as he thrust her away from him with a look of pure torment and horror on his face. The images of their sweaty and slick bodies took more time to evaporate from her fevered mind but once they did her eyes narrowed.

"That never happened." Her voice was flinty and he shrunk back away from her. He should have known she would deny that, as involved as she was in it. Why should he be hurt that she didn’t want to acknowledge their heat? This, after all, was more like the Slayer he had always known, not this soft, caring girl who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him. He felt the beginning of a roller coaster ride already speeding out of control.

Her face softened slightly as she took in his wary expression.

"Not the kiss," she whispered. "That so did happen. I meant the visions I was having. I think my memories might be melding with another Buffy. I think we can assume that our emotions might be doing the same. So the question on the table is, do we go with it and allow it to happen, or do I dust your sorry ass now so I don't sit up all night trying to work out why, after two years of hating your guts, I now want to lick you from head to toe? Do these visions come from another Buffy? Maybe from another dimension? Or are they from me but from the future?" Along the way of her little musings she had lost sight of who she was talking too.

Spike was intrigued despite himself. As grey and hungry as he still looked, he recognised her distraction and he adopted his renowned smirk and kinked his head at her. Leaning forward slightly with his hands draped over his knees he was hoping to hide his obvious excitement at the image she had just brought to his mind. Licking…he could definitely get into some of that!

"What visions did you have, gorgeous?" He licked his lips as he gazed hungrily at hers.

Buffy flushed and almost in a trance she told him of the wild and powerful sex she had seen them have, how real it felt like she had definitely experienced the sensation of him, when she suddenly realised what she was saying. They were out of control enough already, no need to give him further ideas.

"Not that you need to hear any of that kind of stuff. So not going to happen again buster, so wipe that sleazy grin off your face," she huffed, embarrassment forcing her to look down and away from him. The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed her and she looked round for an escape. She found it by the quick glimpse of the phone line leading into the kitchen. "Giles," she yelled and took off for the kitchen, leaving Spike on the floor with his own sexy images in his head.

Spike hauled himself to his feet and slowly fell back to the sofa, still feeling remarkably weak, and wishing angrily for some blood. His gut was all twisted with emotion, remorse, hunger and lust, and for the unlife of him, he couldn’t work out which he wanted to resolve first.

That kiss, he thought with a gleeful chuckle, was bloody hot. He knew what she meant. It was beyond strange that just touching her made him know personal things, sensual things, about her body and how she would react to his touch. He shouldn’t know these things; they had never had any kind of relationship that would even hint to him of this situation occurring. He knew what it felt like to rub his tongue over her nipples, nipping hard at them with his teeth once they became rock hard for him. He knew what it felt like to be encased in her heat, to hear her moan beneath him, above him as he stroked back and forth. He knew what sounds they both made as she took him in her mouth and sucked him in her own special way. She needn’t be embarrassed, was his predominant thought, finding it impossible now to control his erection after recapturing those beautiful images. He was embarrassed enough for the both of them.

Spike thought it was high time he tried to solve an easier mystery. Where the bloody hell did Peaches go?
 

Chapter Six

Buffy quickly realised that Giles was talking to Cordelia on the phone, but for the life of her she couldn’t work out why. That was until Angel came prancing back through the door with a paper bag containing a number of bladders of blood. After that kiss she was finding that she needed to slightly reconstruct her memory. From scratch. She’d totally forgotten that Angel was here.

With a wary eye, she located Spike back on the couch, his arm slung wearily over his face and looking like he would have no energy for anything more tonight. It was time to give him some nourishment. Hmmm, Buffy nourishment. Her eyes crossed at the yummy thoughts that wordage provoked, but she quickly snatched the bag from Angel and went back to the kitchen to heat Spike some blood.

“Thanks,” she tossed over her shoulder at the hulking and sulking vamp before disappearing briefly round the corner. She popped her head back through the window opening, though, to let him know that Giles was talking to Cordy, and asked if he knew what it was about?

“Oh yeah,” he stumbled awkwardly. “Might.” And he followed her round the corner.

Giles seemed startled to have so many in his kitchen before realising his own lack of space as Buffy nearly barrelled them both out of the way on her way back out with the warmed mug of blood.

“Yes, thank you so much, Cordelia. That will be extremely helpful. I’ll put you onto Angel now, shall I?” Without further hesitation, he passed the phone back to Angel and made his own escape. He felt he deserved to observe his new house guest at least a little.


Spike came to at the tantalising scent of blood- human blood. He raised his body to take the mug from Buffy, and hesitated slightly before taking a sip. He cringed a little at the taste.

“Did I make it too hot?” He still couldn’t get over the concern in her voice.

“No luv. Jus it’s human. Doesn’ feel right all of a sudden.” His face crinkled at that observation. He was beyond hunger though so he concentrated on the liquid that flowed smoothly down his throat. When he finished, he raised his eyes to see both Buffy and her Watcher sitting in chairs angled toward him with shared pensive expressions on their faces. And to add to his surreal moment, along came Angelus with another chair. Then he was hemmed in.

“Right then.” He felt he needed to start things off as two of the three were looking at him like he was bound to be yesterday’s dust. His gaze settled on Buffy and he couldn’t help but smile at her besotted expression. To him it was obvious that he had really dusted and gone to some weird non-hell because this could not be real.

Giles nodded his head, took out his handkerchief and began to rub at his glass lenses as he tried to think of what to say.

“I’ve just had a call from Cordelia…”

“The cheerleader,” Spike butted in. Giles glared at him before continuing.

“Buffy,” he turned to address her. “That is why Angel is here. Apparently Cordelia gets visions like messages, I suppose from the Powers That Be…”

“You mean the ones that brought Angel back from Hell?” She interrupted, and Giles gritted his teeth, knowing he was in for a longer night than he desired.

“Yes, that would be them.”

“Right, so the cheerleader had a vision and now Peaches is on your doorstep. What does that have to do with me?”

“Well if you would all bloody shut up for one minute and let me tell the tale you’d find out now, wouldn’t you?” he exploded, jumping to his feet. Angel smirked as he saw Giles do the pace race he had witnessed earlier in the night, glad that this time he wasn’t the cause.

Everyone was silent, waiting for him to continue, but he seemed to be expecting another interruption. At their continued silence, he decided to resume. However, just as his mouth widened, there was a frantic knocking on his door. Almost exasperated beyond endurance he stomped to the door and flung it wide, and just managed to get out of the way before the Scooby Gang, including Anya and another blondish haired girl he didn't recognise, all but fell through the door in desperation, sounding like a gaggle of geese hyped up on demon speed.

“Giles, Giles, strange things have been happening, we need research…” they were all yelling at once then came to a screaming halt at the sight of Angel and Buffy sitting sort of together and facing someone on the sofa.

“What’s brood boy doing here?” Xander asked, pointing to the vamp in question.

“Oh…th-this i-is Angel?” Tara asked Willow. Willow nodded yes, her eyes wide with surprise.

They all continued around to the other side of the sofa until they could take in the fourth person in Giles’ home. Simultaneously they saw Spike. Willow and Xander both let out horrified screams and rushed behind Buffy and Angel. Tara and Anya continued to stand there with raised brows, not having a clue what had happened.

Xander pointed at Spike and breathed so hard in fear that he was close to hyperventilating.

“Buffster, all with the believing in your fighting skills and all, but why isn’t he tied up, or chained up, or hey, here’s one for ya, dusted?” His voice had reached an uncomfortable shrill tone and both Angel and Spike flinched. Swivelling his head back and forth from Spike to Angel, Xander made a comical leap behind Buffy, making sure she was his protector. Pointing a shaking finger at Angel, he asked in an unmanly faltering voice, “Is he still Angel?”

Spike burst out laughing.

“You are a right ninny, ya know that? Do you think the Slayer would be sitting all calm like next to the heaving poof if he was Angelus? Better yet, do ya think I would be anywhere near him if he was?” By the last Spike’s voice had a hardened edge that made Angel look away with regret.

“I never hated you Spike. You are my childe, and I’m sorry that Angelus is cruel.”

“Stop talking ‘bout him like he’s different to you. He isn’ someone else. He’s you, down to every ugly little moment. I need a smoke.” He rose on still unsteady feet and made to search his duster pockets.

“You can’t smoke in here,” Giles stepped forward.

“Look watcher, I’m bloody stressed to my bleedin’ eyeballs, and if I don’t have a ciggie soon I could snap under the strain.” His glare was mean, but a little twinge in his gut tried to tell him it was wrong to take his frustrations out on those trying to help him and he lowered his head in shame. “’m sorry,” he mumbled and plonked back onto the sofa, his head in his hands.

Having no understanding of her sudden compulsion, Buffy bailed on Xander and went to sit next to Spike and take his trembling hand in hers. Xander squeeked.

“Oh wow…” Tara breathed, staring in awe at the blonde couple.

“Buffy?” Xander and Willow questioned, their own reason for racing to Giles completely gone from their minds.

Giles for his part was fixated on Tara, realising he had never met her before, but wondering at what she was seeing that made her so astonished.

“Er, Willow, who is your friend?”

“Oh,” she blushed as all eyes turned to her. “This is Tara. She’s a really awesome witch.” Willow enthused.

“Will,” Tara seemed unaware that she was the subject of curiosity by almost all in the room. “Can you see it?” Willow looked at the pair on the sofa, looking heatedly into each other’s eyes. She couldn’t see what Tara might, but she could feel the tension in the room like a really heavy fog, and her eyes goggled.

“Oh my God, is it a spell?” Her eyes widened in alarm.

“I’m afraid not…” Giles grumbled, giving his lenses one last little swipe before replacing the glasses on the bridge of his nose, and tucking a hand in his pants pocket.

Reaching for Willow’s hand Tara used her other to motion the space around the two. “It’s beautiful Will, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Now all eyes were confused and Willow felt the need to explain, blushing again as she realised Tara was still holding her hand. She let go with a nervous, Willow giggle, and began.

“Like I said, Tara is a witch, she can see auras.”

Giles looked at the girl thoughtfully and wondered what this girl might add to Cordelia’s news.

“Right then, I suggest we all take a seat so we can have a chat and see if we can’t sort all of this out.”

“Merciful Zeus, do we just let them stay like that?” Xander pointed, his alarm not even receding a smidgeon.

“Buffy, do you really need to hold his hand.” Angel was obviously furious, but their eyes never left the other's as they mutually ignored him. “Giles,” he whined, back to that childlike feeling of hours before, and feeling really grumpy because of it.

He had a really uncomfortable feeling about this.
 

Chapter Seven

It took awhile but finally Giles had everyone seated on either a chair or the floor around the blonde couple, who intermittently smiled shyly at the other while continuing to clasp their hands together. A small patch of skin, the ultra soft padding beside her thumb, was becoming so sensitised by Spike’s own stroking thumb that she thought very soon she would moan. It made her want more, and she relived that kiss from earlier with a gentle sigh of yearning. Her skin almost rose to meet his caress and she wondered how she ever lived without that kind of feeling.

Buffy couldn’t think. On one hand she was aware that everyone was staring at her and that her friends wore horrified faces of fear for the unknown, while Tara and Anya shook up the mix with their own smiles of understanding and lack of interest. Anya of course contributed the latter. On the other hand, despite all this confusion, Buffy didn’t feel that what she was doing was wrong. She felt the most overwhelming sensation in the pit of her stomach that she was acknowledging something that had been under wraps for far too long. That she would be committing a grave error and insult to the vamp beside her if she did not offer him public comfort and support. It could not be though, as she had never before entertained any romantic or friendly feelings towards Spike, other than that strange claim to family, oh, and the fact that she had always thought he was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

Giles cleared his throat with aggravated purpose and everyone looked toward him to begin.

“Right, then. I guess I will take up from where I was interrupted before. We have had a call from Cordelia. Xander, do not open your mouth.” Xander closed his mouth. “Cordelia, it appears, receives visions from the Powers That Be and she told Angel to come here, as Buffy would need some help with Spike. Instead of finding out all of what she had to say, Angel came tearing in here, and waited for Buffy to haul Spike over the threshold. Now, before any of you ask, Angel detected Spike to have a soul…”

“Oh boy…” Xander began but Giles rushed on.

“And that is why he is not tied up. Also, quite incredibly, Buffy seems to be sharing some kind of bond with him.” Buffy blushed under the scrutiny of the room and Spike squeezed her hand once before letting her go. Immediately she felt cold and alone. The difference to her was suddenly frightening and Spike’s nose twitched in confusion at her sudden scent of fear.

“Now, I have a little information from Cordelia, but I am very interested at the timing of when all of you decided to be in dire need of research. Has something happened? Maybe it is related in some way?”

The four newest comers looked at each other, with Tara ducking shyly behind her hair.

“Something really weird happened Giles. Not frightening weird, ooh, but sorta, I mean a little scary right?” Willow asked Tara who very avidly nodded her head.

“I’ll definitely go for weird, in a ‘don’t ever want that freaky Friday happenin’ in my parental basement abode ever again’, kind of weird.” Anya smiled flirtatiously at Xander, winking and looking him up and down, so he flushed and quickly looked down.

“And what pray tell, was so weird to have you all rushing out to my home at this time of night?”

“Well, um, Tara and I were doing a spell. Sort of an astral projection thingy, well, as I got to the end, my hair went white.”

“L…l..like a G…Goddess,” Tara contributed.

Giles raised his brows in thought.

“Hmmm, that is very interesting. And nothing happened to Tara?”

“Nope, nada.” Willow smiled at her friend but no one noticed as they all looked to Giles for his interpretation. Without offering any ideas, he passed on to Xander.

“What happened to you, Xander?”

“Oh, well, it was sort of more Ahn than me,” Xander started but was interrupted by Anya.

“We were having sex,” she told them all confidently.

“Good for you, luv, though you’re pretty enough to not scrape the bottom of the barrel.” Spike leered at her, receiving a sexy, suggestive smile from Anya and a death glare from Xander and his companion on the sofa. Too late he remembered Buffy and how she may have interpreted that comment. His nervous glance at her found her looking away from him in obvious hurt, and he went back to feeling guilty and bad all over again. It may have never occurred to him to have a thing for the Slayer before, but after that earlier kiss he was kicking himself for risking further physical, soft episodes.

Xander decided to ignore the bleached vampire. “She had this big cut appear from her neck on this side,” and he indicated the left side of his own neck, “to her waist on the other side,” and he made a diagonal slash across his front. “The wound started bleeding, then she fainted. I freaked and thought she was dead.” Xander was obviously still affected by the event as he offered no jokes or levity in his inflection, but added as an afterthought, “Oh, and my eye started to sting really bad and I couldn’t see from it until Anya became conscious again.”

“How incredibly fascinating. Oh, and yes I’m sure that it was rather frightening for you, Xander. How remarkable that all that happened around the same time. I am thinking Spike received his soul and Buffy seems to have become, well, smitten…” His eyes widened as he realised that he had earlier walked in on his Slayer kissing another vampire, another with a soul. He had ignored the moment earlier, a feeling of ‘let it be’ overtaking his better judgement, but now he felt the full effect of his alarm. He decided to continue ignoring it for now but resolved to speak to Buffy about it later.

“So nothing happened with Tara, and nothing happened with me…”

“Um, Giles,” Angel interjected, thinking over the past few hours. “I think it might be possible that something might have happened to you earlier.”



Giles took in Angel’s hesitation and wondered why he seemed so nervous, then remembered his earlier almost overwhelming anger and hatred for the vampire, and couldn’t for the life of him work out why he had felt so violently against him. When he had left Sunnydale the previous year, they had been almost back to tentative if not friendly terms, and the fact that he was leaving Buffy, though upsetting for her, was the greatest act he could think the vampire had ever done.

“Oh,” he answered in understanding. “I guess I suddenly felt a very intense hatred for all things vampire with a soul. Sorry about that, Angel.” Angel sighed in relief, ending his sojourn into memory, trying to work out what he had done to set the Watcher off. Nothing at all apparently.

“So Giles, what’s the what?” Buffy had been silent up to now, hoping that everyone would forget that ‘smitten’ remark, and still hurt that Spike had flirted with Anya while right next to her. Her confidence had taken a jab and she wondered if he actually liked her at all, despite this compunction they had to touch each other.

“Cordelia said that Spike had acted like a Champion and the Powers that Be were allowing him his hearts desire as a reward. She did also say that this was from the future Spike, not a different dimension or anything. Judging by what Anya and Xander experienced, I’m tempted to think they suffered war wounds.”

“Buffy told me she saw me turn to dust,” Spike offered and Giles looked to the pair swiftly in surprise.

“Did she? I suppose that was when you first held his hand, Buffy, and they burst into flame?”

Buffy nodded, but said nothing further.

“And what exactly is my heart’s desire?” Spike quirked a brow and tilted his head to the side, giving a look to Buffy which made her shiver, but she refused to look back at him and he understood that he had really hurt her by appearing interested in the other woman. He remembered returning to Sunnydale, after finding that she hadn’t passed the Gem of Amara on to Angel during his lengthy torture session, to rip out her heart and send it in a box to his Sire. Not only did he feel queasy now at that thought, but he suddenly felt the need to apologise to Peaches, particularly after that speech earlier about never having hated him.

“Sorry about the torture las’ week mate. You know I didn’ mean it right?” Spike aimed a hopeful smile at Angel and received a delighted laugh.

“Spike, I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t forgive you for that. Angelus taught you well.”

All eyes suddenly narrowed at both vampires and they shared an awkward and guilty moment as they squirmed in their seats. Right then, don’t mention the poof’s alter ego, or torture methods. Check!

“She didn’t know that part.” Giles pulled the rooms attention back to the previous question. “The actual reward, but I think it must have something to do with Buffy.” Giles turned to Tara. “Do you have any idea what might have happened, Tara?”

Tara blushed at being asked something so influential in front of the whole gang, but nervous though she may be, she was confident in her abilities and interpretation.

“I saw the joining of their souls. They belong together.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No way.”

Xander and Angel both stood angrily and shouted at the witch who shrank back, afraid that she had obviously said something terrible.

Giles stared at the two, resigned that he felt Tara was indeed right in what she saw. He knew something had changed. He just didn’t know what.

“Buffy, do you have anything to add?”

Buffy felt angry at Spike, but even more importantly, she felt angry with herself. She didn’t understand what had come over her since coming across Spike’s collapsed form under the tree, but it would obviously be a mistake on her part if she let it take over her now without further attempts to understand what had brought the soul to Spike. She felt slowness was not only needed but imperative if she was to keep her heart attached, and she could not forget, no matter how she tried, that he didn’t believe her love at the end anyway. It felt like a rejection, and that, teamed with his come hither smirk at Anya, had hurt her and put her on the defensive.

“I saw some kind of battle, sorry Wills, you guys were nowhere in sight. Oh, but I think I did see Faith,” she remembered with a gasp. Buffy started to feel a desperation to get her account over and done with so she could get out of there. “Anyway, Spike suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, told me that he could feel his soul, and then turned to dust from the sunlight as the building around us collapsed. Oh!” She jumped in her seat excitedly. “It looked like the Hellmouth, and there were these really, really ugly vamps turning to dust all around us. Also, there were a couple of dead girls lying on the ground they had weapons and Giles,” she looked to him questioningly. “They looked like Slayers.” She was done. Buffy refused to say any more. The love stuff was personal, and she wasn’t going to put herself on the line or in the line of fire for no man, or vampire. If there was anything there between them then she would work it out with Spike, if she ever decided he deserved to speak to her again. That kiss was obviously just a fluke. Besides, he wasn’t ever getting that close again. Just like that she could feel the walls around her heart rebuild, and she was glad for it. She had been in danger of falling for her enemy, and it was about time she remembered who she was.

She was, after all, the Vampire Slayer.

Xander and Angel had not resumed their seats during her explanation and despite the friendly remarks the two vampires had exchanged earlier, Angel was obviously not willing to allow anyone in the room, particularly the bleached vampire, to believe his soul was anyone’s but his own. Oh no, no soul attaching to Buffy. If anyone’s soul belonged to Buffy, it would be his.

“In my vision, it was pretty obvious that Spike was my champion. If Spike hadn’t sacrificed himself then I believe we would have lost the war. He saved us.” Her voice held no enthusiasm, and she continued to refuse to look at Spike.

“Oh, and Spike said that those commando guys I’ve seen around kidnapped him and did something to his head. I vote we check into it tomorrow. I’m going home.”

Without looking at the dumbfounded expressions on everyone’s faces she got to her feet and headed to the door. “Willow, come with? And Tara? Are you on campus to?”

At the pretty blonde’s nervous and confused nod Willow rose to her feet. “Sure Buff, we’re right behind you. Bye.” Willow gave a little finger wiggle wave and the two girls were out the door after Buffy.

“Well, that was confusing,” Anya stated. “Though I think she has the right idea. Come on Xander, I think we should also go back to bed!” Xander jumped up with a funny cough and raced to the door with Anya’s hand in his, and like the girls before him, they were gone.

“Right. Don’ suppose I could get some more blood, Watcher. Right knackered myself.” Spike had watched sadly as Buffy left, knowing that he would have some ground to make up, even though for the life of him he couldn’t work out why he felt it was so important to prove to Buffy that he wasn’t interested in Anya.

“Y…yes. I’ll just go get that for you, shall I?”

Two vampires were left alone in the room.

“Don’t even think about it Spike. She’s needs something better than the both of us.”
 

Chapter Eight

Angel and Spike hadn’t moved since the moment Giles went to retrieve a mug of blood. Nor had they spoken. Angel had retreated into his own introspection. He felt torn between his pleasure at seeing Buffy again, obviously well and still alive without his protection, but also annoyance of those very same things. He didn’t want to examine too closely the reasons behind his disappointment that Buffy could handle her own without him.

It wasn’t until Giles returned and handed the mug of blood to Spike that Angel realised that his Childe’s body was trembling. It had been a big night so far, and though he was putting on a brave face, Angel well remembered the effect of receiving a soul out of the blue. Even though it was still not clear how Spike’s soul came into being, it would take some getting used to. However much a hero Spike might be in the future, it did not help him acclimatise to his new circumstances in the present. Angel noticed his eyes glass over and realised that now that they were virtually alone, Spike appeared to be going into shock. For only a moment did Angel ponder why he found it so easy to believe why Spike would have been a hero. He still remembered his heroic deeds with Drusilla for many mortal lifetimes, and how could he ever forget the betrayal of his own Childe as he himself tried to pull the world into a permanent pit of darkness. He knew Spike was capable of great feats. That he could be brave and courageous, as well as rash and foolhardy. He just felt sick and resentful that Buffy seemed to be the impetus of the transformation and the realisation of Spike’s potential.

Well, he was no longer the only souled vamp in town, and as he was responsible for creating this vamp in particular, he was responsible for his acclimatisation as well. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the Powers That Be wanted him in on the whole scene. Was it a punishment, or simply another opportunity for achieving good? It never occurred to Angel to consider that his search for good acts to achieve his redemption was selfishly driven, and repentance was never acknowledged for those motives. His need to do good continually battled with his desire of reward, and it hadn’t yet occurred to him that Spike had obviously been heroic for far shorter a time frame, yet the Powers returned him to something potentially very special.

In the end, Angel’s concern was late at being expressed.

Giles placed a hand on Spikes shoulder to draw his attention from the cooling blood.

“Spike, perhaps you need to talk a little to make the situation become real for you. You probably are feeling like you are trapped in a television soap with all the surreal that has gone on tonight, but I can assure you that you are in my home, apparently with a soul, and according to Buffy, some other problem with the commando’s that we will investigate tomorrow. I realise that it was only last week that you were trying to kill Buffy, but I trust in Tara and her abilities.” Giles shot a quick look at Angel then chose his next words carefully. “I observed you earlier Spike, with Buffy. I saw a red mist surround you both, like some form of connection, or rather, a joining .” Spike stared at him intently, grateful that the Watcher did not mention the kissing form that the ’together’ took, as he really was not up to a thrash it out till the end, loser takes all moment with his Sire.

“You never mentioned this before Watcher. I think the Slayer might have wanted to know that.”

“In all the excitement it slipped my mind. I was not sure that she was ready to take that on as well as what Tara said. Nevertheless, I think it is highly possible that in the future something has occurred for you to be one with us in our cause. I won’t say for certain about what your relationship with Buffy consists of, but I think it might be important from what I have seen today. I will let you sort that out on your own and with her. As much as I disapprove of any dealings with you, and the thought of Buffy embroiled in another relationship with a vampire makes me shudder, I am willing to put aside my previous beliefs and feelings to get to the bottom of this and help you adjust. I can only believe that the Powers have sent you here for a reason, perhaps to prevent what happens to you in the future from happening again. But there is some purpose, of that you can be certain. We can try to find out more tomorrow. Like, how you got your soul, and if it is safe.”

“I tried to eat some students tonight.” Spikes voice was a tortured whisper as Giles and Angel were struck dumb and still. He didn’t dare raise his eyes as the gentle care that the Watcher had shown him in his little speech affected him deeply, but as yet he had not the tools to deal with the situation.

“It was before the soul thing hit me I guess. I went looking for the Slayer in her dorm, but no one was in. I guess Red was with the other Wicca. I found another girl and went to bite her when I had a shock in my skull and I couldn’ do it. As soon as I thought or tried to bite anyone, I felt the pain return. I’ve been wanderin' around all night tryin' to work it out, and then tryin' to hide from the soldiers. They’re trying to recapture me, I wager. Anyway, I felt this searing pain on the inside and a flash of light and I collapsed. I guess that’s where the Slayer found me. So, looks like I’m toothless. And the thought that I tried to eat people tonight makes me feel sick.”

Giles was stunned at this declaration, not really expecting to get so up and personal with a vampires eating habits, but even more so at the sight of this once proud Master vampire broken and crying on his sofa. He looked to Angel and found he didn’t understand the meaning behind the gleam in his eye, but was all right with it as it didn’t appear alarming, but almost soft.

“How long ago did they capture you?” Angel leaned in toward him.

“A few days I guess,” He answered, sniffling self-consciously and rubbing absently at his watery eyes.

“Is that how long since you’ve fed?”

“Roughly. Couldn’ take their blood. It was drugged so they could do experiments on me. Another vamp in the cell nex’ me said that he’d been fighten’ with the Slayer and nex’ thing he was in the cell. So I figured it was her fault I got caught, I was watching her fight at the time, and I escaped to get revenge. Bollixed that up right proper.” He barked an unamused, slightly tortured laugh before burying his head in his hands. And his body was back to shaking.

“I’m covered in blood. It won’ ever come off. Bloody Hell. Why didn’ you do us in Peaches, when you got your soul? You should’na let us go on killin’.” At his muffled, hurt words, Spike sobbed quietly.

Giles looked to Angel, transfixed by the recording opportunities of this story, not really ever having taken the chance to discuss the past with Angel, or even the repercussions of his returned soul. He was shocked to see tears in the elder vamps eyes. Angel reached forward and took Spike’s hand and squeezed it hard.

“I could never have done that William. I loved you all. My Sire, though she was cruel. My crazy Dru, my very own shameful responsibility. And never less William, I loved you. We were family. I may have killed my mortal family when I had no soul, but I could never have killed my immortal family with one. And now I am so very glad that I left you to survive, because look where you are now. You have been shined on by the greatest light of all, Buffy, and have achieved great things, or the Powers would never have given you a reward. You have achieved in the future William, and you have a great opportunity right now to make this soul retrieve all the good that you were. Spike, you may have murdered in the past, indeed I trained you to be one of the best, but you always had a good heart for those you loved. I have no doubt that whenever you got your soul it was because of that devotion in you. Finally, William, you are free.” Spike raised disbelieving eyes to his Sire, desperate hope churning in his gut, Buffy thoughts and dreams racing through his mind. Angel seemed so earnest. Angel put more pressure on his hand and smiled reassuringly and Spike decided to believe.

And Angel found his selflessness in repentance.
 

Chapter Nine

Buffy couldn’t decide if she should talk to Willow about what she saw, or just let it go. As the three girls walked briskly toward their dorm, Buffy zoned out of the conversation between the Wiccas and tried to fathom why she felt so lacerated by Spike’s flirty behaviour towards Anya. She hadn’t really had that much time to get to know the girl yet, but as far as an ex-vengeance demon went she seemed nice enough. What she still couldn’t get was her reactions –physical and emotional to Spike. One thing was certain enough; whatever happened in her future, he was important to her. In a big way.

“Wills,” Buffy called to the redhead who walked with an animated purpose while chatting to her fellow witch. “Is it possible to do some kind of spell, like a tag on thingy or something, to Spike’s soul, so that maybe I could see the circumstances for it returning to him in a different time period?”

“You mean you want to see into the future and find out why you’re all with the touchy feelies with the vampiness?” Willow questioned nervously.

Buffy stopped walking and turned to contemplate her friend.

“I can’t explain it, Wills. Something happened to me tonight when I found him. Something way, way wiggy, but I need to work it out before I feel like I can talk about it. It would just help to know why the future me came to depend so much on him. I need to understand why I feel so drawn to him all of a sudden.”

Willow looked at Tara in anguish, knowing that she could help but also knowing that Willow herself, and possibly Buffy, wasn’t going to like what the other girl had to say. Then again, Buffy had been holding Spike’s hand earlier, and didn’t seem to wig over that. With a hesitant nod, Willow encouraged Tara to step forward with her theories.

“U-um B-Buffy?” Tara’s courage seemed short-lived so Buffy gave her a warm encouraging smile.

“Tara, it’s ok. I know you think that Spike and I belong together, and boy is that a concept that is so beyond believable, but I think I did see enough in my vision to sort of believe you.” Both girls gaped.

“What did you see to make you believe that?” Willow couldn’t hold back her surprise. “I mean, I know he is hot and all, but Buffy, he’s a vampire.”

“What?” Tara gasped, shocked.

Buffy looked at her for a minute before replying.

“Willow didn’t fill you in yet on the night life in Sunnydale, huh?”

Tara turned to the girl beside her, eyes wide in comprehension, and shook her head almost accusingly. “Willow?”

Willow giggled self-consciously. “Surprise?”

Buffy snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Sorry Tara. There are lots of creatures around here that go bump in the night, and ones you don’t want to do the bumping with, um, that was a little more suggestive than I was going for.” And she trailed off thinking of the bleached blonde that she would die to do some bumping with. “Anywho, Spike is a vampire who for the past two years has been trying to kill me, and came real close to doing it a few times. Particularly last week over the whole Gem thingy. You’d kinda think I would hold a grudge for that, wouldn’t ya?” Buffy raised an eyebrow as she questioned her two walking companions. They had reached Buffy and Willow’s room and continued inside, envying the quiet of the building that indicated that all sane girls and boys went to sleep hours ago.

“Back to the vision.” Buffy collapsed on her bed, not even removing her shoes. She had made a decision to share, knowing that it was fair to offer some kind of explanation for her behaviour tonight before Willow decided it best to commit her to the loony bin. Not wanting to see any possible looks of disgust in Willow’s eyes, however, she chose to stare at the ceiling while telling her story. “While we were standing in the cavern and Spike was turning into a really impressive light show, I held his hand and then they seemed to catch on fire.”

Tara’s eyes flicked to her reclining form in a sudden raging interest. Willow hadn’t yet seemed to pick up on the importance of the bond.

“He wouldn’t leave with me, told me he could see his soul and that it was beautiful. I told him that I loved him and begged him to leave, but he said he had to stay and finish it. He didn’t believe me, Willow. He thanked me for saying it but that I didn’t mean it then told me to get out.” Willow was alarmed at the distress in her friend’s voice, but the sight of tears falling silently from the emotional girl was enough to coax her into sitting by her on the bed. Buffy grabbed her hand and turned sad, green eyes to her best friend. “Why do they leave, Will? I don’t understand it and I can barely believe it, but I know that what I told him at the end was the truth. I did love him then, but he didn’t believe me.” Buffy had started to sob and Willow encased her in her arms, remembering another similar moment not so long ago when Angel had left town. After the disaster that was Parker, Willow had a feeling that this rejection of her in the future could take an unnatural hold on Buffy and pull her away from her destiny, simply because she feared to give her heart. Not good to get an absolute of rejection before the time had even come to fall in love.

“Ah…Buffy…I-I th-think I might know what ha-happened.”

Buffy turned to the nervous girl with hope. “You do?” She abandoned Willow and went to kneel in front of Tara. “Please tell me,” she begged. The little irritation her body had been feeling since leaving Spike’s presence was building slowly so that now her body was almost reverberating with repetitive chills that wouldn’t let her flesh rest, simply because she was away from him. She felt like something was missing and she was almost frantic to get it back.

Tara stroked her hair and took one of Buffy’s small hands before looking her in the eye. “When you held his hand and told him you loved him?” Her voice was calm and confident, like it had been earlier in the evening when she had forgotten the presence of all of Willow’s friends. Buffy nodded her head, eager to hear something that could explain this terrible yearning in her gut for cold, strong arms to encircle her through the night. “Buffy, your love bonded you together. He was right, though, he had to finish what he was doing, but I think he told you he didn’t believe you so that he could get you out and make sure you lived.” The tears fell in great torrents from her eyes now, and her breath was heaving, but Buffy struggled on to keep control and not submit to the sob fest that she was so heading for.

“But what about future Buffy? She, I mean me, um, I will, would, you know what I mean, devastated, in some capacity.” Buffy waved her arms avidly in the air, trying to indicate something but was too confused to work out what. “He leaves, me, her, and she’ll, ah I’ll, um, think he didn’t believe me. God, I am so confused.” Buffy rubbed a hand over her eyes in exhaustion. “Oh, oh,” she jumped to her feet in agitation. “And what was the point of rewarding him to come back here when he just has to turn right back around and do the great flambé act, deny my declarations, and go poof?” She ended with a dramatic snapping of her fingers in Willow’s stunned, but amused face.

“Um, Buff, hate to tell you after that eloquent appraisal of your future self and all her devastation, but with Spike’s future soul now lodged in the present Spike God only knows how many years early then the future will probably be altered.” Willow finished with a confident grin.

“Huh?” Buffy replied with complete incomprehension causing the Willow grin to falter. There was just no explaining a temporal paradox, or the mechanics of time travel, to some people.

“What she means, sweetie,” Tara began with an indulgent smile, “is that now this Spike has a soul your reaction to him will be different and so events could very well unfold in a completely different direction.”

“See,” Willow leapt onto the train and rode it in. “Whatever apocalypse Spike saved us all from, might not even occur.” She was triumphant and pumped her fist in the air.

Buffy just stared at her, a look of horror beginning to penetrate her features.

“But Will, what if it’s all the same? What if getting his soul put the world out of balance and caused the apocalypse in the first place? Bringing it here might bring it on in a week instead of years from now. That’s why I need to see the future so that I can be ready and make sure we all stay fine. Make sure that I don’t lose him again.”

Willow spluttered at the last statement.

Tara contemplated for a moment.

“I don’t know of actual spells where you can see the future, though I’m sure that they exist. I do know of ones where you can travel back in time. We could try a spell to trace the past of Spike's soul. Which would really be his future.” Willow and Buffy looked at her in awe.

“Wow...” Willow breathed, completely blown away by the concept. “Buffy, we’ll look into it tomorrow. Now I think we should try and get some sleep. Tara, do you want to stay here?”

“Thanks Willow, b-but I-I-I think I should be getting back to m-my own room. I- I’ll see you in the morning to help you look for the spell. Everything will be fine Buffy. What I-I saw of Spike’s and your Aura, it’s all really, really good.” She winked at Buffy, missing her flush as she swept out the door.

“So, did ya kiss him?” Willow bounced back on to Buffy’s bed where the girl had again collapsed and perched delicately on the edge.

“Oh my God, Willow. It was amazing. Spike lips. Mmmm.” Buffy flopped back on her pillow with quite a goofy, ‘lost in the moment’ grin. Willow chuckled then moved back to her own bed, climbing under the covers in relief, realising her friend was already immersed in the mysteries of Spike and unlikely to emerge. She'd better just get used to it and accept it so that her friend didn't feel guilty.

"Oh Buffy, but what about Riley?"

"Hmm? Oh Spike's lips are much better." Buffy remained distracted, thinking of said lips but progressing quickly to images of that tongue.

Supine, they quickly surrendered to sleep.

“You’re one hell of a woman. You’re the one Buffy.” She dreamed of a strange house wrapped in the arms of a protector, her heart thudding hard as her breast rested in sleep against his chest. Close.

For the first time in what felt like years, Buffy Summers slept with a happy, happy smile plastered on her face.
 

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