Disclaimer: All Hail Joss and Co., blah blah blah. Obviously I do not own Mutant Enemy or any of the characters, I’m just a lowly follower with a dream

Pairing: B/S, A/C, X/A, W/T

Rating: PG-13. Honestly, just around the kind of stuff you see on the show

Author’s Note: I wrote this in December after watching bits and pieces of "Wrecked" so my characterization of Rack isn’t completely right, but hey, artistic liscense!

Chapter One: Shadows and Pool

She hated when he was right.

She hated him the majority of the time, but none so much as when he stood in front of her, smirk in place, head cocked, rolling out her fearful truths in his lazy accent.

"You came back wrong."

"Things are different between you and me now Slayer"

"You’re gonna crave me the way I crave blood."

And it was all true, especially the last bit. Why else would she be there, watching him play pool from the shadowy darkness of the Bronze?

She, on the other hand, could not seem to stop lying. To herself, to her friends, to him.

Reassuring the Scoobies that after all that happened, she was fine.

Demanding him to stay away from her and Dawn, even though she knew she would never wish that.

Reminding herself that despite feeling all the coldness in her body thaw just by being near him, she was there not because she wanted to be.

She knew she should have gone up to him right away to give him her usual brusque, rude greeting. That was a lot less dangerous than lingering in the darkness, marveling at the fluidity of his movements as he sexily sauntered about the pool table and squinted as he leaned forward with his pool rod for the kill. She would have given anything to be able to ignore the way his beautiful muscles tensed underneath the layers of black leather and cotton as he lurched forward suddenly, cat-like, to snap the ball in the pocket.

And she almost felt like their roles had been reversed. She imagined this is what it probably felt like for him, guarded by the secure shadows of the large oak outside her window. She imagined in earlier days, he stood feeling the same mixture of disgust and hopeless fascination that sent waves of chills through the chest the way she did. She waited until he finally got the eight ball in the corner pocket before rushing up to his black-clad back.

"Spike."

She saw him stiffen. The sound of her voice always had the same effect on him, sending warmth throughout his cold body. Whether the warmth be rage, amusement, or frenzied need, his undead body temp raised a degree or so at the sound of her voice. He turned slowly, curling his lip up in his characteristic way.

"Slayer," he growled. "And what can I do for you duchess? Although I’m sure I already know."

"Look Spike I need-"

"Yeah I know what you need, luv," Spike said, his wicked smile growing larger and larger. "And it took only a week for you to come running to me to get it too. Figured you for a stronger lot, Slayer." He strode up to her seductively, so close that she could feel her own flushed, raging warmth being cooled by his body, just inches away. He raised a hand to caress her cheek, grinning at how her breathing became more ragged and shallow. Just before he touched her, Buffy’s hand flew automatically to catch him.

"Don’t start, Spike." Buffy gritted her teeth.

Chuckling, he backed away. "Oh here we go. Diving right into the verbal clashing which leads to the fists flying, which in turn leads to, as I’ve happily found out . . ." He gave her a wicked wink. "Other things."

Buffy sighed. "Spike, this really is more of a business call."

"Oh is it? Well how come your devoted groupies aren’t here then? They usually accompany you on all your crime-solving capers."

"They’re busy. Looking for Dawn."

Hearing the emphasis placed on the last little word, some of the hard irony drained from Spike’s face.

"That’s why I’m here. I thought she might be at the Bronze, and the I saw you and figured I’d ask since, well, Dawn is strangely and twistedly drawn to you."

"Not the only Summers girl to be doing that now is she?" Spike couldn’t help muttering. Seeing this was going nowhere, Buffy turned to abruptly leave when Spike grabbed the sleeve of her leather coat and looked her in the eyes as she turned.

"Wait Slayer, I’m comin’ with."

Chapter 2: A Night With Possibilities

"We can take the bike." Spike said, referring to a beaten down motorcycle parked in front of the Bronze.

"Bike?" Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What happened to your old Desoto?"

"Old girl finally decided she had enough and broke down on me a while ago." Spike quipped. "Filched this from an unsuspecting banker with a mid-life crisis." He straddled the bike and revved the engine. "Well hop on!" he said, referring to the hesitant slayer.

"What about helmets?" Buffy asked, pulling her jacket around herself tighter.

Spike snorted. "Fine time to play Ms. Sunnydale Safety Princess. Not a very practical thing to be with the slayer night job and all." He sighed. "Didn't have time to nick the helmets. You'll just have do without and hold tight onto to me."

Buffy whirled around to see if he was smirking, but only met his serious eyes, filled with concern over Dawn. She slipped onto the bike and gingerly wound her arms around Spike's waist, trying to ignore how nicely firm and strong it felt. Spike also gulped when he felt Buffy's small hands grasping at his sides and was glad when the thick silence was filled by the rushing wind whipping around them.

"So where are we headed?" Buffy yelled over the wind and engine, breaking the silence.

"Thought we might look around town for awhile. Trust the little bugger to pull a stunt like this. She used to do this a lot you know."

Buffy was slightly irritated that Spike seemed to know her sister better than she did. "Used to do what?"

"Go tromping off, leaving us to go on a wild goose chase trying to find her. She did it a lot when you di---- were gone."

Buffy immediately stiffened and felt Spike do the same in her arms. She knew the little correction was just as much for him as it was for her and she was grateful. "Where would she go?" Buffy asked, softer this time.

Spike sighed, hating to remember the time when the woman whose touch was currently making him swoon was buried six feet under. "To the graveyard mostly. Would visit you and your mum's tombstones a lot, just sittin there, bawlin' her eyes out." Spike's voice became strangled, remembering all the times he visited Buffy's gravesite as well. One of the first times Dawn had disappeared, Spike found her there, crying. He sat and silently cried with her for hours until the first glimmers of sunlight and it was only by Dawn's insistence that he ducked into his crypt before combusting completely.

Buffy felt the salty tears blur her eyes as well. "Poor Dawn," she murmured, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and neck.

"Yeah well," Spike cleared his throat, "Sometimes she'd just wander all over town, muttering and crying, the silly git she is. I thought we would look for her doing that since . . . well she doesn't have much reason to go the graveyard anymore."

"She could be visiting Mom."

"No, she's so much happier since you've been back Buffy. I can't think why she'd go and do a bloody stupid thing like this. You two not getting along?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't even know. She's still not talking to Willow and I ---- well I don't know how to deal with that."

"Then she's probably just blowin' off some steam," Spike encouraged. "She's probably just taken a walk or something. If we can't find her, we'll head back to my crypt to see if she's there."

Buffy nodded. She always felt comforted by Spike in moments like these. Other times, he could so infuriating that Buffy felt inclined to let Mr. Pointy have a say in the matter, but in times like these, she found it impossible to hate him. He didn't have to say much, or even do much, but his silence gave to her more comfort than Willow's bumbling questions of concern or Xander's snappy witticisms could ever give.

Spike was aware that Buffy's arms were beginning to curl tighter around his waist and he felt he was about to pop from the desire to just pull over and drag her into a patch of soft grass and attack her with his hungry lips and kisses. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 3: A Long Night Gets Longer

It’s been a long night, Buffy thought as she and Spike entered his crypt, three hours later. Between searching the street for Dawn, disposing of a few stray demons and vamps here and there, and withstanding the strained awkwardness between Spike and herself, she was exhausted. "DAWN? DAWN ARE YOU HERE?" she yelled through Spike’s dank crypt.

Spike went downstairs to check if Dawn was there and to get a pack of cigarettes. "She’s not here." He informed Buffy when he came back up.

Buffy sighed and collapsed onto a ratty couch. Spike raised an eyebrow, expecting her to be out the door immediately, but was trying to disguise his pleasure that she seemed to be staying.

"I don’t know what to do about her." Buffy said, aware that she should have left moments ago, but was too fatigued to do so.

Here we go, Spike thought. She’s gonna expect me to sit here and listen as she whines about all her problems and pretend like nothing happened between us. Spike lit a cigarette with contempt. He was tired of being Buffy’s shoulder to cry on whenever she damned well thought she needed it and then being told he was a monster every time she had a temper tantrum. Secretly, he knew he would rather have Buffy trust him enough to let him into her problems, which she more than deserved to reflect upon and let out than nothing, but now he couldn’t hide his bitterness at the knowledge that he was simply a human punching bag for her.

"Nibblet you mean?" he asked, trying to conceal his impatience with indifference.

Buffy hardly heard the change. "I think she’s upset with me because I have no time for her all. I try, but I just have way too much to do."

"You?" Spike asked with mock shock as he lazily lit up a cigarette. "A college dropout without a job who somehow maintains a killer wardrobe?"

"You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about Spike." Buffy’s voice rose in hardened anger although she could tell he was kidding. "My life is so many different levels of busy that a lazy-ass, soap-opera obsessed vamp like you couldn’t understand." She frowned and started pacing, verbally outlining all of her duties. "There’s Willow, for one thing. Her magic withdrawals have got so bad that she needs someone to just sit with her to get through them. And with Dawn goose stepping every time she gets near Willow’s room, I’m the only one who’s up for the job."

"Babysitting Red isn’t a real job luv." Spike snorted.

Buffy ignored him. "Then there’s the Magic Box, which Anya seems to be neglecting with all the wedding plans. I’m working there without pay since Anya is so possessive of the money. And then there’s my sulking sister who gets herself reliably in trouble just so that she can brag that her sister, the Slayer will bail her out of it. Oh YEAH, and there’s the whole saving-the-world-from-the-Hellmouth bit, which is not exactly an easy feat. I’ve got the whole twice dead thing to affirm that."

Spike paused when he could see the pure hurt that lied behind Buffy’s eyes. He knew how raw she still felt after being brought back and despite all the fronts that she promptly put back up, insisting that she was over it, he knew that she felt as scared as she did then, tearing her way up from beneath the ground. He decided to probe further.

"Yeah well at least you still have so much available time to whine about it don’t you luv?"

Buffy stiffened. Frustratedly throwing up her arms, she felt that old familiar flaming anger boil within her. It was a feeling that only Spike could evoke. "You know what Spike? I don’t need to justify myself to you."

"Yeah you don’t. But I think you need to justify it to yourself."

Buffy cocked her head. "What would you know about it Spike?"

"I know that you weren’t telling me all of your laundry list of things to do because you thought I cared. It’s cause you you’re trying to convince yourself that you do."

Buffy hesitated. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "Face it Buff. These things have been on your mind. And you’re not too happy about them. You’re asking yourself why you even bother doing them when you don’t want to."

"I do them because I have to," Buffy gritted. "They’re my responsibility. I don’t have a choice in the matter. I haven’t had a choice in the matter ever since I became the slayer."

"You know that, but you don’t feel it anymore. You always knew that you had a duty, which was hard. But now that you’ve had a taste of being free from your responsibilities, from the drudgery of duty, it makes it all the more hard and hurtful to do it." Spike gazed deeply into Buffy’s eyes, which were a telltale blurry hazel. God, how he wanted to go up to her and wipe away the tears and envelop her in his strong arms and tell her everything was fine. But he knew she wouldn’t let him do that.

Buffy swallowed down the remaining tears as she continued to stare into his blue orbs. The look of concern, passionate, yet tender, she found in them sent shivers throughout her body. She locked her hands behind her back in order to hide the fact that they were shaking. Why the hell could he always be so on the nose about everything? She had gone through life always pushing the persistent, nagging thoughts deep down until they arose to tear apart anything she truly wanted.

Riley. Angel. She pushed them away because deep down, she knew that her duty as the Slayer came first, even though every fiber in her being had said to try to make it work. But with Spike, nothing needed to be dug up. He already seemed to know her through and through and accepted her role as the Slayer, and had admiration for that role. Not like Riley, who felt only intimidation, or Angel, who felt it was a barrier for their relationship.

And that’s what scared her most. That Spike seemed to love the places and spaces of Buffy where Riley and Angel couldn’t--- the darkness, the lightness, the hardness, the softness, the woman, the slayer. That Spike---he could be the one. The one Buffy knew Riley would never be and the one even Angel couldn’t be. And the fact that it was Spike---smirking, insulting, disgusting Spike, Spike who had consistently tried to kill her for four years . . . well that scared the hell out of her.

"Buffy?" Spike inched towards her, concerned at her silence. He lightly touched her shoulder, and backed up in frustration when she immediately jumped. "God, Buffy!"

"What do you want from me Spike?" Buffy asked agonizingly, hearing the tone of impatience in his voice.

"Everything, Slayer." Spike lunged back at her and grabbed her arms before she could jump away again. Yet he just as soon backed away again when he saw the confused, wounded look in her Buffy’s eyes. ". . . And nothing."

"Then that’s just what you got comin’ to you," Buffy said as she hurriedly began to gather her coat and walk towards the door. She hoped, though, that he would stop her before that happened.

"Buffy, wait."

Chapter 4: Truth and Lies

There it was. She turned, putting on her best ice queen face. Seeing it, Spike took a brief, sharp intake of air. "Never mind," he muttered.

Buffy shifted uncomfortably and disappointedly. She turned around again to make her exit but Spike just as soon tried to find something to get her to stay.

"I’m not your girlfriend, Buffy."

"What?" She whirled around quickly. She laughed harshly. "I never thought you were. I prefer my girlfriends much less testosterone-inclined."

"I mean it. I’m not your friend," he snarled, stalking up to her. "I’m not one of your lovable Scoobies you set up pity party with." It hurt him to say that, knowing that he would take all he could get, just as long as she was near him. But he had to do what he could to retain some of the dignity he had left. "I told you I’m not gonna be your whipping boy anymore, and I meant it."

Buffy clenched her jaw tightly. "Don’t flatter yourself Spike," she said, her voicing rising in volume. "You don’t need to worry about me visiting you anymore, as long as you stay the hell away from me!" God, that was so tired, she thought.

"Fine!" He yelled.

"FINE!" She yelled back.

Suddenly there was a tangle of arms and lips. Crushing her body hard against his, Buffy hungrily tore at his lips, grasping at his shoulders, then curling her arms around his neck and her legs around his. Spike was in turn grasping her arms, pushing her closer and closer, losing himself in the scent of her hair and the taste of her tongue. "Buffy . . ." he panted, as he broke away to kiss her neck that she arched back for that sole purpose. His hands crept down from Buffy’s neck to graze ever so softly on her breasts. She sighed and moaned slightly at his touch, but her sounds were smothered by his mouth on hers. Her hands crept down his sides to tear his shirt from his jeans in a crazed, deliriously passionate manner. Suddenly she flew back to her panic-filled senses and gave him a push that sent him flying.

"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled as he crashed into a pillar.

" We can’t do this . . . again," Buffy said firmly, trying to convince herself more than him.

"And why the hell not?" Spike sniggered as he lankly walked up to her, snaking an arm around her waist and drawing her close. She pushed away again and struggled to gather her things.

"Buffy . . ."

"NO SPIKE. Please, please, can we not talk about this right now?" Buffy’s voice audibly wavered.

"When then Buffy?" Spike asked irately. "When were we going to talk about the fact that we slept together?" Buffy twitched at the words. "When it happens again? You come crawling into my bed when you get pissed off at the bitlet at home or when Red slips up with the magic again? Then leave me in the morning as abruptly as you came with only a slap in the face and a kick in the bum? I told you I’m not playing that game anymore Buffy."

"What do you want from want from me Spike?" Buffy asked for the second time, but with more insistence, more meaning.

"I want you to admit that this-" Spike waved at the air in between him and Buffy. "This… it means something to you, because I know it does. You can be the Archduchess of denial, but you can’t deny something as strong as this."

Buffy stared and probed into Spike’s dark, endless eyes. God, she could let herself get lost in them forever, if she wanted. "It’s wrong."

Spike lost it, running over to leave a dusty hole in the wall of his crypt with his fist, yelling with fury the whole time. "BLOOODDDY HELL, woman, why do you have to be so goddamn’ predictable??!!"

"You don’t have a soul." Buffy’s voice remained at a constant softness.

"Oh are we at the part where you tell me the 65820 reasons why this is wrong?" Spike sighed.

"You’re a vampire. A world famous vampire. One from the bloodline of the Master. I’m the slayer. Add it up, you don’t get a good result."

"It’s an equation I remember you trying once before."

"That’s the exactly the point! It didn’t end good----It ended up hellish in fact. Why do you think this---" Buffy imitated Spike’s movements, "would end up any different?"

"I’m insulted that you compare me to the likes of Ol’ Poofter."

"Well the similarities are striking, you know. Pointy teethed, liquidy diet."

"Still it’s like comparing apples and oranges. Like comparing a marvelously, extraordinarily delicious apple to a rotten orange."

Buffy sighed. "Well it’s true that you two can’t be compared. You two are really individuals. Angel is a good, upright citizen with a soul, whereas you are a bottomless pit of evil."

"We all caught up on that again, are we? Me with the no-soul?"

"Well yeah Spike, that is kind of a biggie. And don’t tell me that that little metal plate is a makeshift soul because that is so lame."

Spike grinned. "Look ducks, you and I know it. Even without this soddin’ chip embedded in my skull, I’m a good man at heart."

"You don’t have a heart and no we don’t know that," Buffy shot back.

"Love changed me, Buffy," Spike said, more serious this time.

"Oh please." Buffy laughed, her laughter cut with sarcasm. "You were in love with Drusilla for over a hundred years and you killed thousands and thousands of people."

"Well considering Dru was the one to turn me, I wouldn’t cite that as a healthy relationship."

"And this is??" Buffy gaped with incredulous irony. "Face it Spike, this ‘relationship’ is as twisted as they come. All that’s between us has been death threats and murder attempts sprinkled with verbal and physical sparring and . . . " She sighed as she said it, "A one-night stand."

"A one-night stand." Spike repeated disdainfully. "Is that what it was? Then tell me, do one-night stands provide so much temptation that you got to hang bloody garlic strings from your window? If this is a bloody one-night stand, why is it that you can’t seem to keep away from me?"

Buffy laughed again, a harsher, more spiteful laugh. "Me keep away from you? You make me sound like the lovesick puppy here. I’m not the one who as recently as last year had me chained and shocked with a cattle prod."

Spike lowered his head. "You know I was a totally different person then."

"You were? You said you loved me, which is the same as you’re claiming now."

"Well yes . . . but I loved you in a different way then. I hated loving you, it was like a bloody disease. I was just getting over being just another neutered baddie, and to suddenly wake up and love you . . . well it was a soddin’ disgrace, it was."

"This is self-redeeming why?"

"What I’m sayin is, I was just tryin to get back at you for plaguing me, my heart, my whole undead being. I was ready to stake myself before you shot through my heart like some bloody poison. It made me feel just all the more desperate for wanting something I could never have, especially something that I had hated for so long. But now . . . it’s too late Buffy. It’s gone too deep. I can’t deny my feelings for you anymore or try to force you to love me." Spike chuckled. "And you can’t very well blame me for that whole chained up thing. It had been years since I’ve ‘wooed’ a girl and my more sociable attempts backfired miserably. And with Dru bein’ my only relationship since, I wasn’t very prepared to handle the situation gracefully." Turning to face Buffy’s stoic face, his head drooped a bit to conceal a smirk.

"The point is, I love you in a totally different way now. I know not to push, I know that you might never love me, and I accept that. I could be happy just to watch you from afar, Buffy. It might seem desperate, but like I told you once before, just loving you makes me feel like a man." Then he turned and looked at her and she could see there was no sense of pleading in his declaration of love, only pure devotion. For that one moment she wanted to forget, wanted to let herself go and free herself from the self made walls she had created to keep him out. She could almost see reflected in his eyes her own, full of want, need and confusion.

Spike recognized the look and then a gleam of hope erupted through his non-existent heart. Then, suddenly he just looked very tired.

"But you won’t let me do that Slayer. You keep leaving these traces of hope that I can feed upon, then taking them away. You keep playing with my head, letting believe that there’s a chance for us. And then the next day, you go back, full bitch mode and leave me out in the cold." Spike neared her once more, so close that he could feel her shaking. "Buffy, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me, just once and finally. Tell me that you feel nothing for me, that you can’t spare me a crumb . . . and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll still help you with Dawn and all the rest of the soddin’ Scoobies, but I’ll never speak to you about my feelings again. I’ll accept."

Buffy felt for the thousandth time that evening tears well up in her eyes. A slayer’s supposed to stronger than this, she thought. But then again why? Why? And How? How could she shut him out again, with him standing in front of her pouring everything he felt out? How could she when he was being so goddamn earnest and looking like such a lost, helpless, gorgeous child? She had seen him sullen and broken after Dru had left, but she had never seen him as vulnerable as this. And she wanted him so badly. Not only her body, but her heart as well. She wanted him to touch her him both places so deeply and forget all about her death, her mom, her sister, her friends. She wanted to feel.

"I---I want something normal." Trust her to avoid the question entirely and struggle to keep her defenses up. She thought Spike might explode, but his head dropped and he rubbed his eyes with pure exhaustion. He expected her to do something like this, to not let herself be so truthful yet, so he played along.

"Define normal," he sighed

She sank back into the couch. "The 2.5 kids, the picket fence, the husband with the briefcase, me in the apron with the apple pie."

"You think you’ll be able to balance that pie while you’re busy staking all those vamps?" Spike said in his most sardonic voice as he collapsed beside her. "You can never wish for normalcy, pet, not when you’re a world-renowned slayer. Besides, you had normal. Captain Cardboard for anyone else would be a one-in-a million boyfriend. A smart kid with super-human strength-for awhile, at least--- and a sweet job working undercover for the government. Anyone else would think he was bloody cartoon. But to you, he was normal. He could never match up to you because he had no comprehension of being a slayer meant. The finest line between life and death, the rush you get from not only walking, but running back and forth on that line. He could never understand your darkness, Slayer, and I don’t think even Poof was willing to understand that. But I am."

He moved to crouch in front of Buffy. He tenderly, without any intention to make it seductive, cupped her cheek in his hand. "And that’s not to say that I imagine you completely dark. I know how you can a bloody, beautiful goody-two shoes. But I accept that dark side to you because I accept you as the slayer. You can’t separate that from your personality. It’s who you are." Buffy leaned into his hand, relishing at how soft it felt. She shuddered into it, not only because she knew that deep down, there was truth to his words, but also because of the unnerving blueness of his eyes and the soft fullness of his lips.

This is what she feared the most. The moment when all was silent, when all the verbal tete-a-tete was exhausted and all that was left was the two of them, gazing deep into each eyes and so close, yet at the same times, still too far, to accept the truth between them. Even scarier, Buffy didn’t care anymore. She simply wanted to give in to the tension and forget who she was. Forget that she was the slayer and that he . . . well, that he was Spike, and only acknowledge this buzz of electricity between them. She paused to gaze into his eyes once more, then slowly leaned forward and grasped the neck of his shirt to drag him into a kiss. Her tongue probed his mouth, tasting the soft bitterness of nicotine and smoke. She groaned his name softly and she could feel him smile under her lips. She arched towards him, letting him explore the sweetest parts of her mouth. She ran her hands through his hair, softer than she thought it would be, and dragged him towards her, kicking his duster off feverishly. He carefully lowered himself towards Buffy and took her in his arms. She limply wrapped herself around him, burying her head into the crook of his neck and legs around his waist, moaning softly. With her like that, it was quite simple to pick her up amid a fury of kisses and lips and lower her onto the bed.

Chapter 5: The Morning After

Buffy winked the rays of sun off her eyelashes as she awoke the next morning. Gasping, she suddenly sat up. "Dawn!"

"Mmmgh, is ‘alright luv, the crypt offers good shelter from the dawn," a tousled, naked, groggy vampire drawled out as he turned to look at the alarmed Slayer sitting next to him in bed.

"No Evil Dead, Dawn. As in my sister Dawn. I can’t believe we forgot all about her!"

"Well we were a bit tied up luv," Spike said, smiling wickedly. Buffy shot him a glance to signify that this wasn’t the time. She got up and began picking up her strewn clothes. "Where’s my other boot?" she poked the now fully conscious Spike who draped the bed sheets around his body as a kind of makeshift toga.

"Uhhhh . . . here," he said striding over to the far side of the crypt. "Guess I was in a hurry to get this one off, wasn’t I?" Buffy smiled lightly, surprising Spike with her even-temperdness. He feared that it wouldn’t take long for her to slip back into bitchy, ice queen Buffy. He wanted this new, pleasant Buffy, the Buffy that was smiling for the first time in weeks, to stay. "Here now, do you have to go rushing off right away?" He said, curling his arms around her neck and lazily placing his damp lips to the nape of her neck.

"Well it’s Dawn. I have to go home to see if she’s there. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she’s not." Buffy smiled in his arms and brushed her bruised, pulsing lips against his cold mouth before breaking apart from him.

Spike could see Buffy was genuinely concerned for Dawn and wasn’t just trying to find an excuse to duck out. He pulled on a shirt and his jeans and reached for a blanket.

"Well wait for me, I want to see if Nibblet’s alright."

Buffy thought she would be annoyed at the fact that she had spent all of last night and much of this morning with Spike, but she didn’t. In fact, she was concerned when saw him writhing slightly under the blanket.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" She asked, as they made their way up Revello Drive.

"Yeah, just getting my daily dose of Vitamin D that I never knew I needed," Spike hissed, trying to duck under any shady tree he could find. Buffy giggled slightly and Spike grinned under his blanket to hear that. He rushed up to her and took her hand and was pleased to find that she accepted it. He knew that it was being exposed to sunlight and that it would be a nasty burn, but he didn’t care. He gripped it tightly and Buffy found it so sweet, if not a little strange that she and her former mortal enemy were into handholding.

"DAWN??!!!" Buffy called through the house as she opened the front door. "DAWN???!!!"

"Geez Buffy, ever heard of inside voices? Loud enough to wake the undead. Speaking of which . . . Hi Spike!" Dawn greeted Spike brightly, who by this time had let go of Buffy’s hand and impishly let the zealous teenager pounce him into a hug

"Where have you been?" Buffy asked in her best stern mother hen voice.

"Ummm . . . here. Which is more than I can say for you," Dawn said putting her hands on her hips and giving her sister the best evil eye she could muster. "Well whatever, come in the kitchen first, I made pancakes."

"I found her!" Xander affirmed loudly, his mouth muffled with pancake as Dawn and Buffy walked into the kitchen. Anya was evidently feeding Xander breakfast (like literally, spoon-feeding) while Tara sat back and watched the activities of the dysfunctional couple.

"Hi Buffy," Tara said shyly.

"Hi Tara," Buffy answered before focusing back onto Xander.

"No you didn’t," Dawn disgustedly replied to Xander. "I walked through the door this morning and you just grabbed me and yelled ‘I found you’."

"Well somebody had to, Missy. Who knows what kind of trouble you could have gotten into from the door to the kitchen?" Dawn rolled her eyes. "Speaking of trouble," Xander said, turning his attention to Buffy, "Where the Sam Hill have you been?"

Buffy shifted where she stood uncomfortably. "Out looking for Dawn, she murmured.

"I slept over at Lisa’s," Dawn said, turning to Buffy. "I left a note. It must have got lost."

"No here it is," Anya said brightly, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. "I just thought it was a grocery list." She squinted. "Spam jelly . . . open-faced . . . lettuce." She looked up at Dawn. "You really have terrible handwriting."

"All that aside," Xander interrupted, trying to squeeze information out of Buffy. "What were you doing searching for Dawn for 6 hours? There aren’t that many places for a young, brooding adolescent to sulk in ol’ Sunnydale."

"Well . . . I saw a lot of demons and vamps last night and lots of slayage ensued."

"You were patrolling until 7 this morning?" Anya chirped. "Didn’t the pesky sun pretty much get the job done for you?"

Buffy’s mind raced for an excuse. She practically felt the heat of the blinding, interrogation light that was making her cringe with perspiration. "Look you guys, I appreciate it, but you aren’t my parents. After all the carnage, I felt a little thirsty and went to . . . Willy’s for a couple beers."

Xander wrinkled his nose. "Willy’s? You were in that dive?"

Buffy rushed to expand her lie. "Yeah . . . um it was the only bar open and . . . I just felt like I needed time alone . . . you know?"

Xander’s face fell. He understood. She needed time to brood over what they had done. After all these weeks, she still wasn’t over it. And instead of reaching out to them, she was distancing herself, making Xander feel like he knew Buffy less then ever. Buffy saw the hurt in his eyes and felt a tinge of guilt over what her lie implied, but she figured that to tell them she was at Willy’s would be a lot less controversial as telling them were she really was. Just then Spike came into the kitchen.

"Do I smell pancakes?"

"Yup, only the fluffiest, tastiest pancakes you’ll find in this part of the country," Dawn sang as she rushed to set up a short stack for Spike, drowning it in syrup.

Xander groaned. "What’s the undead patron of the Billy Idol Fan Club doing here?" he whined as Spike devoured his pancakes.

"He helped with the patrolling . . . then . . . we went to Willy’s and sat around for awhile." She didn’t dare look into Spike eyes, but she could hear him abruptly turn to look at her. "How’s Willow?" she asked quickly, rushing to change the subject.

"Can we all say ‘who cares’?" Dawn muttered, adjusting the sling on her shoulder slightly. Buffy gave her a reprimanding look.

"Upstairs resting," Xander said in between mouthfuls of pancake and glaring at Spike. "Me and Ahn checked up on her and she seems better."

"Looks terrible though. Like the homeless bag lady down on Sycamore Street." Anya cut in. Tara stiffened uncomfortably.

"Um . . Ahn, I know it’s too late to ask you to get your foot out of your mouth, but maybe you should concentrate on getting some pancake into mine." Xander opened his mouth expectantly.

"Look at the nancy-boy and his dowdy chamber maid," Spike mused. "She might as well be chewing your food for you as well, you stupid git."

"That’s it," Xander sputtered as he stood up. "Get out before I suck up your remains with my trusty Dirt Devil."

"Oh I’m shakin’ Harris. ‘Fraid you’ll hit me, but you’ll probably get Demon-girl to do it for you, won’t you?"

"She can hit pretty hard," Xander gritted his teeth, trying to churn out a proper comeback.

"I really can," Anya supplied. "And as an ex-vengeance demon, I know exactly where it will hurt the most for men."

Tara and Dawn giggled at the wackiness while Buffy tried to suppress a smile.

"I suggest you try some of those tactics on your boy. You’ll be doin’ a service to all of mankind to get rid of the whelp. Help you as well to get an identity apart from your bloody boyfriend, you spineless bint."

"Hey, nobody talks to my fiancée like that!" Xander rushed towards Spike, poised to finish him off with a butter knife. Spike grinned fiendishly, ready for a fight. Buffy rushed to jump in between them, placing a hand on Spike’s chest to motion him to back off.

"Enough Xander." This is exactly why I could never tell them about Spike, she thought. Although how fun would it be to see the verbal showdown between him and Xander? She giggled at the prospect.

Tara up to this point was relatively silent, just watching the fun and picking at her pancakes. She was already absorbed with thoughts of Willow, who she wanted to see today badly, but couldn’t bring herself to do. The moment Buffy touched Spike, Tara’s eye’s glazed with startled recognition. She had seen something and jumped astonishedly. She made a brief sound and felt a yelp get stuck in her throat. "Eek!"

All eyes turned to her. Xander, still holding the butter knife high above his head, asked, "Are you okay Tara?"

Even Spike himself showed concern ---kind of. "Here now, what’s wrong with Red’s girl toy?"

"What’s the matter Tara?" Buffy asked seriously, walking up to her and grasping her arms.

"I’m---I’m----I uh. . ."

"You’re not going to start with whole stammering thing again are you?" Anya rudely asked. "Because we could barely understand a word you were saying."

"I----I, um, I have to go----" Tara gasped. "Thanks for the pancakes Dawnie." She timidly looked into Buffy’s worried eyes. "Yeah, I---uh----yeah." With that she rushed out the back door.

Chapter 6: Witchy Reflections

Some days later, Buffy made her way to the Magic Box, yawning and stretching before she entered. She was exhausted. She hadn’t gotten that much sleep lately. In between spending most of the night at Spike’s crypt then rushing home in the early hours of morning, Buffy had little time for sleep. Oh well, she thought. Don’t need much sleep. One of the virtues of being a slayer. She walked into the Magic Shop with an unusual dopey face and noticed only Tara there, her head buried in a book.

"Hey Tara," she said lightly. "Whatcha doin?"

"Oh hey Buffy." Tara looked up in her usual bashful manner. "I’m just researching what might have caused the diamond theft a couple weeks ago. It has the indication of demonic involvement, with the freezing and stuff, but it could just as soon be a freeze gun or something technological like that."

"A diamond theft on the Hellmouth is like petty theft in Alcatraz," Buffy sighed, still stretching and maintaining the same blissful smile caused by all the bad wrong lusty thoughts she was thinking . . . over who else? She could still taste the tobacco on her tongue from his mouth "We should take a break and wait for more dire things." She paused. "Where’s Anya?"

"Oh she and Xander are in the back ‘doing inventory’." Tara laughed softly while making little quote movements with her hands. "Although it sounds like they’re getting a little too excited over the Orbs of Hebrakhash."

Buffy grimaced, upset that that particular visual picture got in the way of all her lusty thoughts. "Gotcha." She sat next to Tara. "So what’s up with you?"

"Oh nothing." Tara never knew how to answer questions like that. "How’s Willow?" she asked softly.

Buffy shrugged. "She’s better. Dawn is finally talking to her a bit, but I think a little bribery from me helped. All in all, the sullen-faced sibling, the slayer and the gay, Jewish witch make the all-American family."

Tara smiled. "I’m glad. And I’m glad that you seem so much better lately."

Buffy smiled in turn. "Yeah," she agreed. "I am. With things at home calmed down and with the minimum of demonic activity, things are going pretty good."

Things had been going good. She felt less and less angry and broken over her death and resurrection everyday. Spike had been a large part of that. She had been filled to the brim with him, and all these feelings that poured out of her previously lifeless body. Now that she mostly accepted him, at least for the moment, as something that was normal in her life, it had been so unexpectedly sweet, so cute between them. She could let her inhibitions fall away with him, and there was only animalistic need and desire. But along with that, she let herself be affectionate too. He could so easily turn from a raging, seductive lover to a childish puppy, one that lapped up kisses and played with her hair and skin in the afterglow and she loved that side of him. She would never admit that, of course, but she showed him through her actions, in the way a soft smile would play across her lips as she twirled her fingers through his tousled hair or in the soft manner she would sometimes kiss his him while they made love. It was getting harder to leave in the morning and pretend that nothing happened the whole day until she felt her body tense then relax at sunset.

"And with Spike taking more care of Dawn, I have more time to work and relax. I’m looking for a job."

Tara visibly stiffened when she heard Spike’s name. "Oh really? That’s . . . um . . . great. I, uh, I got to go in the back to look up a book."

"Wait, Tara." Buffy grabbed Tara’s arm as she stood up, hearing the change in her voice. "What’s wrong?"

"What? Nothing Buffy, nothing’s wrong." She didn’t sound very convincing.

"Yes there is. You changed . . . suddenly, when I mentioned Spike. Do you have a problem with him Tara?"

"No-no Buffy it’s not that---"

"Then what is it?" Buffy started to get annoyed. "I’ve been getting this really weird vibe from you lately and I want to know what’s going on."

Tara sighed. She hated how awkward this was making her feel. She was already used to being sort of an oddfellow in the group, but she didn’t need them suspecting her of anything.

"Okay . . . I’ll tell you. The thing is Buffy . . . I’ve been getting a weird vibe from you."

Buffy frowned. "From me? What makes you think that?"

Tara stood up and started pacing. "You know how I told you about how I can see people’s life energy --- their aura?"

"Yeah . . ." Buffy said hesitantly. "That’s how you could tell about me and Faith, switching bodies."

"Right. Well since you got back I haven’t been able to see yours---which is completely understandable," Tara rushed to say, seeing Buffy’ widened eyes. "With what happened to you and stuff. An experience like that leaves a person needing time to recuperate. Anyway, lately, I have been able to see it again."

"Which is good . . ." Buffy reasoned.

"Y-yeah. I-its’ chock full of the good. It’s just that, well when you and S-Spike are together, your aura. . . it’s i-incredibly intense."

Buffy stiffened with fear at the realization of what she meant. "What are you trying to say Tara?"

Tara breathed deeply. "Well when you touched Spike the other day, I could see this sudden rush of energy flow through the both of you. Energy flow like that passes between people who are really. . .connected." She smiled. "I used to be able to see that kind energy between me and Willow. She couldn’t though, she hadn’t fine-tuned her energy-perception skills as well." Her face fell when discussing Willow. "What I’m trying to say is . . . Buffy, are you and S-S-Spike . . . ?"

"No!" Buffy sputtered as she tried to calm her breathing. "There is n-no ‘me and Spike’. There is ‘me’ singular and ‘Spike’ singular, but not ‘me and Spike’. NO conjunction!"

Tara cocked her head puzzledly. "Are you sure Buffy, because I’ve rarely seen such an intense energy flow between two people."

"Of course I’m sure! I think I would know about my own love life wouldn’t I?" Buffy looked down at Tara’s patient eyes. Not the alarmed eyes she imagined Willow having or the bulging, horrified eyes she knew Xander would have. Tara’s eyes were compassionate. Non-judgmental. And Buffy had wanted to tell somebody. It had been taking over her heart so fully that she wanted to share.

"We slept together." Buffy looked down at her pink heels. She looked up again at Tara. Uh-oh. Not good eyes anymore. Bad eyes. Horror-stricken, shocked eyes. Dammit. She knew she shouldn’t have told.

"Buffy! How did this happen?"

"Ummm, I think the proper question would be ‘How many times did this happen?’." More gasps.

"Buffy . . . I-I don’t know what to say."

"Just promise me you won’t tell the others," Buffy rushed towards Tara, eyes pleading.

"Of course I wouldn’t," Tara shook her head emphatically. "But-why? Why don’t you want them to know?"

Buffy sighed. "God . . . I don’t know, I guess I keep thinking that they’ll be ashamed of me. I mean . . . its Spike."

Tara went over to encourage the Slayer. "You’re afraid that we would judge you? We’re your friends, how could we? And it’s not like we can all boast of conventional relationships too, y’know. I mean, look at me and Willow. Two lesbian witches, not something you see everyday. And Xander. I mean, he’s engaged to an ex-demon. Who’s still kind of loopy anyway. And from what I heard from Willow, Xander was never one for normal relationships. Mummy girl? Faith? Cordelia?"

"Yeah, Buffy reflected. "But the difference there is that they all had souls. Spike . . . he’s a souless vampire. Me world-saving Slayer. You can kind of see the taboo?"

Just then, no one noticed Spike slipping in, by way of the back entrance. He was trying to find Buffy and give her back her, ehhhm, brasserie she had rushedly left that morning. Face it, Spike wanted to find any excuse to see Buffy, it was becoming too hard to sit around all day, in impatient expectation of the night. Hearing Tara and Buffy talk about apparently him . . . oh how fun was chick gossip, he amusedly ducked into the hall and stood to listen. While listening he reflected on the past few days.

It had been heaven. Never in his existence, both alive and undead, was he so happy. The death of the first slayer was probably the second happiest moment, but being a romantic at heart, how could Spike compare love and death? He had been obsessed with Buffy for years and pined for her all last year. It had given him nothing but pain, because he expected nothing but rejection. But now . . . to have her in his arms every night, seeing the same gleam of desire and lust in her eyes that he felt, he could nearly feel his lifeless heart beat with joy. It had been totally different with Drusilla. Bitch made him suffer as well, but whenever he touched her, he felt a chill run up his spine and his love was always mixed with pity and paternalism. With Buffy, it was completely different. He could never feel cold in her presence, not with the heat of her body consuming him. And he never had to worry about taking care of her. She was strong and fierce, and it was more than apparent in their lovemaking.

"I mean, it’s . . . Spike. Spike, the one who has tried to kill my friends and me for years. How could the rest of the Scoobies accept him?" Spike turned his attention out of his thoughts and back to Buffy and Tara’s conversation.

"Well, does it matter? Does what we matter what we think? I mean, if you actually care about Spike, it doesn’t matter about us. Do you Buffy? Care about him I mean?"

Spike stiffened. He heard Buffy sigh. Talking to Tara like this made Buffy realize that she was back in the real world now, not the discreet sanctuary of Spike’s crypt, where time stood still, and she had a chance to forget all the rest of the others. Talking to Tara made Buffy think about her relationship with Spike in real time, and suddenly all the old fears and defenses were brought back up. To say it aloud made the whole thing with Spike seem all the more ridiculous. And all the more dangerous.

"No." She said, hesitantly, but firmly.

Spike felt like someone had plunged a stake into his chest. "I mean . . . I don’t know." Buffy gazed guiltily into her hands. "That would be so not kosher wouldn’t it?"

Tara shrugged. "Who can tell you what’s kosher when it’s your heart your dealing with?"

"But it’s Spike." Bloody bitch keeps saying that, Spike thought tensely. He rushed closer to the door to hear better. "It’s too weird and---twisted. Angel was weird enough and looked how that turned out. But Spike . . . a souless vampire."

"Look, I didn’t know Angel, but I heard about him. And I only heard the brief details. I do know some of the things he did to you, and Buffy . . ." Tara sighed. "You can’t let that affect your relationships with others."

BLOODY RIGHT, Spike thought. I half like the Wicca, smart bint she is.

"That’s not what this is about." Buffy looked her dangerously in the eyes, but Tara pushed further.

"Isn’t it? You and I have no doubt that Spike is a good guy. He stayed those months you were gone and helped all of us out. He took such good care of Dawnie and was nice to all of us---even Xander." A soft smile played across Tara’s face. "I mean, I really always had a soft spot for Spike. Him helping me with my family and all. So this isn’t a debate about Spike’s virtues."

Buffy was surprised at Tara’s sudden articulateness and stubborn clarity. "Who are you and what have you done with Tara?"

Tara grinned. "The fact is that getting into another relationship with a vampire scares you."

"Well I know that. Vampiric relationships don’t come around too often. Out of all the romance columns in Cosmo’s you rarely see one saying ‘Love Bites: The True Stories of a Girl and her Undead Boy Toy’."

"But that’s not why you’re afraid of pursuing a relationship with Spike."

""What pursuing? Who said anything about pursuing? There will be no pursuance." Shut your bloody gob and listen to Blondie! Spike wanted to scream as he clenched his fists.

"You’re not afraid of the strangeness of a vampire love interest," Tara continued. "You’re afraid that that vampire love interest would be exactly the same as your previous vampire love interest. You’re afraid he’ll turn into Angel."

"Why would I be afraid of that? Angel had a soul. Angel was good."

"No. It’s not that. You’re afraid that Spike will get tired of you and leave you, just like Angel."

Buffy paused. She shook her head. "You’re way off base, Tara."

"Am I? Face it Buffy, Angel has been stopping you from having relationships with others, not only Spike. Riley for instance."

Buffy shook her head again, stronger this time. "That’s was completely different."

"You shut him out Buffy. You shut him out because the only other person you truly loved shut you out. And you didn’t want to get hurt like that again. And now, Spike. You’re doing the same exact thing." Tara walked right up to Buffy. "I know he truly loves you. We all do. Did you know that after everything was done, he was the only one of us besides Giles to regret bringing you back?"

"What?" Buffy cocked in her head in confusion. Yeah right, he was probably all for it. That way he could go back to stalking me, just like before.

"He knew the chances that something like . . . like what happened to you could be. And he would have rather keep you dead then let you go through that much."

Almost simultaneously, Spike and Buffy’s eyes filled with tears.

"Really?" Buffy whispered, forgetting to put up her defenses.

"Really. He loves you so much, Buffy. And that scares you also. You’re afraid of the fact that Spike could love you in a way that Angel never could. That he can love you, even without a soul."

Buffy breathed deeply. Since when did Tara become all intuitive? Although she was pleasantly surprised by this new, confident Tara, at this moment she wanted back the old stammering one. Spike, on the other hand, decided right after this, he was going to pilfer the largest gift he could find and leave it on Tara’s doorstep later.

"I don’t know," Buffy sighed. "Even though . . . all that could be true," she tensed every time she had to admit to something she had been pushing deep down, "It’s still so many level of wrongness that I can’t count."

Spike could feel everything stop when she said that. All he could feel was rage boil within. GAHH, couldn’t the soddin’ bitch ever make up her mind? Every time we take a step forward, she takes two bloody steps back! He backed up against the door of the stock room and rammed his fist against it. Buffy and Tara thought it was just Anya and Xander, making with their strange mating habits.

"HEY SPIKE!" Xander exclaimed as he heard the bustle and rushed outside to see who caused it. "What are the sorry likes of you doing here?" Buffy stiffened when she heard that. Oh God no, she thought. Please tell me he wasn’t listening to all that. Spike sheepishly entered the room with Xander grasping onto his duster collar. "Look at what the Xan-man just dragged in." Xander said proudly. Spike turned to look in Buffy’s eyes and she could tell that he had been there to hear all of it. The flash of anger mixed with hurt made Buffy feel a pit settle at the bottom of her stomach. "And look he’s brought something. Is it . . . hey! Someone’s unmentionables!"

"I’ll ask you to lay off my property, Harris," Spike growled, never taking his eyes off of Buffy’s.

"Since when did you don frilly-laced pink underwires, Spike?’

"Hey those are Buffy’s!" Anya exclaimed, rearranging her skirt and shirt, all slightly askew.

"What huh?" Buffy broke off the piercing glance she held with Spike. "Oh yeah," she said half-heartedly. "Those are mine."

"Can we all say ‘pervert’?" Xander said although he turned his attention back to the bra. "Wait---ho, those are yours?" His eyes glazed over with excitement until Anya swiftly elbowed him in the ribs. "Although your underwear is so much more seductive sweetie," he reassured her. "But um, GROSS. What are you doing with Buffy’s underwear? You’re not starting the whole obsession thing again are you, because that was all kinds of freaky." He looked quizzically at the calm Buffy. "Well come on, Buffy, tell him!"

"What huh? Oh." Buffy tried to put on her best angry face although it was a bit strained. "Bad, bad Spike. How many times do I have to tell you to stop stealing my stuff? It’s . . . bad." She tried to look Spike in the eyes, but couldn’t stand to see the raw hurt still lingering there.

"THAT’S IT?" Xander asked incredulously. "He steals your lingerie for his dirty, sex-offenderish purposes and you don’t even rough him up a bit? I think it’s time for me to open a can of specially-formulated vampire whoop ass."

"Piss off, Harris," Spike said, throwing the bra on the table. "I’ll show myself out. He grabbed his old blanket and headed for the door. Buffy could feel herself start to shake. Tara looked over at her, concerned.

"And don’t come back, you understand?" Xander couldn’t help adding, grabbing Spike’s arm roughly.

"Unless we can help fulfil your occult needs!" Anya called from the register, not wanting to risk another customer.

"Yeah," Spike said, not bothering to hide the sadness that drained into his voice as he looked over at Buffy again. "I understand completely." He rushed off. Buffy stood, shocked and saddened and Xander and Anya couldn’t understand when Tara went up to place her hands on Buffy’s shoulder for comfort