Chapter Three – Thoughts

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed gave Spike time to think. Too much time… too much thinking. He thought about the day’s events; Doyle’s vision that led him to LA’s Bedlam branch and his simultaneous arrival with Captain Forehead, his impulsive half-cocked rush to leap in and save the girl and the day, and the realization that this Dana was a psychotic Slayer of all creatures (and how he missed sussing that out on his own still had him floored.).

Spike’s thoughts drifted to Andrew. The little ponce had surprised him. In several ways. Showing up in the capacity of old Rupes’ Top Man was one thing, but his own reaction to being groped, fondled and cried over in front of everyone was the real kicker. Spike was touched beyond the telling of it that someone genuinely cared, and wasn’t afraid to show it. Someone who had seen the worst of him (images of his fangs sunk deeply into Andrew’s neck came to his soul’s regret)… someone who (more than) actively sought out his company… someone who took the time to talk and listen. Andrew was as close to a friend as he’d ever had, either as William or Spike. Not that he’d break down and hug the lad back… but it wasn’t as if he’d thrown him across the room, either.

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed, Spike’s forearms continued to twinge, sending small frissons of pain throughout his system. He figured he should be grateful that he HAD arms to hurt at all… he’d been in serious danger of literally losing his grip on things for good. Not up on all the vamp lore, he wasn’t certain if a vampire’s amputated limbs had the ability to regenerate but he was grateful he’d not have to find out.

Angel. Spike’s thoughts drifted toward his GrandSire. What in the name of all he held dear was going on between them? Snarky repartee… check. Scowling glances… check. Not listening to each other… check. And yet? Something was changing, noticeably different. Spike had saved Angel’s unlife on several different occasions… first with that necromancer bloke (before he’d even been corporeal), and then over that sodding destiny fiasco. He’d not staked Angel, though the temptation was there… but thoughts of… no, not going there. Then, there was that scrawny bint, Eve, who had tried to turn Angel into psychedelic bug fodder. Spike shuddered at the thought of an unlifetime spent inside his own head. Too close having been lost inside his own head for comfort, that.

Spike had also been surprised with Angel’s behavior towards him. Had he actually tried to convince him that he was being reckless in going after Dana for his own safety? Not putting him down for being useless? As far as his squirrelly memory went, he remembered his enormous relief when Angel swooped in out of nowhere, like an Avenging spirit, to rescue him from the deranged Slayer. Too much pain and far too out of it to vocalize at the time, Spike knew he’d be thanking Angel for saving his arms and his unlife. See? Something had changed… neither of them had ever gone out of their way to rescue the other. They might not have been able to end each other’s existence for whatever reasons, but actively saving? A truly new development. And not as unsettling as it might have been.

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed, thoughts of last night’s conversation with Angel came to mind. Hmmph.. yeah, conversation. A first, if Spike was honest with himself. The first time Angel actually spoke to him like an equal, and the first time Spike had actually listened and heard. Angel admitted his own sinful past – the enjoyment in deconstructing humans, psychologically and physically. How he went out of his way to cause torment and pain. His raison d’etre. Angel also admitted that Spike and he were different in that aspect. Spike knew himself, that he’d enjoyed the mayhem, and power… but was more a fists and fangs kind of vamp. Fight and feed, against all odds. None of this prolonged torture bollocks, especially against a child! Someone who couldn’t possibly fight back. Not that he hadn’t fed from and killed children, families, but… his head hurt from all that thought. Worse pains came from the knowledge that Dana had been tortured by an ensouled human, for no other reason than to cause pain. A ten year old child. Spike was revolted. What use was a soul, if it allowed that kind of... if it could be so easily overridden… no! Spike had to believe it all came down to choices.

Choices. He’d made some damned strange ones over the years. Yes, some by selfish necessity; showing up at the Watcher’s place after that thrice damned chip, for one. Putting himself in the hands of… damn it… not going there! Killing his own kind to satisfy his lust for violence. Backing up the Sla… again! He couldn’t believe it… every path, every decision seemed to lead to… Sighing heavily, he knew he’d have to think of her sooner or later.

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed, Spike gave in to the inevitable, and let his thoughts drift to his Slayer. Yes, HIS Slayer. Always in his mind, always in his heart. Buffy might never love him as he’d wish, but in their last few days together, they’d come to an understanding. They trusted each other. Miracle of miracles. After what had gone down the previous year, culminating in that horror show in her bathroom, they’d reached a new level. They’d forgiven each other their trespasses. Fault was neither denied nor forgotten, but forgiven. Blessed forgiveness. It was worth everything.

Snorting to himself, he continued with his reverie. He’d told Andrew NOT to tell Buffy he was back amongst the living. He, himself, had not been able to go to her, call her, let her know he hadn’t perished. Truth be told, he was petrified. Petrified they’d not get back the closeness they’d only just achieved before his world-saving immolation. Terrified they’d attempt a relationship and fail, and lose each other for good. His cowardice shamed him.

He… oh gods! He bolted upright… Andrew! Who was he kidding? Andrew would NEVER be able to keep his gob shut. Spike closed his eyes, and took in a deep, unneeded breath. He could feel it. There was a disturbance in the force, and thinking in Andrewisms was proof positive.

Something was about to happen that would rock the status quo to its foundations.

Chapter Four – Falling

Falling from honor. Falling in love. Falling for a line. Falling on your ass. Falling from grace. Falling down the rabbit hole. Falling from favor. Free-falling. Angel constantly feels like he’s falling. Even in his dreams… falling. He’s petrified of what’s going to happen when he stops.

Thinking back on the past day, Angel sighed. It’d been difficult on everyone, to say the least. He was no longer sure of anything – all his decisions seemed to be of the “lesser of two evils” variety, instead of right/wrong. If he heard the words “grey area” just one more time…!

As he sat in his grand office, in his buttery soft leather chair, he ran his hands through his hair… and thought of… no, not now… can’t think… something else. He’s so tired. The lack of sleep is not doing him any favors. Remembered Andrew coming into his office. Giles’ Top Man. With a snort, he thinks he’s really getting too old for this… but immediately dismissed the thought, as it brings his mind back to… damn! Can’t get away from him. Has to try harder.

Eyes closed, he sees Dana, ranting away, her diatribe a mixture of so many different languages. All harsh, all invectives. Struggling to free herself, struggling to find herself. Nobody said a soul was proof positive of exemplary behavior, and his own weighs heavily.

Headache screaming now, he tried to massage his temples, and was inevitably drawn to the one person he’d been trying to blank out… and he finally gives in. Spike. SPIKE! Will. Stupid, arrogant, half-cocked upstart destiny usurper. Or was it always about him? Never about Angel in the first place? Prophesy can drive you nuts.

Head in his hands, Angel breathed. Deep, cleansing breaths. Trying to stop from screaming breaths. Remembering the old days… the early days of William. Dru brought the simpering brat home… but he quickly… well… He remembers Will’s hands. Rather slim fingered, delicate hands. He remembers his fingers wrapped around a stylus, holding the binding of a favored book, brushing Dru’s hair, wrapped around his… STOP! He doesn’t want to remember anymore, but when he remembers Spike’s hands on the workshop table, he was sure he would have vomited, if he were capable.

It’s tearing him apart… the mission, what is the mission? His friends, colleagues, his grandchilde, his… son. He carries that burden alone, but feels the situation threatening to crack wide open at any moment. It’s not a peaceful feeling. He wonders if his newly protective feelings towards Spike have bled over from missing Connor. Seems he’s gonna be a father if it kills both Spike and himself.

Warning Spike off about chasing after the impaired slayer… makes him feel foolish, now. Once known as the Slayer of Slayers, Spike’s more the Slayer’s… well, he REALLY doesn’t want to go there. Caught Spike in the middle of his swan dive from the factory, remembers listing to him prattle on, something about a Chinese dragon demon, or elemental something or other – pretty much tuned it out as white noise. Spike never did shut up. Always yammering.

But tonight… in the small infirmary bed, in the softly shadowed room, it was different. He and Spike had an actual conversation. Angel could actually see Spike as he got it. Understanding hit those expressive features like a brick wall. So subdued, so quietly despairing… trying to cope with what he had done and the trail of victims left behind. Empathizing with them on a personal level for the very first time. Gods, did he feel for his boy… and yes, after all these years he had to admit to it. HIS boy. Dru was no Sire. When all was said and done, Angel was very glad to have been able to rescue Spike from a worse fate.

Gods, he wishes he could just go to sleep for a week. That would possibly make a dent in his sleep deprived state. Should check with the lab... see if maybe they removed his sleep by accident? Nobody could be this tired, and still be expected to function. Wished he could delegate all that damned paperwork, but can’t trust anyone to do it for him.

And that’s the final straw – the one breaking his back. Trust, or rather, the lack of trust. From Buffy. No longer his Buffy… but maybe Spike’s? She doesn’t even know he’s alive… um, back, whatever. He wondered idly if Andrew… nah, not gonna happen. Spike made him promise to let him call at his own pace, in his own time.

He’d worry about it another time. He might actually be falling asleep.

Chapter Five - Troubled Waters

The storm buffeting the plane as it made its approach to LAX didn’t bode well for Buffy. Her mood matched the weather. The closer they got to LA, the more agitated she became. She was nervous about seeing Spike, she was nervous about running into Angel. Wolfram & Hart, itself, was giving her fits. Add a full-blown case of PMS, and no wonder her teeth were on edge. God help the first man, woman or demon that impeded her search.

When the shaking finally stopped, and the plane landed, Buffy almost cried with relief. Her tension was palpable. She absentmindedly smoothed the wrinkles from her outfit; tight black leather pants, red silk blouse and, of course, Jimmy Choo boots. The idle thought came to mind that she had dressed for Spike, in his colors. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to think of that saying… she needed to do something… oh yes! That was it. She needed to ‘gird her loins,’ even though she wasn’t sure exactly how you ‘girded.’

Her destination in hand, Buffy deplaned and hailed a cab. She wasn't sure how far Wolfram & Hart was from the airport, but she had a pocketful of Council of Watchers cash and the driver seemed to know where he was going. Good enough.

Standing in front of the massive W&H building, Buffy took those agonizing last steps and pushed open the lobby doors. She walked to the Reception Desk, all her Spidey senses tingling. When the woman looked up to greet her, they were both absolutely gobsmacked. Spike would be so proud of her for actually getting the word right in context. “Harmony! What the hell are you doing here?”

Harmony tried to stay cool. She and Buffy hadn't been friends in high school, but still, it was nice to see a familiar face. She also tried to be professional, because that was her job. “Hey, Buffy! Nice to see you… oh, and by the way? Thanks so much for saving the world, ‘cause you know, if you hadn’t? Then, like… we wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have this terrific job. I’m Angel’s personal assistant, you know… and…”

Buffy cut her off before the blathering made her ears bleed… and Angel’s name was as good a place as any. “Harmony, I need to see Angel… where is he?” Harmony seemed pretty hyper, and Buffy needed to get on with this. She could see Spike in her mind’s eye, bouncing on the balls of his feet with impatience; hear him muttering words like ‘bint’ and ‘bloody hell’ with perfect clarity. Gods, she missed that! Gathering her wits about her, Buffy said, “Bloody hell, Harmony… just tell me where I can find Angel!!!

Harmony stopped her twittering and had the strangest expression on her face. Shocked wouldn’t be inappropriate. She just pointed towards the bank of elevators in the rear of the Lobby, and Buffy was off like a shot.

There was a directory posted to the left of one of the cars, and Buffy scanned it for Angel’s office. She stepped into the next available elevator, pushed the button and took another calming breath as the door closed. Soon, she thought… soon… what? She really had no clue as to how this was going to pan out.

Stepping out onto the third floor was impressive. Lots of lovely, plush carpeting… but no people. Empty. “Hello! Is anybody there?” she called. It seemed to echo in the empty halls. Empty offices, light streaming through impressively sized windows. No place for a vampire to hide.

Feeling that little warning tingle in the back of her neck, Buffy spun around to come face to chest with an extremely familiar patch of red silk. Looking up, she was confronted with a green skinned, red horned, red eyed, smiling demon. Dressed in her outfit- minus the kicky boots – right down to the black leather pants! Buffy lost it. The giggles started deep in her gut and just bubbled out of her, loud and strong.

Amused, Lorne said, “Hey there, you delightfully dressed petite four. You seem to be in a good mood. My name’s Lorne. What can I do for you?”

Only in LA, Buffy thought, would you find a demon with her fashion sense. Trying to stop laughing enough to speak, Buffy said, "Hi, I'm Buffy, and I need to speak with... "

Lorne’s demeanor changed immediately. “Oh, crumpet, the vamp you're searching for isn't here right now."

"You know me?" asked Buffy.

"Hells bells, sweetness... everyone knows you! Buffy... THE Slayer who saved the world!”

Buffy's face crumpled at that, and she began to sob... quietly at first... then deep, stomach wrenching wails.

At the sound of the woman’s distress, Wesley came running out of his office. “Lorne, what’s the… Buffy? Is that you, dear?”

At the sound of her name, Buffy’s tear streaked face looked up into the kindly blue eyes of someone she couldn’t quite place… and then realized it was her old new Watcher. But what a difference a couple of years had made! No longer the tweedy little nerd, but a more ruggedly handsome and weary version of the man she once despised.

“Wesley? Is that you? My god, I’d have passed you by in the street!” Sniffling, she accepted his extended hand and stood up.

“It seems as if time has changed us all, Buffy. What brings you here to Wolfram & Hart? Are you looking for Angel? Why are you crying?” Wes would have said more, but the sound of a throat being cleared behind them stopped him cold.

Angel!

Buffy swiped at her eyes, drying the tears, and turned around… sudden anger screaming from her every pore. The face she turned on Angel wasn’t one of sweetness and light, and everyone quailed before her. A Slayer pissed was a formidable sight, indeed.

“Hello, Angel. Long time no see,” she spat. “Anything new?”

If at all possible, Angel paled before her. She was certainly a vision… dressed like a miniature version of Spike; all black leather and red silk.

Buffy continued. “So… how’ve things been since I left California? I’ve met some interesting new Slayers… all over Europe. Been a busy little bunny. How about you? Meet anyone new and interesting? Old and annoying? How’s the family?” Buffy was gunning for him, and didn’t seem to be running out of ammunition any time soon.

"We've spoken on and off for the past half year, Angel... are you sure there isn't anything you might have neglected to mention? Something that I might have been interested in hearing? Someone I might have wanted to drop by and see?"

The venom was just dripping off of each syllable, and Lorne and Wes were paralyzed... couldn't have looked away had they wanted to. Angel shook his head slightly, snapping out of his daze. Walking towards her, he said, “Buffy… can we take this into my office? There’s a lot we need to discuss, and it’s really not appropriate to…”

At his attempt to herd her into the privacy of an office, Buffy pulled away and screamed. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are, Angel? Lord and Master of all you survey? Owner of lives? Maker of paths? Where the fuck do you get off keeping something as HUGE as Spike’s resurrection a secret from me? Don’t even get me started on how pissed off I am at the Bleached Menace, himself, for not calling me, but…”

A light went on in Buffy’s head, stopping her speech, cold. “You never told him where I was, did you? He had no clue how to reach me! You were manipulating everyone, weren’t you? Why do you have to be such a damned control freak? I’m not sixteen anymore, Angel. I can and do make my own decisions on a daily basis. I make decisions for all those new Slayers, Angel. Where the hell do you get off playing God with us all?” Buffy broke at that, the tears starting again, in earnest.

Flinching from Angel’s touch, Buffy turned to Lorne… for some reason she derived immense comfort from his embrace. “There, there, crumpet… it’ll be fine. Calm down, and let the gelled one try and explain.”

Silently, Buffy straightened and followed Angel into his office, locking the door behind them. Her bout of hysteria over for the moment, she was willing to listen to what Angel had to say before tearing into him again. Trying hard to contain her anger, she said, “Fine, Angel. Tell me. Tell me why you’ve gone all closed-mouthy on me. Why you kept Spike’s resurrection from the last person to have seen him as he burned to ash!” Buffy’s voice raised in volume as she tried to tamp down her urge to shake Angel to within an inch of his unlife. Crossing her arms primly over her chest, she settled back in the chair for him to begin.

Angel took an unneeded breath and began the saga of Spike. He told Buffy all about the amulet arriving in an unmarked envelope, Spike’s emergence as a spectral figure, told her of how Spike had asked about her and the others immediately, his brush with hell, the efforts involved in recorporealizing him. Of course, he left out the bits about how he hadn’t personally gone out of his way to help his wayward grandchilde; she’d have known, anyway. He apologized for not letting her know… claiming that he didn’t want her upset all over again if Spike had slipped away for good. Mentioned the Shanshu prophesy, the false Cup of Eternal Torment, and the fact that Spike no longer resided at W&H.

Her eyes glazing over as Angel went on and on, Buffy snorted delicately. And she thought her life was a soap opera… man, Angel was describing a Fellini movie! Trying to keep all the facts straight, she said “Fine, Angel. So life’s been a living hell. Been there, done that, have all the freaking t-shirts. Just tell me why I haven’t…”

At that moment, there was a loud commotion from the hallway, and both Angel and Buffy turned towards the doors as they fell from their hinges. They heard him before they saw him…

“What the bleedin’ hell is going on, Angel?” came from the bleached blond tornado in black leather. Saying he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Buffy sitting there would have been an understatement.

Buffy got up from the chair, and slowly walked over to the agitated vampire. Staring deeply into his shocked eyes, she raised her hand to his face, lovingly caressed his pronounced cheekbones, then drew back and slapped him as hard as she could.

Lorne and Wes had silently crept into the office to stand with Angel. All three stared at the double blond vision in black leather and red fury.

Spike brought his hand to his cheek, hardly feeling the sting. “At least you didn’t go for the nose, luv,” he said, as he opened his arms to enfold his weeping Slayer into his embrace.

Pulling back from the cradle of sanctuary she'd never thought to find again, Buffy whispered, "How, Spike? How could you not let me know?" Waiting for his answer, once more wrapped in Spike's protective hug, Buffy asked the other question that had been tickling the back of her mind. "Spike? How do you feel? Andrew told me what happened to you... what Dana did... oh God, Spike... are you all right?"

Grinning like a madvamp, Spike held up his hands and said, "Look Buffy - everything up my sleeves!" The other answer, to Buffy’s “How?” would have to come at another time.

No room left for rational thought, he nuzzled into Buffy’s neck, breathing in her familiar scent, and closed his eyes. For the moment, he was in Heaven, and everything else faded into oblivion.

Chapter Six - Paths Unclear

**Ahem**

To Spike’s ears, it sounded like a gunshot. Obviously, he had forgotten he and Buffy weren’t alone. He could choose to ignore the git and continue to snuggle Buffy. Had a certain appeal, for sure. However, the little tingles in his arms made moving a smarter idea. Still not totally healed, but Spike thanked whatever powers above he could for the ability to hold and feel the woman in his arms. Slowly, he nudged Buffy’s head from under his chin, and they stepped apart.

They looked up and saw varying degrees of discomfort and amusement on an office full of people. Spike thought, with a chuckle, that Angel looked decidedly constipated. Wes stood behind his shoulder, obviously feeling sympathy for his friend, and interested in the couple. Lorne was fairly glowing with happiness for them both, but it could have been his radioactive complexion. Security was there; someone must have called in response to the doors slamming to the floor. Harmony was there, because she was a very nosy little bint, mouth making a little moue, so as not to spoil her lipstick. Charlie was smiling broadly… think he was looking for a possible throw down. Fred was smiling her sweet little smile. Spike was sure she was happy for him, but he could sense an underlying melancholy.

**Ahem**

This time, Buffy said, “Angel! Enough already. Don’t you owe us a moment? Last time I saw Spike he was rather busy making with the inner glow. I just… want… I just need to make sure that he’s actually here. That I’m not going to wake up screaming and alone again. Let me tell you, nightmares of telling someone you love the…”

Utter silence. The people who did breath, stopped.

Spike gasped, looking directly at Buffy for the first time. There she stood, his little vision in red and black. He tilted his head, smiling at her quietly… waiting for her to continue. Whatever she was going to say was going to make all the difference to his world.

Regrouping, Buffy continued. “Okay… that took me by surprise, so I can imagine you’re all pins-and-needley waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

There was a small snicker from Spike. He could just hear the collective eyeballs rolling as Buffy mixed her metaphors. He knew her grammar gaffs were a put-on, she just didn’t choose to be all anal about it.

“Before Spike died, I told him I loved him. He said I didn't, but thanks for saying it. There was no time to argue or anything. He made me leave, he went poof, and Sunnydale collapsed.” Buffy paused, looking at Angel, who was grimly staring at his desk blotter.

Realizing that conversation had stopped, and everyone was looking at him, Angel said, “Please… continue, Buffy. I suppose it’s all got to come out, and now is as good a time as any.”

Sighing, Buffy began again. “Well, in a way, Spike was wrong. It had taken me 3 years to tell him I loved him, from the time he first said he loved me. I never said a word to him I didn’t feel, and that included some rather ouchy words I will never, ever say again. Not to him. He was also right, in that I wasn’t IN love with him. Slight difference, but all important.”

“Spike and I have had about the rockiest relationship possible, with the possible exception being that little interlude with Angelus.” Taking a breath, Buffy looked up and saw Angel’s pained expression, but forged on. She wasn’t sparing anyone anything today. It was too important that everything come out in the open. “Started with chaining me up and promising to off Dru if I’d want it, if I’d tell him I felt something for him. Oh yeah. I felt something… had him disinvited from my house for it.”

“I never told him that his expression when he hit the barrier at the door almost broke my heart. He looked like a little lost boy.” Buffy smiled softly at that.

“Oi! Was the Big Bad, then… mostly. Didn’t do the lost boy routine.” Spike gritted out through his clenched teeth.

“Yuh huh,” said Buffy. “I remember everything. I’ve had the past 6 months to try and grasp every single moment we’d spent together and cherish each one, since it was all I had left.” Rounding on Spike, she said, “And by the way, Mister… you have a whole lot of ‘splaining to do. Like why you’d never bothered to call me once you became all non-ghosty. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you never answered me.”

For the moment, Spike stopped his complaining and said, “Yeah, pet. I know. We have to talk. Lots to say, I get that.”

”Right. We do, Spike. You and me, me and Angel, you and Angel, Angel and us. Whole bunches of talk to be had. Soon.” With that, she smiled softly at him, and then turned back to her audience.

“Thanks to Angelus, I never really fully trusted another guy again, until I met Riley. Suddenly, I had someone who understood the demon part of my world, and I thought we could work together, and love together. Hah! That worked out so well.”

“Sing out, pet!” came from a very amused Spike.

“Down, Spike!” growled Buffy, “Let me continue or we’ll be here, talking, all night.”

Angel could be heard snickering quietly, and Buffy said, “Same goes for you, Brood Boy. Still have lots of words you need to hear.” She glanced around the room, daring anyone else to comment.

“Little did I know that Riley was part of the Initiative. They took great delight in systematically eliminating all demon life in Sunnydale. At the time, I agreed with them. From what I had been taught, demons equal bad. Black and white. Simple. Formula worked every!single!time. Nobody ever figured Spike into that formula, though. He screwed it all up. Always had. Starting with Acathla. Soulless demon, saving the world. Did not compute.” Buffy shook her head, fondly.

“Getting back to the Initiative… turns out they had captured Spike, and as you all know, there was that whole behavior modification chip business. Once again, the formula went out the window when Spike came to us for help. He was half starved and hurting, and for some reason trusted us enough not to dust him on sight. God knows why, it would have been so easy to take out the most dangerous threat I’d faced in years.”

At that, Spike looked at her with the most delighted expression. “Why pet, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me in ages.”

“Shut up, Spike,” came the giggly rejoinder. “Anyway… to make a long story possibly longer, Spike ended up staying with Giles, then eventually Xander. He found out he could kill demons without setting off the chip, and usually went patrolling with us. I never did tell him what a huge load off my back it was to have him along. Feel pretty shitty about that, but again, it’s in the past.”

“Oh yeah, the whole point of this part is Riley. Thought things were great… found out they weren’t. He couldn’t handle the whole Slayer gig – the being stronger and more capable at demon killing bit. Freaked out when he found out that Angel was my first boyfriend, and a vampire. Had conniptions when he found out that Spike, Hostile 17 to him, was helping us out, AND had developed feelings for me, AND I hadn’t staked him.”

“One night, Spike made me follow him to a vamp brothel, and showed me that Riley had been getting suck jobs from vamp ho’s. His excuse? They needed him. I didn’t. I made him feel like less than a man, and he wanted to see what I found so appealing about demons. Cripes!” She shivers at that… it wasn’t the best of times for her.

“Anyway, my mom was ill, Dawn showed up, Spike wouldn’t leave me alone and then…then there was Glory… Glorificus, the Hellgod.”

“Turns out Dawn was a dimension-busting, mystical glowy key in little sister form, and Glory wanted to use her to collapse the walls separating the dimensions. Made Acathla seem tame. During all this, Mom died, Spike was still there, helping and being annoying; never stopped trying to stick himself into the middle of things, hoping I’d see him as something other than demon. He’d stopped trying to kill me and mine for months, by then. Mom loved him, in case you didn’t know. I used to come home and find him having hot chocolate with her. Freaked me out mostly, ‘cause she didn’t particularly like Angel. Just couldn’t wrap my head around that one. She knew Spike for who he was, soulless, demon, man. Wish I’d actually listened to her once in a while.”

Buffy looked so small and sad, that Spike couldn’t take it any more. He went to her side, and slipped his arms around her waist, then dropped a chaste kiss on her head.

Gathering strength, Buffy continued “For some reason, Glory’s minions thought Spike was the key, and took him to Glory. Hellbitch tortured him for hours. We had to storm her hideout to try and prevent Spike from telling Glory that Dawn was the key. I was so sure he’d rat her out. Always so sure to think the worst of him. Had plenty of reasons to believe he would. He surprised us all. Told Glory nothing, and he was just this side of dusting. It was the first time I realized he meant what he was saying. That he actually cared about us to some extent. I did kiss him then… in thanks, nothing much… but he said it meant everything.”

“I know I’ve been going on and on, but it’s important. You have to know. You have to see Spike as I’ve learned to.”

It was absolutely silent in the office, all eyes focused on the Slayer and the Vampire. Huddled together, a perfectly matched pair. They ‘fit’ together like they’d been made from one piece split in two. They glanced into each other’s eyes, clasped hands, and Buffy spoke again.

“Glory was relentless. She destroyed Tara’s mind, and ended up chasing us out of Sunnydale. Spike managed to find an RV, and we attempted to escape. Of course, Glory found us, kidnapped Dawn for her freaking ritual. Found out she needed to bleed her to open the portal. Giles was all set to kill Dawn to prevent the ritual, but Anya pointed out that all we had to do was delay it. There was only one chance at a certain time for this ritual to work. I wasn’t gonna let ANYONE harm a hair on Dawnie’s head, so I turned to the strongest person I knew to help me.”

Another glance at Spike, and more story. “Spike and I went back to my house, to load up on weapons. He was sorta quiet… told me to hand them over the threshold. I had completely forgotten about the disinvite. Gods, you should have seen his face when I let him in. He would have taken Glory out singlehandly for me had I asked. Again, told me he knew I didn’t love him, but I treated him like a man, and for him... that was enough.”

“I knew in my heart that we weren’t all going to come out of this fight, and I made Spike promise me to defend Dawn if anything happened to me.” Looking at Spike, she asked, “What was it you said, Spike? Exactly?”

“I said, ‘to the end of the world, even if it happens to be tonight.’ I meant it with all my heart, Buffy… so sorry I couldn’t…”

Buffy stopped him with a slight kiss to his cheek. “Spike, you did all you could. You did more than I could have expected of anyone else. Shhh.”

“Anyway… suffice it to say that Glory was stopped. Unfortunately, some demon called Doc managed to bleed Dawn after all, after throwing Spike off the top of the tower Glory’s minions had built. I got up there too late. Threw Doc off the tower, got to Dawnie, but it was too late. The portal was opening. Dawn was going to jump, it was awful. She was resigned to dying. I realized that she was made from me… same blood in the veins, and all. I know there’s a lot I’ve not explained, but you don’t need the info to follow this. Anyway, I had been told that “Death was my gift” by the First Slayer on a vision quest I had undertaken. I knew then that the only thing to do, was to jump, letting MY blood seal the portal.”

Spike’s fingers tightened around her own, and she could feel him silently sobbing. She just hugged him tighter. The worst was almost over.

“I told Dawn to tell Giles that I had figured it all out. I was fine with my decision. I could do what I had to. Most of all, I told Dawn that she needed to live for me. All my friends. That the hardest thing to do was live, and they needed to go on, for me. I jumped, knowing my time was over. I’d be fulfilling my purpose, and the world would be saved. Dawn and all my friends would be fine. It was enough for me.”

If Spike hadn’t been supporting Buffy, she would have collapsed. She looked haggard, but she needed to finish.

“Next thing I knew, I was trying to breath, lying down in a closed box. Ended up digging my way out of my own coffin.” She shuddered and said, “Ended up fighting my way through Sunnydale, not sure of where I was, or what was happening. Found Dawn, who ended up leading me back home. Cleaned up, changed clothes, heard Spike bellowing for Dawn from downstairs.”

“I walked slowly down the stairs, and when Spike looked up and saw me… realizing it was actually me, returned from the dead and buried, and not the Buffybot…”

“Buffybot?” came from Angel and Wesley.

“Don’t worry about it – one day I’ll fill you in on everything,” said Buffy. “As I was saying… when Spike realized it was me, I thought he had gone catatonic. The awe in his face would have lit up the night sky. He saw my bleeding knuckles and knew what I had done. He offered to clean them for me, when my resurrectionist friends burst into my house. Blah blah blah, and I found out that they had thought I was in hell, and ‘saved’ me from eternal hellfire and torment.”

“Basically, every moment back was sheer torment. I was in heaven, and they pulled me out. Only place I could find any solace was at Spike’s crypt. He didn’t ask, he didn’t judge, he didn’t insist I be shiny, happy Buffy. It was good. It was more than good. We talked, we were friends, we just connected… then I fucked it all up.”

“Luv, that’s not right,” Spike insisted. He was heartbroken. Again, sweet cheek kisses, and Buffy sssh’d him.

“Spike… this is it. The real truth, and nothing but. I was depressed, and became abusive. I couldn’t even tell my friends what they had done to me, so I took out all my frustrations on Spike. I beat him down mentally, I smacked him down, I fucked him. Led him on, and hurt him over and over again, because I was just dead. Didn’t think much more of him, either. Dead, soulless creature, and he was more alive than I was. I was more a monster than he was.”

“He tried to save me when I’d been framed for the murder of a girl. How did I repay him? I beat him to within an inch of his final death. Never told him I had found out who actually murdered the girl, never told him I was sorry. Never even looked to make sure he got out of the alley where I’d left him before the sun rose. If there is anything in this world that I am ashamed of, it was that night. Gods, Spike… how you can even look at me is beyond my understanding sometimes.”

Both of them were sobbing out loud now; all Spike could do was hold onto her, as she finished her tale.

“I’d begun to get my bearings again, decided I wanted to live. Stopped going to Spike for escapist sex; using him. I’d done that several times before, saying no… coming back. Fucking with us both, actually, but this time I meant it. It’s not that I didn’t feel anything for him, it’s that I wouldn’t allow it to be real. I was worried about the reactions of the Scoobies. Just wasn’t strong enough to assert my own wants and needs. I told Spike he had to move on, that whatever he felt was real, but just to him.”

“Turns out the nerd trio had bugged most of Sunnydale, including the Magic Box. Spike went to Anya for a forgetting potion, ended up polishing the table with her, caught in 100% Technicolor thanks to a video camera. We’d all seen it on Willow’s laptop… she had been tracking the paths of all the bugs. Xander flipped, and went after Spike with my axe. My relationship with Spike came out when I wouldn’t allow Xander to kill him, everyone was devastated. I ran off, as usual.”

“Blah blah blah, Spike came to apologize to me for hurting me, even though I had told him to move on, I admitted I cared for him, just didn’t trust him enough to ever love him. He pushed a little, I pushed him away. It was an old dance. He just didn’t realize I actually meant no this time.”

Angel’s growls could be heard from across the room.

“Angel, knock it off, and bear with the rest of this. Trust me, it’s hard enough to tell knowing the whole story. I’m fine. Never was hurt physically.”

“As I was saying… Spike got a bit physical, I threw him off and, as upset as I was, I could see the devastation on his face. I told him that’s why I could never love him… couldn’t trust him, when in truth, I had been to blame as much as he for letting things get so out of hand.”

Gathering the remnants of his strength, Spike said, “I had to leave. I’d done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do. I hurt the girl. Hurt the woman I’d loved. The damned chip wouldn’t let me be a monster, and I couldn’t be a man. Had to change. Couldn’t let something like this happen again. I ended up seeing a Shaman in Africa, fought his trials and won, and had my soul returned to me. Drove me bug shagging crazy.”

Buffy smiled at him, grateful for his taking over the storytelling.

“Somehow, I ended up in the Sunnyhell High basement, and, as Angel is fond of reminding me, spent three weeks out of my mind. Doesn’t seem to know about the weeks of being used as The First’s bitch, murdering innocents and not remembering. Being rescued by Buffy, staying with Xander, and let me tell you, ducks, that was torture in its own right. Living with people who hate you, mistrust you. You’d think I’d be used to it. Don’t mean it didn’t sting.”

“Actually knocked down a wall and bit Andrew at one point. Found myself manacled in Buffy’s basement. Tried to get her to kill me. Told her of all the horrid things I’d done, told her not to trust me in a house full of potential slayers. Kill me while she could, evil thing that I was. And what does the silly cow do? Tells me she’s seen me change, tells me that she believes in me.”

“Was then kidnapped by the Bringers, bled to open the Seal of Danthazar and raised the bloody Turok’an. Don’t know how long before Buffy rescued me again, only thing that kept me going was that she believed in me… I was worth something, that she’d come for me. And she did, and we fought, and with the lovely Elizabeth Taylor accessory so kindly provided by Angel, closed the bleedin’ Hellmouth.”

Buffy nodded her head, agreeing with all Spike had said.

She took up the narrative. “And you know the rest. We stopped by LA before heading for London, we all did our thing, and nothing was out of the ordinary until Andrew came back from his visit with Dana, the other day. Kept his promise to Spike for all of 5 minutes in my presence. I got pissed off, got the next flight I could, and here I am. Instant Scheherazade!”

“Don’t quite know where this is leading to. Haven’t had the time to actually speak with Spike alone yet, but I can tell you this. I do love him. With all my heart. I trust him with my life, my sister’s life, and the lives of everyone on this planet. He’s more than proven himself to me. It should be good enough for everyone else.”

“Spike, we need time to see just where we are, what we are, to each other. If you’re willing… I wanna do this right. We need to spend time with each other. We’ll work something out. Are you game?”

Turning to face her, Spike was speechless. He grasped her hands, brought them to his lips, and kissed them gently. He released them, lifted her face gently, and kissed her with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

Neither of them heard the catcalls and applause from most of their audience.

Chapter 7 - These Are The Times That Try Men's Souls

“Damn that infernal Rowling woman!” Giles swore out loud, scaring some of the young Slayers roaming the halls. Striding angrily through the new Slayers Academy, he found himself ranting out loud. “No matter how many times I correct people, no matter how much advertising goes out… I cannot escape the Academy being referred to as ‘Hogwart’s!’ He ran his fingers through his hair, convinced there would be more in his hands than on his head by the time he reached his office.

Time for his meeting with Andrew… a debriefing of sorts, and he couldn’t wait for Buffy to sit in with them. Nobody was happy over the fact that Angel had attained a position of power inside the evil law firm of Wolfram & Hart. No matter how much trust he had placed in the souled vampire over the years, he had never forgotten, nor forgiven him his part in ruining Buffy’s life and the death of his beloved Jenny. Nobody would be happier than he to tear that final veil from Buffy’s eyes, and forever rid her of her vampire attraction. Ripper had nothing on Giles in the grudge-keeping department.

Rounding the final bend, Giles entered his office, to see Andrew doing an almost giddy little jig around the room. Oddly enough, he was… was he actually whistling “Oh What A Beautiful Morning?” What the bloody hell had gotten into the lad?

Stepping quietly into the room, he managed to tap Andrew sharply on the shoulder. With an amused expression on his face, he began, “Andrew, this is no way for a Junior Watcher to behave, especially in the office. What’s up with you, man?”

Andrew’s hands fluttered like birds’ wings for a moment, and he looked for all the world like a Victorian woman suffering from the vapors. When he had collected himself, he replied, “Sorry Mr. Giles. You caught me by surprise. I’m just so happy. Really… just can’t help expressing myself. I feel light enough to fly under my own power, just like Superman.”

“So, son… just what is it that has you flitting all over the place, singing like a lunatic?” Giles repeated patiently, “and where is Buffy? This is an important meeting.”

Taking a few short breaths, Andrew said, “Well… um… Buffy’s not here right now.”

Feeling his vaunted patience growing thinner by the minute, Giles removed his glasses and began to polish them, an unconscious habit well known to all who spent more than an hour’s time around the Senior Watcher. “Andrew! I can see that. I’m not blind you know. I need to know when Buffy can be expected. There are many things I am responsible for here, and I must get this meeting underway before…”

Andrew gulped. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Even though he promised Buffy he wouldn’t say anything to anyone… he felt the time had come to begin the telling of it all.

“Well, Mr. Giles… it’s sorta like this. When I came back, Buffy was here, and we talked, and I told her some things, and she got all angry and nervous and growly and determined and shejustleftforLA.”

Tingles of dread ran down Giles’ neck. What the hell had Andrew said to his Slayer for her to go running off like that, without a word to anyone? With as much restraint as he could muster, Giles placed his glasses firmly back in place, and said, “Settle down, boy, and let’s get this started… where is Buffy and why did she leave?”

“Buffy went to the city of angels, to confront the dragon and rescue the knight,” he replied, backbone ramrod straight under Giles’ fierce gaze.

“Christ, Andrew… don’t you ever just say anything straightforward? My patience is waning, and if you don’t want me to take a page from Buffy’s book and start beating on you, I demand a comprehensible answer from you, immediately.”

Fine, Mr. Giles… just remember, You Asked For It!”

“ANDREW!!!”

“All right, all right already. Hold your horses… Buffy is in Los Angeles. She went to Wolfram and Hart to have a smack down with Angel about why he never told her about Spike being back. Now, she and Spike are going to go off into the sunset and live happily ever after.” Andrew put his hands on his hips, and glared right back at Giles.

There were a thousand different things flashing through his mind before Andrew spoke, but what actually came from his mouth was so far from the expected, that his hand flew to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle an intense case of the most unmanly giggles ever uttered. Within a moment, Giles was on his knees, eyes tearing and chest heaving from the raucous laughter issuing forth.

Trying to gather a modicum of control, he made the mistake of glancing up at Andrew… still standing there with a serious expression on his face, tapping his foot and just waiting for Giles to come to his senses. That was all it took to set him off, again. It was several minutes before he was able to stand and face Andrew with any sense of rationality.

“All right, Mr. Giles, you’ve had your fun… laughed at my expense. Now, you really need to get this through your above average brain. Spike is back. He rematerialized from that amulet that dusted the Uber Vamps and collapsed the Hellmouth. It showed up on Angel’s desk one day in the mail, and when he opened it, out popped Spike, all ghostly. Now, he’s all solid again… and he’s great to hug and all… and he looks good, you know… like he’s actually getting enough blood for a change… and, well, now? Now, he and Buffy are together again, and they’re happy and they’re talking to each other and they have a whole future in front of them. Do you get it now, Mr. Giles? I’m telling it as it is.” By the time he had finished, Andrew was actually huffing, from having run out of breath.

There was an eerie sense of déjà vu to all this. Giles tried hard to remember where and how this had… Ah! That was it… Buffy had said she had been sleeping with Spike, and he had brushed it off as the most asinine thing he’d ever heard.

Perhaps this time, it would behoove him to listen, and learn from his past mistakes.

“All right, Andrew… let’s just say for argument’s sake, that what you say is the truth. Why would Buffy not tell me where she was going, or why?”

One eyebrow raised, head slightly tilted in an eerie approximation of a miniature Spike, Andrew went for the truth. No holds barred.

“Tell me, Mr. Giles… what was your last interaction with Spike back in Sunnydale?”

Giles had the good graces to at least look ashamed. He remembered that horrid collaboration with Robin Wood to take the vamp out, even if he had thought it was the right thing to do. He shuddered to think of what would have happened to the world if Spike had been dusted that night.

Andrew continued. “I know that things with Buffy were strained after you tried to have Spike murdered. And I know things were somewhat better, once we settled in England and before she left for Rome. Riddle me this, however… what would your reaction have been if she had said ‘Hey, Giles… gonna make a quicky trip to LA. Seems that Spike… you know, the vampire I’d been sleeping with and you wanted to kill, is back amongst the unliving. I wanna see if we can make a go of things this time around. Do I have your blessings?’ I’m sure it would have been less than a Little House on the Prairie moment.”

Well! Giles would certainly have to re-evaluate his opinion of Andrew in the future. The little git seemed to have grown a pair somewhere between home and the States. Raising his head to meet Andrew, eye to eye, he said, “Andrew, I must apologize to you. First, I had no right to laugh at you like that. In all honesty, I thought you were joking. I’d once had a similar reaction to one of Buffy’s confessions, and it appears I’ve learned nothing from that encounter. I will endeavour to be more respectful, in the future.”

Looking pleased, Andrew smiled, then said, “Mr. Giles, I do believe it’s not to me that you owe an apology. I’d suggest you place a call to Buffy’s cellular, and speak with Buffy and Spike. There is much ground you need to make up with them. Just think… if Spike decides to come back with Buffy, can you imagine the opportunities? He’s a phoenix, risen from ashes! He’s gone where no man has gone before… and come back! Imagine the entries in your Watcher’s Journal.”

With a nod of agreement, Giles dismissed Andrew, and picked up his phone. Pushed the autodial and waited. Heard the pickup. “Hello, Buffy?”

Chapter 8 - London Bridges

Spike and Buffy left Angel’s offices shortly after their little PDA routine was broken up by the cheers of the crowd, and the low growls of the elder vampire. They were currently enjoying some nice, quiet time alone in Spike’s basement apartment. Wasn’t much to look at, but ambiance wasn’t their first priority. At the moment, both Slayer and Vampire were very much lost to the world around them, caught up in the bliss of their lips touching. They forgot anything that existed besides themselves, the glory of knowing one another again.

Not so lost, however, that Spike didn’t chuckle when he heard the strains of “Wind Beneath My Wings” emanating from the direction of Buffy’s rear-end.

“What’s that, luv? You develop a new talent while I’ve been gone?” Spike said, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “Cute song… now where have I heard it before, hmm?”

Blushing prettily, Buffy glanced at the LED display, and noted the call was coming from London. She picked up the receiver. “Hello, Buffy Summers speaking. Hey Giles. Is everything okay?”

“Hello, Buffy. Everything is not fine here, as you should be well aware. We were supposed to have a debriefing regarding Andrew’s retrieval of Dana, as well as what he’d managed to learn regarding Angel’s involvement with Wolfram and Hart.

“Would you care to tell me just why in the bloody hell you snuck off without telling me? I know we’ve had our differences in regards to your personal life before, but don’t you think for an occasion this momentous that I would have put aside my personal misgivings and wished you well?”

Buffy took a deep breath before she began. It wouldn’t benefit anyone if she flew off the handle before uttering a single word. “Tell me something, Giles. How accommodating would you have been if I told you I needed to go to Los Angeles on personal business, without filling you in on the details? You’d have stood there, all huffy and parenty, and demanded to know just why I had to leave in such a hurry.” She glanced at Spike, who just rolled his eyes and kept silent, and mouthed ‘cleaning his glasses.’

Giles jumped in with both feet. “I know that Spike has been a horrid bone of contention between us, Buffy, but you have to remember several things. First and foremost, I am a Watcher. It was bad enough that I had given some measure of trust to Angel when he entered your life, and we both know how well that ended.”

“Spike was another issue altogether. Unsouled and vicious, he’d tried to kill us all over and over again. I have to be grateful that he did such a piss-poor job of things. Admittedly, you surprised me when you offered amnesty, and my home to the creature when he showed up at my doorstep that Thanksgiving when he’d been chipped, instead of staking him in his weakened condition.”

“Look, Giles,” Buffy began, but was cut off almost immediately.

“I would appreciate you letting me finish. I do feel you owe me that much. I am not trying to be adversarial at the moment, but I must get some of this off my chest before engaging in any sort of civilized conversation with you. Do you understand?”

“Sorry, Giles. Please, go ahead. I’ll be all mousy-like.”

“Thank you, Buffy. Now, as I was saying, living with Spike was not an easy thing, and he was most unappreciative and ungrateful during his tenure here. However, I will admit that he was somewhat useful in patrolling with you, and when you were gone, he took up more than his fair share of the slack that your absence created. He was also wonderful with Dawn, and I suppose nobody ever said a word of thanks to him for it.”

“When you had come back to us, and admitted to me you had been sleeping with him, I know I dismissed it out of hand in a rather rude manner, causing you to close yourself off from further discussion. I am so sorry for helping you to bury your feelings further than they already were at the time. Believe it or not, it was Andrew who made me realize my behavior directly affected your ability to be open and forthcoming about your trysts with Spike.”

From the couch, Buffy could see Spike getting agitated on her behalf. His ‘super vampire hearing’ had given him Giles’ whole attitude so far, and he was rapidly losing patience.

Putting her hand over the receiver, Buffy begged, “Please, Spike… I need to let him get this over with… you don’t have to worry about my feelings. I’m fine, and you know how I feel about you.”

Not saying a word, he stopped his pacing, and sat back down on the couch and huddled into her side, head on her shoulder.

“Giles, please get to the point already. I’ve been there and bear the tattoo,” Buffy sighed.

“And Spike can hear every word I’m saying, yes?” he queried.

“Oh yeah. With a capital uh huh.”

“Well, I have nothing to be ashamed of, Buffy. My feelings are my own, but I shan’t be much longer, I assure you,” Giles stated, and continued. “My biggest fear upon your return was that I had become lax in my duties, not only as your Watcher, but in regards to your friends’ behaviors, as well.”

“Willow’s issues were mounting, as you remember, and Xander and Anya were attempting an adult relationship. Dawn was becoming increasingly difficult to manage after the death of your mother, and your subsequent neglect. I know you tried to be everything to everyone, and ended up nearly destroying yourself in the process. When you started leaving all the big choices up to me, like parenting Dawn, and ignoring your friends’ problems, I knew I had to make you face up to your adult responsibilities, so I left. I believed I was right, in that you would pick up the slack left by my departure.”

Once more, Buffy could practically hear Giles remove and polish his glasses. A time out tactic, she figured.

“I was so wrong, Buffy, and I hope you’ve forgiven me by now for leaving you with far too many responsibilities while you were so unsettled. If I could change anything, it would be the decision to leave you so in the lurch.”

Tearing up at his admission, and recognition that he’d really hurt her by his departure, Buffy allowed, “It’s okay now, Giles. It’s of the past, over and done with.”

“Thank you, Buffy. I promise, this should wrap things up on my part. I appreciate you giving me the time, and you can thank Spike for not interjecting his objections at this point. I can practically see him straining at the leash to tear into the conversation,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I think you’ve hit that nail on the head,” she replied.

“It’s okay, Buffy, honestly, I am rather amazed at his restraint in the matter. No mind, the last bit of what I have to say is very simple and straightforward. When I returned to Sunnydale with the potentials, the Council had just been decimated. I was in what you would refer to as ‘Papa Bear’ mode. When Spike began exhibiting odd behavior, even for him? I couldn’t trust him. Finding out he’d managed to kill more than a dozen people with the chip still in place was not reassuring, and then you had it removed! Do you understand what was going through my mind? That was rhetorical, by the way.”

“I felt your judgment was faulty, and that your growing feelings for Spike were going to get us all killed. When Robin Wood also voiced his concerns, when the prokaryote stone had failed to disarm the trigger implanted in Spike’s brain, I felt I had to make a judgment call. I agreed to let Robin handle the situation while I kept you distracted.”

Even over the phone, Giles could hear a loud growl emanating from Spike, and he hurried to continue.

“I stand by my decision, based on the facts I had at the time. I do regret the fact that I was so single minded in wanting to protect you all, that I failed to even consider the enormity of Spike’s regaining his soul, no matter what the reason. Perhaps if I had bothered to actually talk with him, we could have found a less fatal way to deal with the whole situation.

“I lost your trust that day, Buffy… and I don’t think things have been quite the same since. We’ve mended some fences, but I am aware enough to know we have a long way to go yet. I would like to make a start, by speaking with Spike for a few moments, if that’s okay with you both.”

Practically grabbing the phone out of Buffy’s hand, Spike said, “Allo, Rupert. How’s life been treating you?”

Wearily, the Watcher said, “You’d think I’d be used to this by now, Spike.”

“C’mon, Rupes – it’s a bleedin’ telephone. Surely you’ve had time to get comfortable with the newfangled technology. I’ve got no problems with it, and I’ve been around a hell of a lot longer than you, mate.”

“Not that, you git!” choked out Giles. “I meant with people coming back from the dead.”

“Still dead, ponce.” Spike barely managed to control his amusement.

“Spike, put Buffy back on the phone before I say something I won’t be held responsible for,” Giles ground out.

Handing the phone over to Buffy, Spike was in a far better mood. Winding the old Watcher up was one of his favorite pastimes. Glad to see he hadn’t lost his touch.

“Hey, Giles. You’ve got to forgive Spike. Really, he’s been so good while you said your piece,” Buffy pleaded, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice, as well.

“Fine, Buffy. No problems. I do believe this is a conversation best had face to face, at any rate. At my earliest possible convenience, I’ll arrange for an extended visit to California, and we can do this in a civilized manner. Be well, Buffy. Both you and Spike, and I’ll see you soon.

Hanging up the phone, Giles just shook his head, removed his glasses and prayed for patience.

Chapter 9 – Moon Shadow

The time spent in Africa had been good to Xander. It was amazing what leaving California, potato chips and HoHos could do for a man. He stood straight and tall, and was the most fit and trim he’d been in his entire life. He walked for miles over the countryside on a daily basis. He manned construction crews; helping supervise the building of housing and community offices wherever they were wanted.

He’d let his hair grow long, keeping it pulled back in a ponytail to hold it out of his face; his skin had taken on a slightly weathered appearance with a berrygold hue. He thought the eye patch and the hair gave him a sort of Highlander appearance, ala Adrian Paul, not Christopher Lambert. He looked good and knew it… and paid his appearance no mind whatsoever.

Xander liked to sit outside at night, on the dusty ground. His favorite pastime involved leaning against a huge tree, looking up at the moon and watching the shadows play across the surface. He was at peace within himself. Solitude was no longer a curse.

The young man’s days were usually busy… he would search the little villages for signs of trouble… usually, the male elders of the tribes would isolate an unusually strong, aggressive young female, and were almost always happy when he found a place for them to belong amongst the new Slayers.

He kept in touch with Andrew and Giles, mostly. There was a phone in the mission where he was based. They would call and tell him of a tribe the locator spells the Council performed regularly had pinpointed, or he would call and tell them when another girl had been found.

Tonight, an eerie chill settled in his bones. His grandmother would have said someone was walking across his grave, but he’s still alive and kicking, yes siree. Came close, but still there, mostly in one piece.

Somehow, he knew that things were about to change.

One of the little girls of the tribe came to him, announcing by hand gestures that there was a phone call. He stood up, ran his hands over his rear to shake loose the dirt, and loped towards the mission; sure the phone would herald another adventure.

Sure enough, it was Andrew.

“Hello, Xander,” he said. “How’re things amongst the beasts and the children?”

Laughingly, he replied, “Andrew, my man… don’t change a hair for me. What’s up, buddy?”

“There’s a small village to the south of where you’re stationed, and the elders are going to bring a girl named Sela to you by morning,” Andrew answered. “Would you be able to accompany her to Los Angeles?”

“Why would I be bringing this kid to LA, Andrew?” he asked. “I mean after all, the culture shock from Africa to England is gonna be bad enough – why inflict LaLa land on her as well?”

“Ahhh, well… you see… um,” the nervous Watcher in training stammered, “Mr. Giles is already there, taking care of some Council business. He’ll be able to escort Ms. Sela back to England, and you can go back about your business, without the added bother of coming to England yourself. I remember how difficult it was for you the last time you came back.”

“The G-man himself, huh? Must’ve been very important for Giles to make the trip,” Xander mused.

Unable to avoid it anymore, Andrew said, “Well, yeah… he’s at Wolfram & Hart. He and Angel are in discussions. There is a real disagreement on policy over how to handle the Slayers found in his city, and especially if there are special circumstances, like with Dana.”

He’d heard about that little tale, of course. Xander also knew that there was more to the story than what he was told, but he shrugged it off. No longer intimately affected by the moment to moment goings on of the Council, Giles and Buffy, the young man let many things roll off his back without a second thought.

“Time for bed, Andrew,” he yawned into the receiver. “I want to get an early start back to the States tomorrow.” Started abruptly to realize he hadn’t said ‘home.’ California was no longer home to him. Home was truly where he hung his hat.

After a hurried goodbye, Xander hung up the phone, left the mission building, and crawled into his hut and his bed. Suddenly he was exhausted, knowing there was a long journey ahead of him.

Morning definitely came way too soon for him, and he awoke to the sounds of a jeep horn blaring. Stumbled over to his dresser, where the water basin was… took a quick whore’s bath, splashing his face and neck. Made a half assed attempt to wipe the sweat from his body and dressed.

Sela was waiting in the jeep along with a driver. The trip to the little airport was made in silence. There really was nothing to say – neither the driver nor the girl spoke English, but her destination and journey had been explained by Andrew. Amazing capacity for languages the boy had, Xander thought. Just like Dawn.

At the thought of his little Dawnie, Xander felt slightly melancholy. Not because he missed her, or any of the other Scoobies, because he really didn’t miss them all that much. Not at all, if truth be told.

After the whole epicness… epicnicity? Disaster, worked for him, he decided. After all that craziness had subsided, Xander had taken stock of himself. His Anya was dead… there was no longer a chance that they could mend their relationship. Dawn was fully immersed in her studies in England, and then Rome, when she and Buffy took off. Giles was truly immersed in the rebuilding of the Council to the betterment of all the new Slayers. Willow and Kennedy were off in Brazil, doing something, he guessed.

Shaking his head, Xander couldn’t believe the distance that had formed between the former best friends. Buffy? Well, after the dust settled… she just wasn’t the same. When Spike died, there was just something missing… some spark… some sense of life she had finally regained over the past year. She was just too painful to be around anymore. Nothing he could do would snap her out of her distress, so he opted to do the one thing he had open to him.

He left.

He’d asked Giles to place him where he would be most needed. Where there was something useful he could do. So, Africa became his domain. Slowly but surely, he’d made his way through some of the most remote places on the continent. Couldn’t even name them – just pushed through wherever he needed to be. Good guides, and the luck of the draw.

Sela never uttered a word, just went in the direction she was pointed to. They boarded the plane and settled in for the flight. The girl was happy looking out the window of the plane. At least she wasn’t frightened, Xander thought, by the new experience of the flight, and with the Sela comfortable in her seat, he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep.

He should have known better. Once thoughts of Spike had entered his brain, the former Scooby knew he was doomed. He remembered those last few months with Spike ensconced in Buffy’s basement. Once again, he’d been thrashed by the real Big Bad. For a Master Vampire, he certainly gotten his scrawny ass handed to him more times than Xander could remember. And most of it while wearing a white hat.

He had to chortle to himself at that image. White hair, white skin, white hat… Spike was a vision, to be sure.

When had the lines become so blurred, the man thought to himself. In what reality did EVIL cross the line and sacrifice himself for the rest of the world? When Buffy told the gang of his fiery demise, Xander had no choice but to be impressed.

Even one year ago… especially that year ago, his opinion of the bleached menace left much to be desired. A year ago, Xander had been a bitter, angry man. Even though he’d been the one who left Anya at the altar, when he’d caught the Spike/Anya table polishing show in glorious geeknicolor on Willow’s laptop… Damn, he was livid. He’d gone after Spike with Buffy’s axe, fully intent on beheading the creature and ending things with him once and for all. If it weren’t for Buffy… who knew if the world would still exist?

These days, Xander knew better. He’d accepted his own part in the wedding debacle. He’d begun to understand the enormity of Spike’s metamorphosis from Big Bad to Big Hero. He was only sorry he never had the chance to let Spike know that he knew.

Once they’d changed planes from the little puddle hopper to a jumbo jet at Cape Town International, their flight to LAX was uneventful. Xander and Sela were met by one of W&H’s limousines, and sooner than he was prepared for… Wolfram & Hart stood before them in all its imposing glory.

He looked at Sela, a small smile graced his lips. Long gone were the days of Xanderbabble ™ . Gone were the days when he would try to make everything better by clowning around. The Hellmouth had killed the clown. All clowned out, yup. No more clownage for the Xan-man. The brunet beckoned to Sela, who followed silently behind as they walked into the vampire’s den.

“Are you Mr. Harris? And is this Sela?” They were greeted by a nondescript woman in a suit. “I’m sure you’ve had a long and tiring flight. Please allow me to escort Sela to the conference room, where Mr. Giles and several other Slayers are in attendance.”

With only a small glance in his direction for confirmation, Sela turned, and followed the woman, both quickly retreating down a long corridor. Xander sighed with relief. He always felt better when the responsibility for the Slayer was transferred to someone else.

He walked over to the bank of elevators and quickly scanned the Directory. Mr. Angel – 3rd Floor. Mr. Angel, my ass, he thought. Already the tension headache made him long for the solitary peace of home. Between the flight, the airport and the traffic, he’d already been around more people than he’d seen in the past half year. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Que Sarah, Sarah,” entered the car, pushed button number 3 and up he went.

The doors opened to familiar voices. Xander smiled as he recognized Angel’s and Wesley’s raised in an escalating argument.

“Angel, really… this kind of thing needs to stop. There is absolutely no need for a power struggle between you and the European contingent,” Wes pleaded.

Struggling to keep his temper in check, Angel was about to reply, when he whirled in Xander’s direction, obviously having caught his scent in the air.

“Hey, Deadboy… Watcher, Jr. What’s the sitch? Not too professional arguing in full view of the minions. Isn’t that what offices with closed doors are for?” Apparently, Xander’s new-found maturity went right out the window, in the face of old… acquaintances, and it was back to Scooby-speak in no time flat.

Wes, for one, was pointedly staring at the familiar, but oh so different appearance of the boy he once knew.

“Xander Harris, as I live and breathe. I barely recognize you. The hair is rather different, and the eye patch? Well, I’d heard about the incident with the First. Sorry you had to go through all that, but you look bloody marvelous.” Extending his hand, Wes grasped Xander’s in a firm handshake and looked mighty pleased to see him.

On the other hand, Angel, already simmering from his previous discussion with Wesley, growled softly and looked decidedly uncomfortable. Belatedly, he offered his hand and said, “Harris, don’t call me Deadboy. Is it too much to ask? After all this time?”

His brown eye sparkling with mischief, the brunet snapped to attention and replied, “Yes, Sir! Mr. Angel, Sir!” Got the delivery out straight-faced, and figured he was operating on borrowed time. The seventeen year old clown was back in full force. Apparently some things never change. Winding up the vampire was a game he’d enjoy for the rest of his natural life.

“So, Xander, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” asked the former Watcher. “Seems like it’s old home week at Wolfram & Hart. Mr. Giles is here, Buffy is also…”

At that moment, Angel interrupted with: “Wes, I’m sure Xander is tired. Why don’t we all go into my office for a drink, and we can discuss what he’s doing here in a civilized manner. We have chairs for this kind of thing, and as he so correctly pointed out, a door that closes, keeping our business private.”

“Geeze, Dea… Angel,” Xander corrected himself, “What’s the problem? You actually seem animated. Not a good day for a visit? And what’s this about Buffy being here? I was under the impression that I was delivering a Slayer to Giles for transport back to the mother ship. Looking thoughtfully at Wes, he continued. “Just what would bring Buffy over? Last I heard, she’d refused to come back to LA.”

“I’m sure you heard of the deranged Slayer who had escaped from the hospital last week, Xander. Andrew insisted, with a small army of Slayers backing him up, that we turn her over to Mr. Giles and Buffy for treatment in England. Angel disagreed. He felt that we had more than adequate facilities to help the poor woman. I believe that the presence of both Rupert and the senior Slayer will help iron out a firm policy in the event another unusual circumstance arises.”

Turning to the scowling vampire, Xander asked, “Angel, I know that Giles is in a meeting downstairs with a bunch of slayers, including Sela who came in with me. D’ya mind if I wait up here for him? Will someone let him know I’m here?”

Before Angel could answer, the elevator door opened, revealing its occupants. As they strode into the hallway, Xander froze. Not that seeing Buffy dressed in a delectable pair of black leather pants and a red bustier wasn’t an eye-boggling affair unto itself, but striding along next to her… nah, it couldn’t be. Could it?

He shook his head slowly, in denial. Rubbed his eye with the back of his hand as if that would take the apparition away.

Worry filled the man’s voice as he exclaimed, “Bufster, long time no see. Are you sure that the First is long gone… ‘cause I think I’m seein’ a ghost behind you.”

Buffy chortled.

“Nah, mate. Haven’t been a ghosty for the past couple of months. S’me., in the undead flesh! Come and give old Spike a right proper welcome back kiss.” Blue eyes dancing merrily as he opened his arms wide to playfully mock Xander, he got the shock of this life or any other.

Moving quickly, Xander gathered Spike up in a huge bear hug, planted a firm kiss on his lips and said, “Welcome back, Fangboy.”

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