Title: Demons and Souls, Part 4/?

Author: sibling

Email: sibling@fanfiction.net

Disclaimer: Joss is God of Buffyverse, all hail Joss!

Summary: Tara goes to Spike’s crypt after Buffy’s confession. What follows will eventually lead all three to startling revelations about souls, vampires, Slayers, and (of course) love.

Feedback: Chicken soup for the writer's soul

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Tara lay on her bed in her dorm room, looking through every bit of information on auras -- and what could change them -- that she could find. But the more she looked, the more frustrated she got. There was just no explanation for all the things she had seen at Buffy’s party.

Auras could wax and wane somewhat, when affected by strong emotions . . . or when the person went though major life changes, as Willow’s apparently had when she gave up magic. But the degree of change was usually pretty small. Likewise, strong emotions would cause flashes of different colors to appear, but a fundamental color change was extremely rare, since the dominant color of an aura was a reflection of someone's basic personality, not just their feelings of the moment.

The plain fact that Buffy’s aura had changed so much confused her, and -- she had to admit to herself -- frightened her. After all her research on the resurrection spell, after she had promised Buffy that she was fine . . . could she have been wrong? Had something terrible happened to Buffy when they brought her back, something that had somehow changed her fundamental nature?

As for what she had seen when Spike and Buffy touched . . . two people’s auras might intertwine and even mingle a little, but it should have been completely impossible for two auras to merge into one. Not even identical twins were so much alike that—

The phone ringing interrupted her reverie. “Hello?”

“Tara, it’s Spike. I need your help, or, rather, the Slayer does.”

“Buffy? What’s wrong with her?” She sat up in alarm.

“Luv, I haven’t got the slightest. Dawn and I got here a little bit ago, and found her crying herself sick. She hasn’t said what ‘s wrong, she’s just been crying, or babbling to Dawn that she forgives her for the wish, for stealing all that stuff from the stores . . . for every bleedin’ thing she's ever done!

"Anyway, I went to get her a drink -- to calm her down, of course -- and all I could get her was a glass of water! After that marathon party, Buffy hasn’t got a thing to drink or eat in the entire house -- I think Clem even ate the pancake mix, right out of the box!

"So Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard is bare, neither one of the girls is up to going out, and I don’t want to leave them alone . . . “

“All right, Spike, I get the picture. You just stay right there. I’ll get some take-out and come right over.” Then she thought of something, and wished she hadn't. “Umm, wh-what about you? D-do you n-need anything?”

She heard Spike chuckle wickedly. “Well, you could pick me up a bag of O positive from my crypt--“ Tara’s stomach started to tie itself in knots as she thought of going there, by herself, at night, “--but I don’t think that little detour’s necessary. I can eat regular food. Can't live on it, but it’ll take the edge off. And since coming to the States I’ve developed a real taste for Buffalo wings. The spicier, the better.”

Tara grinned briefly. Spike eating regular food? Buffalo wings? That was just so weird, she had to see it for herself. “Okay. I know a place where I can get wings for you, and other stuff for the rest of us.”

“You can get what you like for yourself, witchy woman, and for the Slayer – just don't get her a hamburger, or she'll brain you for sure -- but the Bit likes wings, and she likes ‘em just like I do, extra spicy. ‘Course, she has to have extra bleu cheese sauce too, havin’ human taste buds . . .”

Tara could adjust to all kinds of things if she tried -- vampires with chips in their heads who ate chicken wings, girls who magically appeared at the age of 14 and hung out with vampires with chips in their heads who . . . etc. The idea of eating bleu cheese, however, was still totally alien to her. “If she’ll eat it, fine, Spike. But she’d better eat some salad, too. Just hold on, and I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

She was about to hang up when she thought of one more thing. It was a bit risky, and it was based on pure guesswork, but if what she had seen last night was real, and not just her Sight gone haywire . . . “One more thing, Spike . . . ?“

“Yeah?” she heard him ask, warily.

“Go be with Buffy. Touch her. Don’t pester her to talk about what’s happened . . . and for God’s sake keep your hormones under control! Just be there for her. I think . . . I think it’ll be good for her.”

There was a long silence at the other end. Then a long sigh. “All right, luv, I’ll do my best. I just hope you’re right. When the Slayer’s upset, she can be real nasty, and I won’t be able to enjoy those wings if she decides to feed me a nice thick stake first.”

Tara said goodbye and hung up, then grabbed her purse and jacket and rushed out the door.

* * *

Spike took a swig from his flask. He still remembered the night, almost a year ago, when he’d come to the Slayer’s house to kill her. He’d wound up trying to comfort her instead, as she sat weeping on her back porch. He’d known that she hadn't really wanted his comfort, and he'd felt stupid just sitting there with her, or patting her on the back, but he’d found it impossible to just walk away.

Eventually Buffy had simply gotten up and gone in the house, without saying a word to him. And she’d never mentioned that night since then. He wondered if she even remembered that he’d been there. He also wondered if he was going to be able to help her this time around.

Tucking his flask back into his pocket, he made his way to the living room. The scene on the couch was pretty much as he had left it. Buffy was still caught between sobbing and babbling to Dawn. The brunette was trying to comfort Buffy, but was getting confused and frightened by her older sister’s behavior.

Finally, Spike noticed the boxes and papers lying discarded on the coffee table. He was sure they hadn't been there last night when the party had finally broken up. Being careful not to disturb the Summers sisters, he glanced through them. It took him only moments to scan the letter and take in the two portraits.

He took a deep breath -- he didn't need to breathe, but the age-old human instinct was still there, and it did help him focus his thoughts -- and forced his anger down. He'd deal with the Guilt Fairy another time.

Then he crept up behind Dawn, and whispered to her, “Niblet, please? Let me in? Maybe I can help.” And he silently prayed -- to anything that would listen to a vampire -- that Tara was right.

* * *

Dawn bit her lip, and looked back at her sometime protector. She wanted to be the one to help her sister, who’d been there so many times for her . . . but she felt so frustrated. Why wouldn't Buffy stop crying?

As she looked helplessly at Spike, she thought ruefully that maybe it would be a relief to let one of the “grownups” take over . . . as long as he didn’t try to shut her out.

She nodded, and whispered, “Okay.” She gently shifted Buffy’s shoulder a little to let Spike slide in behind her. And soon it was Spike who was gently embracing the petite blonde and murmuring in her ear. Dawn had moved over to Buffy’s other side, and was stroking her hair.

She couldn’t hear what Spike was saying to her sister -- even if he was saying anything at all -- but it seemed to be working. Buffy finally stopped crying, and after a minute or two, she accepted the glass of water from Dawn and took a sip. Then, as she looked at Dawn, she seemed to realize that someone else was holding her. She turned suddenly, and came face-to-face with the blond vampire. “S-s-s-spike?” she hiccuped. “What are you doing here?”

Dawn saw Spike start to get that . . . wounded look that only Buffy could inspire in him. And she knew that in a moment, he would say something nasty and defensive that would ruin all the good he’d just done. So she answered for him.

“He walked me home from the Library.” And as Buffy opened her mouth, she added, ”And he was going to leave us to our happy little sisterhood-bonding night until he saw what a mess you were. He got you that glass of water you're holding, I think I heard him calling someone about food, and he was able to calm you down, when I couldn’t even get you to talk to me straight! So don’t go all Slayerful on him and thank him, for Pete's sake!”

The look on Buffy’s face was priceless.

* * *

To describe Buffy’s emotional state at this time as “confused” would have been the understatement of the century. She was still trying to deal with the thought of Faith wanting her forgiveness, Faith being sorry that Buffy had died . . . and herself being sorry that Faith had died. It was all too much for her to handle.

And now she was being comforted by Spike, who was the closest thing she had to an archenemy. (At that thought, she added a brief mental Ppffft! to Warren, who was only her arch-hemorrhoid.) She was being comforted by Spike, who had tried to kill her so many times . . .

And who had saved her life, and Dawn’s, so many times . . .

She mentally gritted her teeth and reminded herself of all the times Spike had taunted her, and humiliated her, and hurt her.

But he was here now, as he had been so many times since she had been brought back, comforting her, caring for her . . . loving her? Was it really possible?

* * *

Dawn watched in alarm as Buffy looked up at Spike. She had that look in her eyes, the one that said she was having one of her Moments. Dawn didn’t think she was going to like this, and she was sure that Spike wouldn't.

“Spike?” Buffy asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. “I’m going to ask you a question. And for once, just for once, I want a straight answer from you. No jokes, no put-offs, no sarcasm.

“Are you sorry for anything you’ve ever done?”

Dawn blinked. This was the last thing she expected to hear from Buffy. Buffy always saying, “Vampires don't have souls, they don't feel anything real.” And that always went double for Spike, even after all he'd done.

But she began to feel a little gleam of hope, down at the bottom of her heart. She’d talked to Spike more than anyone else had during that horrible summer when Buffy was . . . not there. And she’d really listened to him. She knew what she hoped he'd say . . . what he'd probably been aching to say to Buffy since she'd been back.

Spike looked right back into Buffy’s eyes. And slowly nodded.

“I’m sorry . . . that I failed you, and the Bit, that night on the tower. You asked me to do something for you, and I let you down. I might've done a lot of awful things to you, in the past . . . but that one was the worst."

He stopped speaking, but Buffy just stared at him, clearly expecting more. Spike sighed, then looked over Buffy's shoulder at Dawn "Bit, I’m sorry that when I helped you break into the Magic Box, I didn’t follow you back to the house. I heard about what you did afterwards," he glanced at Buffy, "and even if I couldn't have made you finding out about being the Key any easier, I could've made sure you didn't hurt yourself, or run into any crazy Hellgods while you were still upset."

And . . . “ he was clearly trying to think now. He looked back at Buffy. “I’m sorry about the night I chained you up and threatened to sic Dru on you. Although,” he added pointedly, “I think you should remember that I didn’t do it, even when you practically spat in my face!"

He stopped, and Dawn thought she heard him growl, deep in his chest, but then he continued.

"I can come up with a whole list if you like, pet, but basically I'm sorry for every terrible thing I've ever done to you, or Dawn."

Buffy stared at him, and then . . . cocked her head to one side, in a gesture -- Dawn realized with a shock -- that she had taken from Spike. “Anything else? What about what you’ve done to my friends, to Xander, and Willow . . . and Tara?”

Dawn blinked at the mention of Tara’s name – she liked Tara a whole lot, and she knew Buffy considered her a friend, but when had Buffy added her to the “short list" that had just been "Xander and Willow" for so long?

Spike pressed his lips together into a thin line. Then he answered, slowly, “Xander and I have a nice, comfortable, mutual hatred. I haven’t done or said anything to him that he hasn’t returned, or at least tried to, with interest.

“Red . . . well, she's another story. I don’t think she likes me . . . but she doesn't hate me. She's the only one I know who never bears a grudge. And she convinced you all to keep me from staking myself, when all I wanted to do was give up. So yeah, I guess I’m sorry for the time I kidnapped her . . . and for the couple of times I tried to bite her.

“As for Tara, I’ve never done anything to her. Except for that time that I punched her in the nose, and as I recall, that was a good thing.”

* * *

Spike waited for Buffy to reply. He was holding onto his temper, but just barely. He hoped Buffy would just let this go.

She didn't. “You talk about regret like it’s only something you owe to the people you know, and like," she said. "What about all the people you've killed over the years? Do they mean nothing to you?”

Now Spike got angry. “Is it really all that different for you? What about all the vampires you've slain over the years?"

"They were evil," Buffy said defensively.

"Evil? Ha! Your average minion is too stupid to be evil! They don't know anything except hunger. They're not even smart enough to run away when they see you stake a couple of their pals.

"But if you want to make evil the issue, fine! Forget about all those nameless, faceless dust piles. What about old Spike, the Big Bad himself? I've been evil, sure, but not everything I've done has been evil! And have I ever gotten an apology or an ounce of credit from you?"

He was losing his temper, and he knew it. And he didn't care. "What about the time you left me tied up in the middle of a fight, starving, without a chance to defend myself or even dive for cover? I couldn't have hurt you, and I was offering you information about the Initiative, but I wasn't even worth trying to protect!

"What about all the times you've come over to my crypt to beat information out of me? Or just to beat me up for the fun of it? What about the other night, when you beat me almost senseless because I tried to keep you from throwing your bloody life away!

"Maybe it's too much to ask, but once, just once, I'd like you to even consider apologizing to me!"

"And what would it mean if I did?!" Buffy shot back at him.

Spike stared at her a moment, his face just inches from hers, and tightly replied, "It would mean everything, luv. To me, at least."

* * *

Dawn held her breath. The two of them had obviously forgotten that she was even in the room. And they were . . . staring at each other, like they were going to start fighting or start . . .

The doorbell rang.

The moment was broken, but the tension was still there. After a long silence, the bell rang again, and Spike said, "That's probably Tara, with dinner."

Buffy just nodded and said, "I'll go let her in." She got up and started for the front door.

Dawn felt her heart sink into her shoes. Was Buffy really going to leave things like this? Sometimes she could be such a-

Buffy suddenly turned around. "S-spike?" she choked. Dawn could see there were tears in her eyes again.

The blond vampire looked at her, but didn't say a word.

When Buffy spoke, her voice was so quiet Dawn could barely make out the words:

"I'm sorry."

Then she ran for the door to greet Tara, as Spike and Dawn stared after her in wonder.

Title: Demons and Souls, Part 5/?

Author: sibling

Email: sibling@fanfiction.net

Disclaimer: By now, you know I don't own these characters. Mr. Mutant Enemy does.

Summary: Tara goes to Spike’s crypt after Buffy’s confession. What follows will eventually lead all three to startling revelations about souls, vampires, Slayers, and (of course) love.

Feedback: Makes my day

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The door opens.

“Hi Tara.”

“Hello, Buffy. God, you look awful.”

Wry look. “Thanks a lot, Anya.”

Sheepish smile. “Sorry, that just came out. But you do, you know?”

“Yeah, well, I’ll bet I still look better than I feel.”

Concerned look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah, I’m all talked out. Spike and I-“

Anger. “Did he push you? I told him not to push you.”

“You did? Huh. Well, don’t be mad. He didn’t push . . . I did.”

Confusion. “Huh?”

Dismissal. “Please, not now. We can talk later. Much later.” Sniff, sniff. “Buffalo wings? Please tell me you got something besides Buffalo wings.”

“Wings for Spike, wings, sides, and salad for Dawn, and fried chicken, sides, and salad for the two of us.”

Childlike pleading. “Potato salad?”

Smile. “I remembered. It's the kind you like, with egg in it. God, how can you eat like that and still look like . . . that?”

Shrug. “Slayer metabolism. All that strength hasta come from somewhere. C’mon, I hear that potato salad calling my name.”

* * *

Dawn and Spike wanted to just crash-and-munch in front of the television. Buffy insisted on the dining room table. “That couch has been through years of zombie, vampire, and demon abuse, and somehow survived pretty much intact. I am not going to let you get wing sauce stains all over it."

She managed to get that out by staring right at Dawn when she said it.

So they all sat and ate at the dinner table. Dawn and Tara talked, and ate, and talked some more. Spike just sat and ate, and occasionally looked at her. And she sat, and ate a little, and looked back at him. And felt terrible.

God, how could she have been so . . . awful? She thought about what she’d put Xander and Willow through in the aftermath of her battle with the Master and her first “death.” That had been happy fun-time compared to what she’d done to Spike.

What she’d done to him – what they’d done to each other -- when they were actual enemies was one thing. She had realized afterward that Spike hadn’t brought up that stuff at all when asking for an apology.

But there were the things she’d done when he was helpless. The things she’d done when he’d said he loved her. The things she’d done when he’d proved that he loved her.

Spike had real, human feelings. He loved her. Really, deep down, whole-hearted, give-his-life-for-her loved her. He loved – in a big-brotherly, protective kinda way – Dawn. He liked Willow, and apparently liked Tara well enough to trust her with – she thought wryly -- the proper feeding of the ones he loved. He hated Xander, sure, but it seemed like a human-y hate, no worse than what she felt for, say, the dork who’d tried to come on to her at work today. Spike and Xander still managed to work together -- just like she’d managed to give the dork his order without pouring his drink on his head.

She’d demanded that Spike prove his humanity by being sorry for what he’d done. But what was more human than wanting to be treated . . . well, like a human being?

When he'd looked right in her eyes, and not only asked for an apology, but also told her how much it would mean to her, it hit her. For once, she hadn't seen him as Spike, the Master Vampire. She'd seen him as Spike, the Man in Pain. And she had caused that pain.

Spike had feelings. And she had stomped all over those feelings. Tried to pretend they didn’t even exist. Even Angelus had never done that to her.

Tara and Dawn were still going at it.

“But I already had some salad!”

“Well, have some more! And have some more carrots in it, they’re good for your eyesight.”

“If I eat another carrot, I’m going to turn into a bunny! Hey, you think I could scare Anya into getting off my case about the Magic Box stuff if I was a giant bunny?”

The vision of Faith’s portrait swam in front of her. Not from thoughts of Faith herself – she had walled those feelings away for another time, when she could talk them over with someone who’d been there, like Willow or Xander. But she was suddenly aware that when you've done something wrong, you never knew when you would run out of opportunities to correct it. Life was short . . . especially for Slayers. She wanted . . . no, she needed to say something or do something more.

But she didn’t know what to say, or what to do. After her hasty, whispered apology, all the fire had seemed to run out of her, as it always did these days when she was apart from him. The inspiration, the spark that would’ve told her what to do next just wasn’t there. She didn’t really feel empty, but she felt . . . gray. Faded. Incomplete.

She didn’t love Spike . . . she thought.

But it looked as though she needed him. And she wanted to need him in a good way. Not as a dirty little secret. Not as something to be ashamed of.

As a friend. As a companion. As a partner.

But could there be more?

Could she love him?

And did she want to?

* * *

Tara tried to be inconspicuous as she watched Buffy and Spike look at each other all through dinner. She didn't know what had gone on between Buffy and Spike before she had arrived, but she could make some guesses. Dawn was acting like a little kid -- Tara almost expected her to start dancing around, singing, "I know something you don't know!"

She couldn't quite tell if Spike was happy -- he just looked stunned. He kept glancing across the table at Buffy as if he didn't quite believe that they were just sitting down together, at dinner, like normal people. And as she'd blurted out when she'd arrived, Buffy looked awful. White-faced and red-eyed. Sad. And the looks she kept throwing Spike could only be described as guilty. And needy.

Tara was sorely tempted to take Dawn somewhere and let Buffy and Spike finish whatever it was they'd started, but Buffy didn't look like she was ready to finish it. And she didn't think Dawn would be particularly happy about being shuffled off somewhere -- Tara actually found herself glancing over her shoulder, afraid she'd see that demon -- Halfrek? -- standing there.

The bottom line was, Buffy just looked too drained to do anything more. And following that metaphor, what she needed was a recharge. Some nice, simple, undemanding fun. And then she remembered a conversation she'd had with Dawn early in the summer when she and Willow were moving into her mother's old room . . .

* * *

[June 2001]

"Dawn, what's with this box?"

"Let me see." Dawn came over and looked in the box. "Oh. That 's our old 'Extra Special Pick-Me-Up Night' box. When Mom and Dad split up, we were all . . . going through some bad times. Every now and then, it would get really bad. At that point, Mom would declare an Extra Special Pick-Me-Up Night. We'd get together, pick out one of the things in that box, and do it. There are a few of our favorite games, a couple of fun movies . . . and an emergency supply of hot chocolate. I don't think there's been a Pick-Me-Up Night since Buffy went to college, but look, it's still in there. Mom swore that she would never raid the hot chocolate from that box unless it was a Pick-Me-Up Night, because you never knew when you would really need it."

Tara put her arm around Dawn. "Do you need it now?"

The young brunette looked up, and bit her lip. "I . . . I don't want this to sound wrong, but I couldn't do that right now. Without Mom . . . without Buffy . . . it just wouldn't be the same. I don't want to get rid of this box -- it got us through some really hard times -- but for right now, I think we need to put it away." Then she brightened. "But we wouldn't need to raid this box to just have some hot chocolate -- there's some in the cupboard downstairs!"

Tara laughed, and put the box back in the closet where she'd found it.

* * *

[The Present]

Dawn saw Tara suddenly stop eating. Then she smiled, and leaned over and whispered, "Hey Dawnie? Remember that box in your mother's closet?"

Dawn just looked at her blankly for a moment. "What? Oh!" Her eyes brightened, and a huge smile appeared on her face as she realized what the blonde had in mind. "Tara, you're a genius!" Then she looked over at Buffy. "Buffy?" she called out.

"Hmm?" came the half-hearted reply.

Dawn pretended to study Buffy a moment, tapped her nose with her index finger, and then said in her best Know-it-All Doctor Voice, "You look like you need a Pick-Me-Up. An Extra Special Pick-Me-Up!"

Buffy's eyes widened. Then a small smile came to her face. "You think we could? But what about-" she waved her hand, indicating Tara and Spike.

"Well, Tara just has to be included, since she was the one who suggested it!" She turned to look at Tara, and smiled at her. "And I would like to officially invite Spike to this Pick-Me-Up Night . . ." her voice trailed off as she looked over at the vampire, "as long as he wants to stay."

"What's involved in this Pick-Me-Up Night?"

"Games or movies, and hot chocolate."

"But there isn't any hot chocolate -- or much of anything else, for that matter -- in the house. Why do you think I had Tara bring dinner over? You're cleaned out, girls."

Dawn patiently explained about the box, and the emergency supply.

"Well, I guess I could stay. But I think we've all had enough of games, " and Dawn looked sheepish at Spike's glare, "for quite a while. And I hope these movies aren't all sappy girlie films." Spike made a face.

Dawn tried to think. Some of them were "sappy girlie films," although not many of them were romantic-sappy. When Mom had been the one to really need a Pick-Me-Up, the last thing she had needed was a reminder of her own broken marriage.

Amazingly, it was Buffy who came up with the perfect solution.

Of course, at first Dawn just thought she had gone crazy. Her sister suddenly made this goofy face, and starting singing a nonsense song over and over: "Da da-da da-da da, da da-da da-da, da da-da da-da da da, hello folks! Da da-da da-da da, da da-da da-da, da da-da da-da da da, hello folks!"

Everyone in the room just stared at her. Then Dawn got it, and almost laughed herself silly. "Buffy! Wow! I almost forgot about that one! And maybe Spike can even explain some of the British stuff we never got!"

Spike looked at the two of them like they were both crazy. "What the hell are you two birds going on about?"

Dawn explained. "It's one of the movies in that box. One of Mom's favorites, but both of us liked it too. It's a Scottish movie called Comfort and Joy." She glanced at Buffy. "Appropriate, much?"

Spike snorted. "Sounds like the title of a Christmas movie."

Dawn went on. "Well, it takes place at the holiday season . . . but I can't say too much. The first time she put it on for us, Mom said you can't try to explain this movie ahead of time, or you'll ruin it."

Tara said, "Sounds like fun to me. Spike?"

Spike seemed to squirm as three pairs of feminine eyes gazed pleadingly at him. Dawn was sure it was the hazel pair across the table from him that made him squirm the most. "All right, all right. But I reserve the right to split if this flick gets too sappy . . . after I finish my hot chocolate, of course," he added in a mutter.

* * *

Spike stayed through the whole film. And he was the one who said, as they turned off the TV, "Cor! You think it's really possible to do that?"

Tara shrugged. "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like it before."

Buffy said smugly, "It can be done. You can find it in some Mexican restaurants."

Spike looked disgustedly at Dawn and Buffy. "You knew about something like this, and never told me?"

Dawn protested, "I never knew you'd be interested! I thought you didn't like sweet stuff like that!"

Spike gave her a wicked grin. "Not usually. But I'm always up for new experiences." He held off on winking at Buffy, though. She looked like she was finally feeling better, and he didn't want to ruin things again.

Then he looked at the time. "Bugger! Everything'll be closed by now. If I'm going to try that out, I'll have to wait 'till tomorrow night!"

Tara looked up at him. "I'm free tomorrow night. How about you guys?" She looked at Buffy and Dawn.

Spike hadn't been planning on another get-together . . . he'd just figured on a blood entrÈe and stopping by the restaurant for a little take-out dessert. But he held his tongue. He didn't want to hurt Tara's feelings . . . and maybe he'd get to see Buffy again.

The two sisters just looked at each other. Buffy was the first to reply, "Well, Dawn and I had originally planned the next couple nights to be just for the two of us -- like tonight was supposed to be -- but I wouldn't mind if she wouldn't."

Dawn smiled impishly. "And miss out on the dessert you guys are planning? Uh-uh! Count me in!"

Buffy said suddenly, "What about the others? Xander, and Anya, and . . . Willow?"

Tara said, "I think Xander and Anya were planning to stay in for a while. She kinda had a bad reaction to being shut up in here, and I think she said something about having Xander make her forget all about it." She made a face -- they all knew what that meant. She looked over at Buffy and Dawn. "I believe . . . Willow's plans are open for tomorrow."

Spike grinned to himself when he saw Tara's say Willow's name. He was glad the two witches were starting to patch things up. And a night out with a group might help them, too. "I wouldn't mind if Red came along."

Buffy brightened. "Then it looks like we'll be meeting again tomorrow? Here, at seven o'clock?"

Spike couldn't hold back on that opening. He looked straight at her and said, "It's a date, luv."

Buffy is so beautiful when she blushes, he thought.

TBC

Author's note: No, I'm not going to tell you readers what they're going out to get! If you want to know, go rent the movie Comfort and Joy.

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