When Buffy finally drifted back to sleep, Spike slid quietly from the bed. Quickly pulling on his clothes, he made his way downstairs. The living room was empty, but in the kitchen he found Dawn and Faith. Dawn was perched atop the counter, long legs swinging, paging her way through the phone book. Meanwhile, the Slayer rummaged around in the refrigerator, muttering to herself as glass containers clinked against one another.

"I'm tellin' ya, chicklet, we don't need to get delivery. I can make it myself," Faith said. She straightened up and held a jar of tomato sauce over her head in triumph. "Ta da!"

Spike grinned. "And what is it we're making then, ladies?"

Dawn looked up and sighed. "Spike, tell Faith she can't make a pizza."

Spike quirked an eyebrow up and looked from one girl to the other and back again. "Why can't she? Law 'gainst it or something?" Spike asked. He glanced at the counter by the stove. "Seems to have all the ingredients laid out here."

Dawn pouted. "It'll take too long."

"A half hour!" Faith cried indignantly. "Besides, I'm the one who was craving it. I can make it if I want to." Faith paused to smirk at Spike. "Unless you and B just worked up one helluva an appetite and you gotta eat now..."

"Ah, ah, ah," Spike said, holding up a hand. "Slayer, let's not be crass in front of the niblet."

"I'm not a little kid," Dawn pointed out. "It's not like I can't imagine what you and my sister were doing all afternoon."

Spike looked pointedly at the teenager. "Yeah, but do you really want to be imagining it, hmm?"

Dawn grimaced. "Ew. No." She hopped off the counter.

Spike chuckled. "Go on and make your pie, luv," he told Faith. "Got to dash out for a bit." He started across the room before Faith tugged on his arm.

"Woah, hang on, man. Wes is here. He wants to make with the big group brainstorming session soon," Faith told him.

Spike shrugged. "Yeah, and he'll still be here in an hour, right?"

"Duh. He's staying for a while."

"Well, then, start without me. Won't be long, promise." Spike left the kitchen and headed for the front door, when he realized he'd loaned the rental car to Willow. Ah, hell, he thought. The walk'll be nice.

***

I love her? she wondered. Woah, where did that come from?

The shop was smaller than the old place back in Sunnydale, and slightly less musty. For anyone except Willow, the general atmosphere would’ve seemed downright cheerful, but not to her. There was no perky ex-demon behind the counter. There was no tweed-clad Watcher doing inventory amongst ancient leather-bound books. In short, it wasn’t the Magic Box, and Willow cringed at the memory of destroying that home away from home so recklessly through the misuse of her powers.

But now was not the time to linger on regrets and nostalgia. Now was the time to gather ingredients, summon up her strength and courage, and get busy. She scanned her half of the list Wes had supplied her with, wandering through the close aisles, plucking herbs and incense from shelves and dropping them into her shopping basket. She heard Wes’s slightly nasal tone in inquisitive conversation with the sales clerk, asking where the buckthorn and wormwood could be found.

Willow cross-checked the contents of her basket against the list one last time, then emerged from the aisles and rejoined Wes at the front of the store. “Got your half?” she asked him, glancing at the counter.

“All but the violet essence, which is being retrieved for us,” he replied. “Then, of course, we’ll need to collect the nail clippings from the two of them, and I do believe we shall be ready.”

***

Dawn knocked on the bedroom door once before entering, causing Spike to jump slightly and whirl around abruptly.

"Can't go just bargin' in, niblet," he said sternly, zipping up his jeans. "Wasn't entirely decent."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said with a hint of impatience. "It's almost time. I'm here to collect your sample."

Spike swept a wrinkled T shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. "Excuse me, sample? What the hell do you mean by sample?"

Dawn withdrew a pair of nail clippers from her pocket. "Sample. DNA. Fingernails. Duh, what'd you think I needed?"

Spike looked at her pointedly, one eyebrow raised. Dawn regarded him blankly for a moment, then wrinkled her nose. "Ew! Ew! A world of no!"

Spike chuckled and sat down on the bed. "Right, then, go on, ducks." He held out his hands, and Dawn took one, cutting off a corner of the nail on his right index finger, which she deposited into a baggie.

"This gonna help out with the spell, then, eh?" he asked.

Dawn nodded. "Everything's almost set up. Wes needs you in the basement ASAP." He nodded, and Dawn left the room, leaving Spike alone. He sighed heavily, and got up, regarding himself in the mirror above the dresser. Moment of truth, he thought, studying his reflection. This'll either work and set everything to rights, or else... It won’t. He tried to shove the fear away, but it kept presenting itself, mingled with the image of Buffy's face before his, tear-stained and frantic in the last few moments before he'd met his end in the Hellmouth. Fuck... Spike tugged the door open so hard it banged loudly against the wall behind it. He strode with determination down the hall, his eyes scanning about. "Buffy?" he called. "Buffy!" She bounded up the stairs two at a time. "What? What is it? Are you okay?"

He had her pinned against the wall and crushed beneath a blinding kiss within moments, his hands roaming along her lithe body with undisguised need.

Buffy staggered back slightly. “What was that for?” she murmured, gazing up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.

“Do I need a reason?” Spike asked, his hands slowly sneaking their way under her shirt, fingertips skimming along the cups of her bra, outlining her nipples as they began to rise and peak.

Buffy gulped, and her eyes fluttered shut. “Uh…” she began, steadying herself against the wall, “the last time I talked to you, you seemed more than a little pissed off.”

Spike backed up a step, withdrawing his hands from her body and shoving them into his pockets. “Yeah, about that,” he said, studying the floor. “I’m sorry, pet. I should’ve told you what’s goin’ on.”

Buffy folded her arms in front of her chest. “So tell me now.”

Spike looked down the narrow hallway in both directions, then took Buffy by the elbow and steered her back into her bedroom. Shutting the door, Spike sighed and raked his hands through his hair, his heartbeat picking up its pace to an uncomfortable degree. Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him for long moments until he finally spoke.

“I’m human,” he said, with a half shrug.

Buffy blinked at him. “Yeahhhh, I kinda got that part,” she replied.

“However,” Spike continued, starting to pace the length of the room, “I don’t quite know if I’m just human.”

“Huh?”

Spike whipped around and faced her, his body tense, a small vein bulging from his forehead angrily. “Hit me,” he commanded suddenly. “Clock me one real good… or try to, at any rate.”

Buffy blinked at him again, opening her mouth and closing it as Spike held up his hand to her.

“Just do it, Summers,” he said. “Swear you’ll do no more damage to me than you ever did back when I was a spot more allergic to sunlight.”

Buffy frowned, but stood up and clenched her fists. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said softly.

“No,” Spike countered. “Hurt me, baby. Give it your all. I’m sure I deserve it for somethin’ or other.” He raised his hands, palms up, the fingers fanning toward himself in a beckoning gesture. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “If you say so.” She waited half a second, feinted to the left, then swung out, fast and wild, with a right hook aimed directly for Spike’s jaw. Before her fist could connect, however, he’d caught it and spun her around, clutching her back to his chest and gripping her in a modified choke hold.

“How did you --”

“I don’t know,” he said, releasing her. “But goes ‘long with my injuries, or lack thereof.” He lifted his shirt and pointed to his ribcage, now completely free of bruises. “Heal just as bloody fast as I used to.”

Buffy studied him carefully for a moment. “It’s because of the vampire you, isn’t it?” she asked. “The connection, the link… it goes both ways or something.”

“I would suspect so,” Spike replied. “Plus, the git rather confirmed as much himself.”

Buffy sat back down. “We do this spell, separate you two…”

“And I’m weak as a kitten, yeah,” Spike said, crouching on the floor in front of her. “Can’t be of much use to you in battle then, I’m afraid. ‘Bout as much of a liability as Harris.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Hey, Xander can hold his own, mister!” she said defiantly. “I think you probably can, too.” She smiled at him.

Spike’s expression remained sober. “Gonna die again one day, too,” he said sadly.

“What are you saying, that you don’t want to be human? That you don’t want us to do the spell?” Buffy’s tone grew desperate, worried, the gleam in her green eyes sparkling fervently. “Spike, I love you, human… vampire… strong… weak… mortal… It doesn’t matter to me.”

“That’s what you told Riley once upon a time,” Spike said quietly.

Buffy slapped Spike hard across the face, the force of the blow so great he toppled from his hovering squat and sat down heavily on the floor with an audible thud.

“Did it ever occur to you that…” Buffy’s voice trailed off, and she stood up, gesturing weakly as if trying to pluck the right words out of the air. She shook her head and sank to the floor beside Spike. “I love you,” she repeated. “Don’t compare yourself to anyone ever again.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.

“Are you going to keep pissing me off forever? Seriously?” Buffy asked, offering him a tiny grin.

Spike’s face softened, a short laugh rumbling in his chest. “It’s quite likely, yeah.”

She kissed him then, her lips sweet and soft on his, and she wound her legs around his waist. Spike let her straddle him, shifting his torso up to meet hers, fingers tangling in her hair. His mouth moved from hers to nuzzle her neck, taking in the mingled scents of vanilla and strawberry on her freshly-showered skin... soap, powder, perfume... it intoxicated him, and he groaned as the crotch of his jeans tightened around him. Buffy nudged against him, lightly grinding herself down in a lazy circular rhythm, her hands trailing over the sharp bones of his shoulder blades.

Reluctantly, she extricated herself from his arms. “C’mon,” Buffy said decisively. “There’s work to do.”

Chapter 28

The basement was dark, save the flickering of two lone candles, one of which was clasped tensely in Spike’s hands, with the other in those of his counterpart. Faith had a crossbow trained on the vampire. “You drop that and you’re dust,” she’d told him when Willow gave him the candle.

“Oh, yeah,” he’d sneered. “I’d hate to shorten my life by twenty minutes.

But he’d held it grudgingly, and somehow this bothered Faith. He has to know what we’re gonna do to him, she thought. So where’s the struggle?

From the center of a circle ringed with incense, Willow sat cross-legged and peaceful, chanting softly in Latin for a few minutes before her eyes flew open and trained on the vampire.

“Solve hoc vinculum reserandum!” she cried.

Across the room, Spike gripped his candle tighter, his knuckles whitening.

***

Upstairs, Buffy was folded into a small huddle, nearly hidden in the corner of the couch. “Why can’t I be down there?” she asked, her voice soft, quavering. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

Xander couldn’t meet her eyes. “I think they were afraid that if something happened… if it doesn’t end up working right…”

Buffy hugged her knees closer to her chest. “That’s exactly why I should be down there.”

Xander reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It’ll work,” he said. Buffy looked up at him, smiling gently, sadly, and squeezed his hand back.

When the thunderous crash sounded from the basement, Buffy sprang to her feet and dashed across the room for the door. Xander bolted up to stop her, but she was too quick. Taking the stairs two at a time, she tried in vain to see through the dimness to figure out what had happened.

Suddenly the lights clicked on, and Buffy squinted against the abrupt brightness to see Spike, Willow, and Faith gaping at a creature shaped somewhat like a man, but the shiny, blood-colored skin, yellow eyes, and mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth revealed it to be something else entirely.

The spell had worked, though. That much was obvious, because the creature was still wearing the same clothes it had been when it was still tethered to Spike. As Buffy observed the demon, her mind spun. This is their true form, she realized. This would be what a vampire looks like without its human side.

She turned to the others, even as the demon snarled and violently struggled against its ropes. She beamed at Spike, somewhat wild-eyed and in awe, withdrew a stake from her pocket, and handed it to him.

“I think this one is yours to slay,” she said.

A grateful smile spread across Spike’s face as he accepted the weapon. Standing up, he regarded the creature and slowly began to circle it.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “This is the Big Bad? This is the motherfucker what turned me into such an evil bastard?”

Spike cocked his head to one side and studied the demon, his eyes softening from their previous expression of somewhat gleeful hatred into one of almost detached pity. “Somehow, I thought… I dunno, I figured you’d be a spot more intimidating,” he said, crouching down to meet the creature at eye level. “Thought if I ever saw you… really saw you as you are, that you’d scare the shit out of me… but you don’t.” He shook his head, and the demon growled, struggling against its bonds.

“In the end,” Spike continued, standing up, “you’re really just rather sad.” He grasped the stake, hefting it in his left hand, and let it bounce on his palm, feeling the weight of the wood. “Thanks for the memories, mate,” he said with a smirk, “but I’m afraid you’ve worn out your welcome.” 

Spike thrust the stake through the creature’s heart, and its already-hideous face contorted into agony, the mouth opening as if to scream, but no sound came. The demon was a pale mist of ash wafting through the air, and then…

It was nothing.

Spike whirled around, his eyes wide as he grinned at Buffy. "I'm still here!" he said. "Did him in, and I'm still here!"

Epilogue

Buffy hung up the phone and frowned slightly. This wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to enroll Dawn in school, get a job, slay some vampires, and otherwise make a life for herself here in Cleveland. No, it wasn’t adventurous or interesting, but it was normal. Mostly. This new idea of Giles’s… that would very much be not of the norm.

Still, though, it might be pretty cool, and the scenery would certainly be more interesting than that of northern Ohio. It had only been a few days since the demon had been destroyed, but already things were becoming comfortable around the house. Kennedy was home from the hospital, Wes and Fred had gone back to LA, and of course there was Spike.

Buffy grinned to herself as she thought of him. She had already planned a surprise for him today, which Buffy knew would make him happy. This news, however… how would he take it?

Okay, fun thing first, other thing later, she decided.

She steeled herself with a deep breath, then swung open the bedroom door. Buffy's smile immediately fell as she stared open-mouthed at the scene before her.

"Spike!" Buffy rushed to his side and snatched the gift-wrapped box away from him, swatting at his hands. "Where did you find that?! Mitts off!"

"But it's got my name on it, luv," Spike said. "As for findin' it, nearly tripped me up sticking out halfway from under the bed."

"It wasn't halfway under the bed when I put it there," Buffy replied. "Are you sure you weren't getting snoopy?"

Spike grinned. "Maybe a trifle."

Buffy gave a dramatic sigh and handed the present back to him. "Fine, fine. Here. Happy belated... um... birthday or something."

He raised an eyebrow at her, taking the box and pulling at the ribbon. "Birthday's not for five months, Slayer," he said. "Either you're very late, or just a bit early."

Buffy sat down beside him on the bed and watched eagerly as Spike peeled the wrapping paper off and tossed it onto the floor. "Not your real birthday, silly," she explained. "Your, you know... 'not-dead-anymore' birthday."

"Ah, I see," he said. Spike pushed aside the tissue paper lining the inside of the box and blinked in surprise. "Where the hell did you find this?" he asked.

"Yes."

He turned to her. "Come again?"

"'Where the hell' is exactly right," Buffy said. "The Hellmouth. Um..." She lowered her eyes. "After everything happened, Robin and Faith went down to make sure we'd gotten everybody out that we could, and they brought it back with them. I found it just before you came back."

Spike withdrew the duster reverently and gazed at it before laying it down against the pillows of the bed and enveloping Buffy in a tight embrace. "Thank you," he said, his voice nearly breaking.

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "I have some news." Buffy took a deep breath and let the words tumble out in a rush. "Giles wants me to help him reassemble the Watcher's Council. In London. I want to go."

Spike released her and fixed his attention on the empty box, fiddling with the tissue paper. "Interesting," he replied quietly. "When would you be off, then?"

"Two days."

"Two... two days?!" he asked. His hands clenched into fists, and he stood up. "Two -- bloody hell, Buffy, when were you going to tell me?!"

"I only just found out now!" she countered. "We have to get started immediately if we're gonna do this right."

"I s'pose none of what went on as of late means a thing to you, then, that it?"

Wait, wait, he thinks... Oh, my gosh! Buffy began to giggle, her laughter swiftly turning hysterical. She doubled over and clutched her stomach, howling with amusement.

Spike folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. "What the devil is so bloody hilarious?"

Buffy was still laughing when she sprang from the bed and vaulted herself at Spike, knocking him to the floor. She rained kisses down on his face, finally settling on his mouth, which she tended to passionately until she felt him relax beneath her, arms winding around her waist and pulling her closer.

"Do you think I'd have agreed to go if you weren't coming with me?" she finally asked.

"You mean old Rupes gives us his blessing?"

"Not yet," Buffy admitted. "But I was all 'no Spike, no Buffy,' so he doesn't really have a choice, does he?" She leaned down and kissed him again.

"Well, then..." Spike murmured, sweeping her hair away from her face. "It's time I went home again after all. Might be fun. Get to show the niblet the sights and such. I'm in."

"Thank you," Buffy sighed. She snuggled herself against his chest.

"Y'know, I got a bit of a surprise for you as well, pet," Spike said, dropping a peck on her forehead. "Check the top drawer of your bureau."

Buffy drew back and looked at him quizzically, but Spike merely tilted his head toward the other side of the room. "Have a peek."

She walked to the bureau with slight trepidation. "There better not be a bunch of those springy snake things waiting to jump out at me," Buffy said. "If you give me a heart attack, you're in big trouble, honey."

Spike gave a hiccupy chuckle. "Honey?" he asked.

"Sweetie?"

"Er, let's work on that, shall we?"

Buffy giggled and opened the drawer, gasping when she saw the contents.

"What did you do, buy out the entire condom section of Walgreens?!" she squeaked.

Spike came up behind her and licked her earlobe, causing Buffy to jump slightly. "Well, yeah," he whispered.

***

The hotel was dark when Fred unlocked the door. Wes carried their bags inside, leaving them at the bottom of the staircase. He strode to a couch and stretched out on it. "I'm thoroughly knackered," he said. "God, what a bloody wretched time this has been."

Fred began to follow him, longing to wrap herself up in his arms, when a rapping noise made her stop, her eyes darting fearfully about the lobby. "Wesley?" she asked. "What was that?"

Wes sat up. "I think it's the front door there," he said. When Fred began to turn to answer it, he got up and steered her away. "No, let me," he said, opening it a crack and peering outside. "My God! Come in!" Fred heard Wesley shout excitedly. "We heard you --"

Wes's voice was silenced as the door swung open the rest of the way violently, sending him careening across the room, his back striking the wall hard. Fred cried out to him, moving toward his side when fingers gripped her neck and pulled her a foot off the floor.

She stared into familiar eyes, and she screamed.

"Gotta love consequences," Angelus said.

Fin