Buffy lost track of time, sitting on the bottom step. It felt like she’d been crying for hours, although she knew that sensibly it could only have been a few minutes. She’d also forgotten that she wasn’t alone downstairs. As a result, when a very concerned Giles gently placed his hand on her shoulder, she practically jumped out of her skin. The shock was enough to stop her sobbing; she looked up at his sympathetic and worried face, first in fright, and then silently begging him not to ask what was wrong.

“Buffy… are you all right?”

Damn. Well, she had to talk to someone, and Giles was the only one around who might possibly understand. She sniffed and wiped her eyes clumsily. Had she been of sound mind, she would have complained at the rhetorical (and stupid) question with some kind of pedantic remark. However, all she could do was numbly shake her head. “Not really…” She stood up slowly. “I… I need to talk to you…”

Giles nodded and indicated for her to sit down, walking behind her as she moved into the lounge. He removed the blanket from the sofa so she could sit, then wrapped it around her shoulders. Buffy pulled it tighter around herself gratefully. Giles pulled up a footstool opposite her and positioned himself on it in what he hoped was an approachable stance, and put on his “go-ahead-I’m-listening” face, handing her a handkerchief from about his person in case she needed it.

To Buffy, this scene was familiar, except it had been Tara she’d poured her heart out to. Fighting off the wave of sadness that overtook her, she took a deep breath.

“It’s all right,” he said reassuringly. “Just take your time.”

She nodded and attempted to think how to even start. Taking another deep breath, she began. “I have to talk to someone, Giles. And you deserve to know what happened between… me and Spike.”

He settled himself more comfortably on the footstool, and prepared for a long ride. “Go ahead.”

Buffy launched into a slow, deliberate, and painstakingly detailed (though not detailed enough that it made them both uncomfortable) account of everything that had happened between them, starting from the time she’d kissed him after he’d stood up to Glory. She explained about how they’d ended up falling (literally) into their ‘relationship’, although she was loath to call it that, and how, despite her better judgement, she’d just kept going back. She told everything as though detached from it, with an almost glazed-over look in her eyes, because it was far too harrowing to throw herself back into the situations.

Throughout, Giles made the appropriate noises to urge her to carry on, even though he didn’t like what he was hearing. She needed to get this off her chest. Bottling it all up had been hard on her, and he could sense she was glad to be finally unburdening herself on someone, even though he imagined she’d rather it wasn’t him.

After approximately an hour and a half, she got to the part when Riley had reappeared in Sunnydale, and stopped. The house was suddenly eerily silent after her narrative. Buffy stared off into the distance, not really seeing anything, as though she was sorting something out in her head.

Giles waited a few seconds, then decided he’d better bring her out of it. “Buffy…”

“Huh?” She brought herself back to his plane of reality.

“You were saying…”

“Yeah. Sorry…” She blinked slowly as the final piece of her mental puzzle clicked into place. “God, it all makes sense now!” Giles gave her time to make sense of whatever she’d just worked out, and when she started again, she spoke faster, and much more bitterly compared to her previously subdued storytelling. “Riley. When he came back. He was married. Married, Giles. He just dropped himself into my life and dragged me along with him on some crazy mission, and did he bother to tell me? No. I found out when Mrs. Riley Finn appeared…” The bitterness, it seemed, was harboured mainly towards Riley and not his wife, because she continued a little more softly. “Her name was Sam. I wanted to hate her, I really did… but I couldn’t. She was too nice for that; she didn’t deserve it.”

She went on to explain, in brief, about ‘the Doctor’, her brief liaison with Spike, and how Riley had found them together. “I found out the hard way that Spike was doing whatever the Hell he was doing with those demon eggs. I threw a grenade into the crypt without a second thought. I blew up his home, for God’s sake… After Riley and Sam had gone, I went back there to inspect the damage. There was practically nothing left. What made it even worse was the fact that he’d forgiven me for it again. I told him it was over; I laid on a guilt trip about how I was using him and it was killing me. God, the look on his face…” She trailed off; this wasn’t what she was trying to say. “But… I was just thinking about it, all of it. Riley, Sam, Spike… and I realised how it all works.”

Giles gave her a look that implied he wished she’d hurry up and tell him, because he didn’t have a clue. She continued, attempting to put into words what she’d just a moment ago figured out. “Riley married Sam; she’s the nicest girl you could ever hope to meet. She’s also brave, and strong, and all the things Riley couldn’t handle when he was with me. But there’s the difference, see… Riley couldn’t handle my strength, not just because it’s greater than his, but because, unlike Sam, I let it take over my life. I’m not nice any more. Sweet, innocent, little Buffy grew up into… Bitchy the Vampire Layer…” Giles cringed, and so did Buffy. It was uncalled for and she knew it, but getting it into the open had helped. She spoke again, quieter.

“I went back to Spike that day and used him just like I always had, but what really clinched it, the one thing that made me realise I couldn’t keep doing it, was that I asked him to say he loved me…” She sighed. “All that time he’d been telling me willingly and I didn’t want to hear it, I couldn’t hear it. Not from Spike.” This was veering away from the point she was struggling to find again, so she stopped and back-tracked. “Riley and Sam seemed so happy. And despite their lives as commandoes, they seemed so normal, too. I’ve never, ever had normal, Giles, at least not long term. There was Angel - definitely not normal. Then Riley - normal… right up until everything with Adam and the Initiative. And then Spike… boy, was that ever not normal. It is so much to ask that I have a simple relationship once in a while? Whatever I had with Spike was complicated… and that day just made the whole thing worse.” She sighed. “Giles…?”

He cleared his throat after so long not speaking. “Yes?”

“You wanted to know if I love Spike?”

He didn’t like where this was leading, but said nothing about it. “I did.”

She seemed about to answer, but then apparently changed her mind, deciding to lead up to it. Giles was certain she was only doing it to infuriate him. “You know… all this time - must be over a year, now - he’s told me he loves me, and… nothing. Disgust at first. Panic for a while. Then… nothing. It was just a Spike thing, something I’d accepted as one of his quirks. But that night… after I asked… the way he said it, so full of hope… I felt something. Guilt, maybe, that I’d led him on again thinking he’d gotten through to me. Or thinking I loved him. Now, I know what it was… After seeing Riley and Sam, their normality and happiness, I wanted to love him, to give him that much.” Her eyes began to tear up. “But I couldn’t, Giles. I wanted to and I couldn’t; something in me wouldn’t let me. I looked at Spike and saw a future exactly the same as the present - him loving me… me, trying so hard to love him back and being completely unable to. That’s when I knew I had to end it. Whatever I felt for him, I refused to keep using him.”

Giles still hadn’t received a particularly straight answer to his question, but having heard everything that had happened, he wasn’t surprised. Buffy was only just making sense of everything, right in front of him. He let the matter drop and moved on. “So… after you ended it,” he said, “is that why he left?”

“You think anything’s that simple where Spike’s concerned?”

“I… I suppose not. What happened?”

“Pretty soon after that was Xander and Anya’s wedding. You know about what happened with that. On my side of my life, things actually started getting slightly better. Then Spike turned up, dragging along some girl he’d picked up in a pathetic attempt to make me jealous. The really annoying thing is, it worked. We talked, he left, and that was the end of it. Or so I thought…” She paused to let this sink in. Or possibly for effect, Giles wasn’t sure. “After the wedding, after Anya reappeared all newly-vengeanced and royally pissed at Xander, it all started going wrong again. We found a camera in the front yard - Xander naturally assumed it was Spike’s doing, so I confronted him about it. This time, it was him who’d had enough; he threw me out of his crypt. If it had ended there it would have been fine, all loose ends aside. Except it didn’t end there. Turns out the Nerd Herd had cameras all over town so they could watch me… including one in the Magic Box. Willow was trying to trace the source of them and accidentally tapped into the Magic Box camera…”

Buffy stopped again as the memory came back, the image of Spike and Anya stinging almost as much now as it did at the time. Giles waited while she composed herself enough to continue. “We saw - me, Willow, Dawn and Xander - we saw Anya… we…” She couldn’t say it. Giles and Anya were close; it would hurt him to know what she’d done and Buffy didn’t really want to be the one to break the news. Technically, that was Anya’s job, and it really wasn’t even Buffy’s place to inform him.

Giles was concerned again. Whatever they’d seen, Buffy was obviously upset by it, and it must have been serious. She lived on the Hellmouth and was witness to demons and God only knew what else on a daily basis. For something she’d seen to have this much of an effect on her… well, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “What is it, Buffy?” he asked, softly. “What was it you saw?”

She sniffed and avoided his eyes. “Anya and Spike…” Silence. “They were…” Buffy shuddered. “On the table…”

Buffy looked up. Giles seemed about to explode, and was doing a very good job of containing himself because of the late (or, technically, early) hour. He managed to calm himself down. “What…?”

“She did it to get back at Xander, I guess; he did it to hurt me. I don’t think either of them intended to. But to cut a long and horrible story short, that’s how Xander found out about me and Spike, and that’s why the air’s a little chilly between us. Willow found out through Tara later. And before you ask, that isn’t why Spike left, either.”

“You’re not telling me this gets any worse, surely?”

“Afraid so…” This was it. This was the moment she’d have to come clean to Giles about why he’d really left. She prayed he’d let her finish, and hoped he’d at least try and understand why she could forgive him. It wasn’t going to be easy. Keeping her voice steady, she re-accounted it. “Spike got it into his head that we had to talk, and I suppose he was right. But by that stage, I’d had enough of his cheating, in every sense of the word, and I didn’t want to know. I was in the bathroom getting ready for a bath when he showed up. He started explaining himself, saying he’d gone to the Magic Box to get a spell to use on himself because he was sick of being in love with me. I can’t say I blame him. He told me that I should have just let Xander stake him. When I told him I couldn’t, of course he asked me why - he knew why, the bastard, but he wanted me to say it. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to convince Spike of anything?

“I have a fairly good idea, yes…”

“Well, it’s difficult. What else could I do, Giles? Lie to him again? I admitted that I had feelings for him, and that was the truth… I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s not exactly something I could control. He was adamant that I loved him… of course, I told him I didn’t, that I could never trust him enough for it to be love. But when Spike gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t let up… and when he wants something, he’s used to getting it…”

Nausea threatened, but she fought it. It was more a result of lack of sleep and emotional stress than because of what she was describing. She didn’t need to continue for Giles to immediately guess what had happened, simply by looking in her eyes. He placed both hands on her shoulders firmly and examined her face. “Good God, Buffy… I didn’t think he’d be capable of…” He looked sickened. “Did he-?”

“No… no, I was fine. The bath did more damage than he did. I managed to stop him. That cracked tile in the bathroom is where he hit the wall. Must’ve really hurt him.”

“After what he did, Buffy, I wouldn’t worry about harming him.”

“He fled almost right after; he stayed long enough for me to rip his heart out for about the hundredth time this year, though. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face when he realised what he’d nearly done; I’d swear it was remorse. Whatever the real reason is for him leaving, it was because of that. Now, he could be anywhere… he could be a little pile of dust for all I know… and I’m… I’m worried about him, Giles…”

Her Watcher’s face was filled with horror by the admittance as he moved his hands to his lap and began fidgeting. “You’ve obviously worked through this… um… incident, but… it sounds almost as if you…”

“Forgive him.” It wasn’t merely a completion of his train of thought; it was a statement. Giles was, as expected, utterly horrified by this.

“How can you?!” he demanded. “What he did was despicable.”

“I know-“

“What happens if he comes back, Buffy?” Giles continued, not letting her explain. “What if he decides to finish what he started?”

“He won’t-“

“He’s already achieved a conquest over Anya… perhaps he’ll consider trying with Willow next. Or Dawn. Would you forgive him then?”

Before either of them knew what was happening, Buffy had slapped him. They both recoiled in shock, Giles moving a hand to his quickly reddening cheek, and Buffy covering her mouth. She recovered enough to admonish him for his words. “You know… you know… that if he laid a finger on Dawn I would stake him without a second thought. He would never do that. What he did to me, he did in a moment of blind hope because he thought… It doesn’t matter any more. He loves Dawn like a daughter. And did you forget the chip? Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t.” In the back of her mind, it registered that she was actually defending him. “He’d die before harming her. As for Willow, if he did anything to her, he knows I’d kill him for that, too.”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking. You’re right about that. But I-I still can’t understand why you can forgive him so easily.”

“Because so far this year I’ve used him, insulted him, beaten him to within an inch of his unlife, blown up his home, and set his poker winnings free.” Off Giles’ look, she added. “Long story; doesn’t matter. What does matter is that every single time he forgave me instantly. If he can forgive me all that - things I did deliberately most of the time - then I can forgive him. Technically, he didn’t do anything to me. He tried to, yes… but none of us were of sound mind, then.” Her eyes pleading with him, she reached for one of his hands. “Please try and understand… It’s my choice, whether it’s right or not…”

Giles nodded. “I don’t like it… but you’re right; it is your choice.”

There followed a somewhat empty pause. “Bet you’re glad you left, huh?”

“Actually, no. I might have been able to prevent all of this.”

“I doubt it…” She got up from the couch, wobbling slightly from having sat down so long, and handed Giles back his blanket. The sky had lightened considerably and she guessed it was around four in the morning by this point. “I’d better get some sleep. I have to be at the Double Meat in about four hours.”

She was halfway to the stairs, when Giles, now sitting on the couch again, remembered something. “Um, Buffy…”

She turned. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad we had this conversation… you obviously needed it. But I still haven’t established why you were crying.”

He was right. Buffy thought back to a few hours previously and tried to remember. It was the flashback that had triggered it, but it wasn’t the reason for her tears. Remembering, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked back at Giles, knowing he wasn’t going to like it. “I miss him…” One tear rolled down her cheek. “I know it’s wrong, and crazy, and all kinds of bad… but I miss Spike.”

Instead of reprimanding her for it, Giles held one arm out to indicate that it was safe to approach for a hug. Buffy returned to the sofa and buried her head willingly into his shoulder. She sniffled. “I just want him back here, Giles, for Dawn if nothing else. Everything feels all wrong without him around.”

“It’s understandable. He has been here for a while now.”

She nodded. “I just… I wish I knew where he was. He didn’t even say goodbye, he simply upped and ran and it’s my fault…” She was getting tired, her speech starting to slur. Giles shushed her quietly, rocking slightly, and waited for her to fall into a much needed sleep.

He’d heard a lot of information, and had a lot of things to sort out. Buffy was now the least of his problems - she seemed to have finally sorted herself out to some degree, although Spike’s absence was beginning to take its toll - but he needed to find Anya and talk to her. She’d been severely neglected of late by everyone, including himself. Not only that, he had to keep a close eye on Willow, just in case she relapsed, and on Xander. Looking after her was no easy task, and any weakness in spirit would result in them both breaking.

Wondering briefly when his life had become so complicated, Giles leaned back on the sofa, being careful not to wake the sleeping Slayer currently using him as a pillow. He laid the blanket over her and closed his eyes, finally managing to get some sleep of his own…

Xander wandered sleepily down Buffy’s staircase several hours later, having left Willow sound asleep in her room. He rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes and made his way towards the kitchen, yawning. He emerged a few minutes later carrying two mugs of coffee, one for himself, and one for Willow if she ever woke up, just as Dawn came down to find some breakfast. They both stopped in their tracks when they looked over to see the couch, where Buffy was curled up next to Giles, both dead to the world.

Xander exchanged a glance with the brunette, then looked back. “Did we… miss something?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, “but if it is what I’m hoping it’s not, I’m going to need therapy for life…” Dawn was, of course, kidding; Xander, however, seemed to have gotten the wrong end of the stick.

At this point, Buffy woke up, rearing her head from Giles’ shoulder, which in turn woke him up as well. She glanced across at her sister and her friend and, apparently oblivious to their “aren’t-you-going-to-explain?” looks, simply said, “Morning.”

Giles, who spent a large proportion of his life feeling embarrassed anyway, smiled sheepishly. “I… I think I’ll… let Buffy explain. Excuse me.” With that, he got up and headed past them upstairs.

“Well?” prodded Xander.

Buffy yawned and looked around. “What time is it?” Her question was answered by the chiming of the lounge clock, which indicated it was ten o’clock. “Dammit! I’m late for work! Why didn’t someone wake me up?”

“Well, Buff, we would have,” said Xander, “if we’d known you were down here snuggling with Giles.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “I wasn’t snuggling. I came down here last night… this morning… I was upset and I forgot he was on the couch. We ended up having a long, healthy talk, and I fell asleep, that’s all. If you’d get your mind out of the gutter for a few seconds and think about it, it really isn’t that hard to figure it out.” The uncomfortable air between them still hadn’t shifted, and since they’d both only just woken up, tensions were rife. Dawn had, by this point, sensibly gone into the kitchen and left them to it.

“Sorry, Buffy, but what did you expect me to think?”

“Oh my God, Xander! Is your opinion of me really that low? It’s Giles.”

The argument was cut short by the appearance of Willow at the top of the stairs. “Wh-what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing, Will,” they said, simultaneously, and glared at each other. Buffy pushed past him and headed towards her room, giving Willow a pleasant smile that implied she had no qualms with her. She met Giles halfway as he re-emerged from the bathroom.

“Buffy? I thought you had to go to work.”

“I’m gonna call in sick. I need to think over some things.”

“Yes. Of course.” He stroked her hair cautiously. “If you need to talk…”

“I will do so at a sensible hour.” They both smiled. “Thanks for listening. And thanks for not being too mad at me.”

“It’s not you I’m angry with,” he said, Spike’s imminent demise implied in his words. Buffy was too exhausted to question him on that, so she simply nodded and vanished into her room. Giles ignored Xander as he headed to the kitchen, having heard the entire argument from the bathroom, and Willow watched the entire situation with interest. Her over-heightened senses detected a lot of emotions colliding in the Summers’ house, most of them coming from Buffy and Xander. Buffy, she could sense, was confused and hurting; Xander was angry, and frustrated because some things were still beyond his comprehension; Giles was concerned, and she could detect a sudden, frightening hatred of someone, but it wasn’t clear who; Dawn was hurting, too, and deeply worried about Spike - she wasn’t making any effort to conceal this fact, either.

What Willow couldn’t detect, however, was precisely how she felt. After Tara’s death came pain, which was quickly replaced by rage… after the rage came remorse, and horror what she’d nearly done to her friends - in fact, to the world in general. Then came the pain again, fresh with the memory of Tara’s limp and bleeding body in her arms, and then… nothing. Just complete numbness. Wilow wasn’t sure whether this should be a good thing or not. It was good that she wasn’t feeling the pain any more - even though, despite this, she still ended up wracked with sobs on a regular basis - but it wasn’t so good that she never seemed to feel particularly happy. The closest she’d come to being happy again had been during the meal the previous night. And, typically, that all seemed to be a distant memory as she caught the end of the argument between her two best friends.

Xander cleared his throat and broke through her troubled thoughts, as he indicated the two mugs of coffee he was still holding. “You coming down for breakfast, or shall I bring it to you?”

Without a word, she came downstairs, took one of the mugs from him, and followed him into the kitchen. Giles was making himself a full English breakfast, as best he could with the available supplies, and Dawn was finishing her cereal. She’d also heard the argument, and glared contemptuously at Xander from across the island.

“You can be such an idiot sometimes…”

Losing his temper with Dawn in front of Willow wasn’t an option, and, he thought, he wasn’t really in the mood to be getting into a slanging match with a teenager. He aimed for a humorous retort instead. “You’re not too old to put across my knees, young Dawny.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, so it was going to be one of those arguments, was it? Well, fine, Xander could be immature, too. “You shut up…”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” cut in Giles. “Stop it, the pair of you.” They both looked sheepish. “Now, I appreciate that everyone has things to work through right now, but I will not tolerate you all acting like children. If you’re going to argue, please do so where I can’t hear it.” Turning to Willow and adopting a softer tone, he said, “Willow, how would you like to go for a drive today?”

“With you?”

“Yes. I thought perhaps we might have a little chat.” Getting her away from all the negative energy currently bouncing around the house would be a bonus, too.

She looked to Xander for confirmation; he nodded, relieved that someone else was taking over for a while. He needed a break. “That’d be n-nice…”

Silence descended on the kitchen. Everyone ate their breakfast in their own little self-enclosed bubble, where they wouldn’t have to cooperate with anyone else.

Coping with the soul, while not exactly a day at the fair, had certainly become easier as time had gone on. The involuntary twitching had stopped, for one thing, and the urge to scream had diminished. Now, Spike even had time to think about other things than his previous kills. These other things included the one thing he’d come all the way to Africa to get away from - the Slayer.

The shaman had promised to send him back to Sunnydale. When he’d asked, he hadn’t really thought about it; it just seemed like the right thing to do. He hadn’t thought as far as how everyone might react to his having a soul. He also hadn’t remembered that Xander was probably set to kill him, Dawn would never speak to him again for leaving without saying goodbye, Clem had probably left all sorts of things he didn’t even want to contemplate lying around his crypt, and Buffy, of course, hated him. So what else is new? he thought.

If that was so, then, why did he want to go back? The easy option would have been to run away and stay away and make everyone’s lives easier. Just take himself and his soul out of their lives. And this would have been a fantastic, wonderful plan… if not for the fact that if he didn’t see Buffy again, he’d go out of his mind. He could live with her hating him; he just needed to see her, to keep an eye on her. He also desperately needed to apologise, for what it was worth.

And if he was going to be honest with himself, there was also the smallest, tiniest hope that she might not hate him after all. Perhaps they could work it all out. One thing was for certain - he’d coped two weeks with a new soul and all the perks that came with it, and it hadn’t been pretty. He wasn’t going to kid himself over this - if he was going to last more than a month without staking himself, he needed someone to help him through it. All of the people he knew and cared about (although that was an overstatement where some of them were involved) lived in Sunnydale, and one of them was bound to help him. Dawn, maybe, or Willow. He needed something as a constant to grab onto, just one thing that stayed the same, an anchor in his sea of impending brooding; that anchor, he knew, could only truly be Buffy, even if only from afar.

Just hold out two more days… he told himself. Just two more days, and Old Lurky in there’ll send you back… At this stage, though, the contemplation of even one more day of the Hell he was going through seemed too much. Forty-eight hours seemed a century in his current state. But then again, he’d technically waited a century for Buffy already, even though he hadn’t known it at the time… one more would be piece of the proverbial cake…

At which point, as if to prove himself wrong, his soul dredged up a memory of one of his particularly gruesome kills, one that Dru had made him torture. The first century, it was him who’d done the torturing. This time, he was on the receiving end…

Giles pulled up outside the familiar building with a sudden dread, hesitating slightly before he cut the car’s engine. He was beginning to feel as though he’d done nothing since his return but talk to people - first Buffy, in varying degrees of detail and emotion, then Willow, who had only been slightly forthcoming about how she was doing, and now… here he was again, about to engage in yet another long and arduous conversation. This one promised to be the most difficult yet.

He stepped out of the car and contemplated the task ahead. It needed to be done, this much he knew; but he just wished someone else could be the Grown-Up for once. While it was true that he felt some small - no, make that immense - pride that they all looked up to him like the father of their strange family, he more than often wished that he’d never let himself become so emotionally involved.

A Watcher’s devotion to his Slayer transcended any other kind of bond. It was beyond friendship or love; rather it was a necessity built on blind trust and the ever-important sacred duty. But the Council had been right all along - what Giles had with Buffy was a father’s love for a daughter, and it had spread out to encompass her sister, all of her friends, and even, all that time ago, her mother. They were all in it together, and always had been. He’d deserted them, and now he had to pick up the pieces.

Taking a deep breath, he raised a hand, and knocked on the door…

Anya was curled up in an armchair, nursing a large, half-empty tub of ice-cream while she watched television. The talk-show was utterly failing to interest her, and her Double-Choc Delight was slowly starting to melt. It vaguely occurred to her that she hadn’t left the apartment for several days, but at least it still had all four of its walls and a ceiling.

It was probably silly to still be brooding over the Magic Box. But she’d cried all her tears for Xander, and she’d managed to hurt him, albeit not in the way she’d anticipated. Her magic shop was all she had left, and even that was gone. In all honesty, she had a perfectly legitimate reason to still be brooding.

Her attention was drawn back to the television again. The sardonic and sarcastic host was introducing the next ‘guests’ - even Anya could tell that the whole thing was a set up - as they entered the garish set. “So,” announced the host, gleefully, addressing a woman, “you say your fiancé dumped you at the altar…?”

Anya’s viewing was interrupted by the sound of the front door being knocked. She placed the now-liquid ice-cream on a nearby coffee table, hastily wiped her eyes, and got up. She opened the door with a pre-prepared speech that she’d composed for any caller that was stupid enough to disturb her.

“I’m only opening this door out of common courtesy. I do not want to buy anything, or sample anything, or discuss insurance, and-“

“Anya…”

She stopped in her tirade and actually looked at the person on the other side of the threshold. Her eyes widened excitedly. “Giles?!” Flinging both arms around his neck, she hung on tight, and realised she hadn’t seen him for at least two weeks. “Come in!” She practically dragged him into the apartment, and shut the door firmly behind them both, then began a hasty and rushed attempt at clearing up the mess she’d been living in - clothes strewn about, some day-old take-out containers, and a pile of Xander’s things that she’d not yet had the courage to destroy. “You’ll have to excuse the mess,” she said, indicating a cleared patch of the sofa. “I’ve been too busy being miserable to be tidy.”

Anyone who didn’t know Anya would have interpreted her matter-of-fact frankness as bitterness, but Giles could easily detect the underlying pain to her words. “I… um… I don’t mind, Anya.”

She stopped tidying and switched off the television, hovering expectantly for several seconds, then apparently remembered her manners. “Would you like some ice-cream?”

Giles peered into the proffered carton and winced at the slop inside it, then put on a polite expression. “Uh… n-no, thank you.” He gestured for her to sit down; she did so, and stared at him curiously, waiting for him to initiate the conversation. When he didn’t, she said:

“It’s very nice to see you.”

“Yes. Ditto.”

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted, quietly.

“Giles smiled. “I missed you, too.” Then, suddenly embarrassed, especially when he saw the radiant smile he got in return for his comment, he back-tracked. “You, and everyone. All of you.”

“Oh.” She seemed mildly disappointed. “Everyone…”

He got the distinct impression she’d been by herself for a while. “Anya, when was the last time you saw anyone?”

She thought; this in itself indicated it must have been a fair time. “I saw everyone after Willow nearly ended the world.” Again with the frankness. Maybe she was bitter, after all.

“And not since?”

“No.” She wasn’t going to mention how she’d spotted them in the restaurant. It almost didn’t matter any more.

Giles sighed. It was now or never. “It’s not healthy for you to stay cooped up in here, Anya. I know you’re still hurting from the wedding. I’m so very sorry I couldn’t be there for you - all of you… From what I’ve heard, you could all have used my help.”

“I doubt it,” she said, sighing, unknowingly echoing what Buffy had said a few days ago. “I mean, could you have prevented Warren from shooting Buffy and Tara? Or stopped Dawn from stealing things from the Magic Box? Or stopped Xander Harris-“ (her contempt was obvious as she said his name) “-from leaving me at my wedding?”

“No. I probably couldn’t have. But I could have been there afterwards.”

“You came when you were needed,” she told him. “Burst in like my knight in shining armour.” There was an uncomfortable pause, then she changed the subject. “How is everyone?”

“As well as is to be expected.” Another pause. “Buffy has told me everything that’s happened.”

Anya shifted a little nervously where she sat. “So… so you know about her and Spike?”

Giles examined the suddenly very interesting carpet. “Y-yes. Needless to say, I don’t approve.”

“Have you seen them together?”

He hesitated, about to tell her he hadn’t, when he realised that she didn’t know. “You haven’t heard.” Her expression indicated he was right. “Spike. He’s… ‘missing in action’, I suppose. No-one’s seen him since a few days after…” He trailed off. His original plan had been to wait for her to tell him about her liaison with the vampire, but it seemed it would come sooner than he’d expected.

“After what…?”

He hesitated. “I know what happened between you and him, Anya.”

Her face fell, as her expression mimicked exactly that of a child who’d disappointed her father and knew she was going to be punished. “I…”

He stopped her. “Don’t apologise. Believe it or not, I think I understand why you did it.”

“I’m glad you do,” she said, evidently trying not to break down as memories of wanting vengeance against Xander, and of what he’d done, came flooding back to her. “Because I certainly don’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said reassuringly, although he didn’t believe it himself.

Anya was attempting to work out how he could possibly have found out. “Did you see the footage? Did someone actually tape it?”

“No… no,” he said, calming her down. “Buffy told me…”

This, apparently, was much worse. “Oh, so Buffy told you. Queen Buffy. The most popular girl in the world.” There was no hiding the fact that she was bitter over this.

“Anya-“

“No, I understand, Giles. Everybody loves Buffy. Spike loves Buffy, you love Buffy, even Xander loves Buffy. And, just to counterbalance all the love, everybody hates Anya.”

“Nobody hates you. I know it might seem like it sometimes, but believe me, none of us hate you. It’s just… you have to understand - they’ve all been through a lot, just like you have. Excluding yourself from the group isn’t going to help. If you’ve felt left out, it’s not been done on purpose, but if you alienate yourself completely, it’ll only make matters worse.”

“I might as well not be around.” Her original plan went out of the window. Seeing them all eating together had cut deeper than any knife wound. “You all looked perfectly happy without me the other day, eating in that restaurant.”

Realising that she must have passed them and noticed, Giles’ face looked the very picture of guilt. “Oh, Anya…” He placed a hand over hers. “I’m sorry… It was only supposed to be Buffy and Dawn with me to begin with, because they’d run out of food, but Willow and Xander ended up coming along as well. I promise you, we didn’t intentionally exclude you.” She still looked hurt, but seemed to accept his excuse. “Would my taking you to dinner make up for it?”

She smiled. “I suppose so.”

Giles smiled back. This was progress. “Anya, why don’t you come back to the house with me. We all appreciate you much more than you realise. I think you might be a calming element - Buffy and Xander keep fighting, and while you still have your own battles with him, I think you need to at least try and work through them. And Willow wants to apologise to you.”

“She does?”

“She does.” He gave her a serious look. “Please, Anya. I only ask because I want what’s best for you.”

Heaving a sigh that was part-relieved and part-nervous, she nodded. “All right. But only because you asked me to.”

Within ten minutes, the two of them had finished tidying up, so that she’d at least come back to a clean apartment, and were heading back towards Buffy’s house. Anya stared out of the window in silence for the entire short journey, thinking over all that Giles had said. Perhaps she’d misjudged them after all. Maybe it was partially her own fault for being so antisocial. The restaurant incident did sound like an honest mistake on everyone’s part.

Moreover, she really did have to try and make up with Xander. He’d received his dose of vengeance, and it had hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. Anya also wanted to apologise to Buffy - she’d not known about the Slayer’s relationship with Spike, of course, but now, she felt terrible. She’d never intended to hurt Buffy… just like she knew Willow had never intended to hurt her, either.

Now she’d thought it all over rationally, everything made a whole lot more sense… she was ready to see everyone again, in fact, she was eager to do so. Anya honestly hadn’t realised how much she’d missed all of her friends during her bout of voluntary solitude. She felt, suddenly, as though everything would be all right again. It would take time, of course, but it would all be fine…

When Giles and Anya arrived at the house, Xander and Willow had prepared something resembling a meal with their combined talents. The air had cleared somewhat after Xander’s misunderstanding with Buffy, and Dawn was speaking to him again; they were just waiting for Buffy to join them while Willow watched a saucepan of pasta finish boiling. Xander occasionally stirred the sauce while he made sure the table looked presentable.

Dawn was already sitting at the table, waiting hungrily for Buffy to return home from work. All eyes turned towards the sound of the front door closing as someone arrived. It wasn’t Buffy who walked through into the kitchen, though; it was Giles, with a very nervous-looking Anya in tow. Xander’s expression on seeing her wavered between shock and joy, and he found what he hoped was a happy medium, something resembling nonchalance. Willow smiled just as nervously at Anya, unsure exactly what to say, and Dawn, being Dawn, merely grinned.

“Hey, Anya! Where’ve you been?” she asked enthusiastically. “Nobody’s seen you for, like, ever.”

Giles ushered the vengeance demon forwards and she looked around the room, as if seeing everyone for the first time. “Hello, everyone…”

The other two occupants of the kitchen nodded their greeting, Xander attempting a friendly smile that didn’t seem too forward. “Dawny’s right,” said Willow in her usual quiet tone, “we haven’t seen you for ages. Is everything… a-all right?”

“Everything’s…” she began, then caught Giles’ warning expression that suggested now was not the time to be abrupt. “Well… the magic shop’s seen better days, but I’m fine. At least we’re all still alive, right?”

“Yes. Yes, we are,” said Xander. “We have problems, but we’re alive.”

Dawn attempted to lighten the atmosphere, as it was beginning to feel like some huge weight was bearing down on the entire kitchen. “Uh… hey, Anya, you joining us for dinner? There’s plenty of it, and Buffy’ll be home soon.”

“Oh… oh, I don’t know if I should, Dawn. But thank you for the offer.”

“Please?” she whined, perfecting her sister’s pout and setting it to ‘kill’. “It’ll be just like before. Us all together, one big, happy family again. And Giles is staying, too… right?”

The ex-Watcher looked up from the coaster he was perusing. “What? Oh. Yes, of course I’m staying.”

This in itself was enough to convince Anya to stay, and she nodded. Dawn beamed, got up, and forcibly dragged Anya into a seat next to her own. At which point, the back door opened and one very annoyed and very overworked Slayer appeared.

“Ugh!” she announced, hurling her idiotic DMP cap onto one of the counters. “If I have to clean out even one more fry basket it’ll be too many.”

“And a very good evening to you, too, Miss Summers,” said Xander, assuming the pose of a waiter with a tea-towel draped over one arm. “If you would care to take your seat, dinner will be served shortly.”

Buffy smiled. Then she noticed their other guest. “Anya?”

“Yes. Hello, Buffy. It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, um… same here. Wow, where the heck have you been?”

Giles interrupted, sitting himself down opposite Dawn. “It doesn’t matter. She’s here now.”

Buffy’s brain was trying to make her remember the incident with Anya and Spike in graphic detail, but she knew that now wasn’t the time. Aside from the fact that it wouldn’t be the correct way to enfold Anya back into the group, it was ancient history now, and she’d forgiven her for it even if Xander hadn’t. Besides, it only really promised to get ugly if Spike was around, which he wasn’t. “You’d better stick around, An,” she ordered. “It’s really dull without you. I’d hug you, but I’m not the most fragrant Buffy at the moment.”

She sat down next to her sister, who sniffed, and grimaced. “Wow, Buffy, you weren’t lying…”

Buffy swatted the teenager on the arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get changed before we eat. Apparently Dawn has a very sensitive nose.” She received a petulant expression in return, as her incredibly mature little sister stuck her tongue out.

Willow took the pan off the hob and started to drain the pasta. “Hurry up! Don’t want your pasta getting all nasty.”

The Slayer ran upstairs and re-emerged five minutes later, just as Xander was pouring the sauce for everyone. She retook her position next to Dawn, Xander perched at one end of the island, and the whole group, all crammed together in the kitchen, enjoyed their meal together.

The time was drawing closer. In a few more hours, Spike would be back in Sunnydale… back to Buffy. This prospect was the only thing keeping him sane as yet more memories bombarded his mind, memories of a period of time when he and Dru had savaged an entire village, and sired hundreds of minions while they were at it. He’d almost forgotten about it until just now. Probably because Dru had killed the whole lot of them a day later.

Remembering that it had been a fair walk through the cavern to find the demon, Spike decided he’d best get moving. These shamans were very strict on punctuality and he had a feeling that if he was even a second late, the promise would be automatically renounced. Better to be early, if that was the case. Gathering his strength, and trying with all his might to ignore the pounding in his head, Spike stood and headed through the maze of tunnels, his vampire senses guiding him back to the shaman…

The meal being finished, everyone was full up and having a wonderful time being around each other. Buffy cleared her throat and tapped her fork against the table-top to attract everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to her, curious as to what she was going to say.

“Okay, guys. I know this isn’t, like, the Last Supper or some big event or anything… but it feels like it should be something. Maybe an everyone-being-friends-again party. But anyway, I just wanted to say that it’s great having us all together again, and that even though we’ve all still got lots of stuff to work through, I know we’re all going to be fine.”

“Here, here,” said Xander, nodding, and drinking a toast that nobody had actually initiated.

“Yes. Well said, Buffy.” That was Giles, who’d been thinking precisely the same thing. Everyone agreed in much the same way and eventually, idle chatter descended again… all except for Dawn, who was glaring somewhat contemptuously at her sister. It was Willow who noticed first.

“What’s the matter, Dawny?”

“How can you all sit there being all buddy-like when Spike’s still missing?” Obviously, she’d been right - they had all forgotten about him. Various gazes assaulted her, mainly apologetic, except for Xander, who bristled at the mere mention of the vampire’s name. “He was a member of the Scoobies, too, and, in case you’ve all forgotten, he’s saved our lives. A lot. You’re all just gonna forget about him?”

Buffy tried to calm her down. “Dawn, honey-“

“I don’t expect you to stick up for him,” she said, pulling away from her sister’s grasp as she stood up. “I know what he did was wrong, Buffy, but that doesn’t mean you can pretend he doesn’t exist any more.” She addressed the room again. “Don’t any of you care? He could be dead!”

Willow, ever the voice of reason and serenity, said, “Dawn, I’m sure he’ll come back. You know good ol’ Spikey; he can’t keep away.”

“What if he doesn’t come back, Will? What then? I don’t see any of you jumping at the chance to figure out where he is or why he left.”

Xander had had enough, and he wasn’t afraid to let this fact be known. By this point, Giles had sighed exasperatedly and buried his head in his hands, pretending he was somewhere else. Xander frowned. “That’s because he’s evil, Dawn. He’s evil and he can be sitting in a Dirt Devil for all I care.”

“Xander!” The admonishment came, surprisingly, from Buffy.

“Are you still defending him?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” She attempted diplomacy. “Dawn, wherever Spike is, he can look after himself and I’m absolutely certain that he will come back eventually, just so he can make my life a living irritation again. And if he doesn’t, well… we’ll think of something. Xander, I’m not going to keep having this same argument with you. Saying it louder and in different ways isn’t going to change anything.”

There was a brief pause while this all sank in, then Dawn flounced from the room in floods of tears. Xander conceded defeat, knowing Buffy was right. Peace didn’t seem to last very long these days. Sighing, Buffy got up from the table. “Anya, I’m sorry. I was hoping we’d be able to have at least one night where one of us didn’t end up in tears.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’ve missed all the drama of being a Scooby.”

Then, as usually occurs in such situations, everyone burst into hysterics just for the sheer absurdity of everything. Buffy and Giles were laughing the hardest, and Anya soon joined in. Even Willow managed a nervous giggle, and eventually, Xander laughed as well. It seemed that it was just what everyone needed.

After a few seconds, Buffy regained control of herself and cleared the amused tears from her eyes. “I guess we’d better go apologise to Dawn…”

Everyone nodded agreement and they headed up the stairs en masse towards her room. Buffy knocked. “Dawn?” There was no reply; in fact, the room seemed curiously silent. “Dawn?” she tried again. Still no answer. Buffy cautiously pushed open the door and everyone stepped inside, to be greeted by an empty room. “Great…” she muttered.

“How’d she get out?” asked Willow. “I didn’t hear the door.”

Indicating the incriminating open window, Buffy said, “You think any sister of mine would use the front door?”

“But… where would she be going?” That was Anya.

“I have a pretty good idea…” said Buffy under her breath. Then, louder, she added. “Wherever she is, she obviously wants to be alone and she’ll come back eventually. And if what I’ve seen of her fighting is any indication, I think she can look after herself pretty well.”

“Buffy’s right,” agreed Giles. “Dawn is deceptively strong.”

Nodding, the Slayer continued. “Best plan of action is to carry on as normal. And when she comes back, make like she was never gone; in my experience, yelling at her doesn’t help. I think we’ve all had enough of yelling lately.” Changing the subject, she ushered everyone out of the room and shut the door behind her. “Anya, you staying here tonight?”

“Uh… I… if it’s no trouble.”

“Of course it isn’t. It’ll be a tight squeeze, though, um… you can either stay in Willow’s room with her and Xander, or find a space in the lounge with Giles.”

Anya considered both possibilities, then turned to look slightly suspiciously at Willow. Without batting an eyelid, she asked, “You’re sleeping with Xander?”

Willow floundered. “Uh… yeah. I mean, ‘yeah’ in the in-the-same-room sense, but not ‘yeah’ in the naked sense…”

Xander saved her. “I’m just staying with her, Anya, just in case she needs anything.”

Willow nodded in a ‘what-he-said’ manner, and Anya seemed to accept this. Turning to Buffy again, she came to a decision. “I think I’ll sleep downstairs with Giles, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” she said. “That okay with you, Giles?”

The older man nodded nervously. “Yes. Anya can have the couch; I’ll take the floor.”

“Ever the gentleman.” Buffy rolled her eyes, and led everyone back downstairs again so they could clear up in the kitchen.

Dawn pulled the familiar leather duster tighter around herself as she meandered between the headstones. In one pocket, she’d hidden a stake and a cross, just in case - even though she was confident in her abilities to fight the Evil Things that might leap out at her, she wasn’t taking any chances. If that failed, she could always run, as usual. She’d come out here to think, and to get out of the house and away from everyone, and hadn’t even intended to go near the cemetery. However, she continually found herself being drawn to it every time.

She was running over what everybody had said about Spike in her mind, wondering who to believe. She wanted to trust her sister’s words - that he’d find his way back from wherever he’d gone - but Xander’s, worryingly, were beginning to feel true. He was evil - he’d always been evil - and it was only the chip that was stopping him from killing them all. Dawn had never believed that, at first, because Spike had always been nice to her. But then again, she’d always been nice to him, too. The fact remained, however, that he was a vampire. And he wasn’t a vampire like Angel - he didn’t have a soul and was only one of the ‘good guys’ because he’d been forced into it.

She’d never, ever doubted that Spike loved her sister, even before he’d figured it out for himself. Why else would he have let her live this long; him, the self-confessed murderer of two Slayers. More to the point, why hadn’t Buffy staked him yet? Dawn had known long ago that there was something between them, way before there even had been, even while they still swore to obliterate each other from the landscape. She knew Spike loved Buffy; she could tell by the way he looked at her. But ever since Xander had told her about what had nearly happened in their bathroom… she was beginning to doubt it. If he loved her, why would he do that?

It didn’t make sense; none of it did. If he loved Buffy, he wouldn’t have left her. He wouldn’t have left me… thought Dawn, sadly. Nothing felt real any more. It hadn’t since Xander had saved Willow; in fact, it had felt wrong all along without Spike there to help save them. It felt even wronger now. And try as she might, Dawn couldn’t help blaming the whole thing on her sister…

Her thoughts came to an abrupt end when she looked up and realised she’d ended up outside his crypt. Even without Spike, it held an aura of comfort for Dawn. She put an ear to the heavy door and heard the very faint sound of Clem watching television in the basement. Sighing, she pushed open the door.

Spike knew he was getting close; he could hear the screams of another person undergoing the trials. He pressed on, following the tortured sounds through the tunnels. Bloody idiots, he thought. Wonder if they’ll get ripped off like I was. To say that Spike was slightly bitter about his experience would have been an extreme understatement. He was more determined than ever to kill the stupid shaman for his mistake. Unfortunately, that would mean finding his own way back to Sunnydale, and he’d set his heart on returning in a couple of hours by magical means.

Well… he could always come back, Slayer in tow, and they could kill him together. That’d be right justified, that would. Before he could envisage a possible future for himself and Buffy, however, common sense reared its ugly head. He had to apologise, first and foremost, and that, he suspected, would come after a long and arduous guilt trip until she deigned to even look at him again. He’d messed up, big time. The possibility of a reconciliation, if at all, was a long, long way off.

And anyway, first he had to get back, which wasn’t going to happen if he continued to sit on the floor thinking about it.

Clem looked up from his bucket-o’-chicken when he heard the door creaking open. He hadn’t been expecting visitors. That could mean only two things: either something big and nasty had decided to take up residence in what it thought was an empty crypt, or… Nah. Couldn’t be Spike. He’d’ve made a bigger entrance. Which could only mean that it was the Big Nasty Thing.

Putting down the bucket, Clem rose from the armchair and looked for something he could use as a weapon. He found a large piece of wood and tested it for strength, then, wielding it in what he hoped was a menacing way, he hid behind the chair and waited.

His floppy ears pricked up - metaphorically - when he heard someone drop down into the basement of the crypt. He waited. The Thing didn’t move.

“Hello?” called a voice. It was a very high-pitched Thing. Clem waited. “Anyone here?”

The Thing took a step or two forwards, and Clem made his move. He leapt out suddenly from behind the chair and let out a war-cry, thrashing wildly with the piece of wood. He dropped it just as suddenly when the Thing - now identified as a small, brown-haired girl - screamed, which in turn set Clem off screaming, too.

They screamed at each other for a good five seconds, and then Dawn recovered and smacked him, repeatedly. “Jesus, Clem! You scared the life out of me!”

The demon fended off her blows as best he could, cowering. “S-sorry! I thought you were a demon!”

Dawn stopped hitting him. “Gee, that’s reassuring…”

Clem stood up straight and looked at her. He recognised her - it had been a while since he’d seen her - but he couldn’t quite think where from… Then, he remembered. “Hey, I know you… You’re the Slayer’s sister, right? Dawn?”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “One of these days someone’ll remember me as just ‘Dawn’ without the ‘Slayer’s sister’ part.”

“What brings you here?”

“Dunno,” she admitted. “I was just walking and ended up here… I used to come here a lot.”

“Oh.” Clem smiled widely. “Well, I don’t have much in the way of food, but…” He picked up the bucket and offered it to her. “You can have some chicken if you want.”

She waved a hand. “I’ll pass…” Her gaze turned to the television. “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Oh, nothing, really… whatever’s on…”

Dawn nodded. She’d almost hoped Spike would be home. She supposed, though, that Clem’s company was currently better than her sister’s. “You mind if I crash here for a while?”

“Yeah, why not. I’m sure Spike wouldn’t mind.”

The mere mention of Spike suddenly set Dawn off into floods of tears. Clem panicked, not used to small girls breaking down in front of him, and manoeuvred her into the armchair. Dawn attempted to calm down while he went about searching for something, muttering under his breath. “I’m sure I had a Kleenex around here somewhere… Where’d I put that?” Then, he found it, stuck in one of the folds of his arms. He plucked it out and offered it to her. By this point, she’d recovered.

“Ew… no, thanks…” She sniffed.

Clem shrugged and tucked the Kleenex back where it had come from, in case he needed it later, then knelt in front of Dawn. “What was all that about?”

“Nothing. Sorry…”

“Now, I’m no expert, but from what I know about mortals, they don’t usually cry over nothing…”

“It’s just… I was kinda hoping Spike might be back, but…” She let the sentence linger.

“Oh… Well, you can see he’s not.” Seeing that she looked to be on the verge of tears again, he added. “But hey… don’t get upset… Good ol’ Clem’ll set you to rights.”

“Thanks…” Then, it occurred to her. If Clem was looking after the crypt, he probably had a pretty good idea of Spike’s whereabouts. “Hey, Clem… I don’t suppose… Do you know where he is?”

Clement shifted nervously, unsure whether to tell her. Then, seeing the desperate, pleading look in her eyes, he decided he’d better tell her. “Yeah…”

“Really?” she asked, excitedly. “Where? Clem, you gotta tell me, please!”

“He’s… he’s in Africa…”

Dawn had been hoping it was somewhere she could take a bus to, not the other side of the world. Her face dropped. “Wh-what’s he doing in Africa?”

“He went to get his chip out.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe he’d do that. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. He said he’d done something bad…” Dawn knew what he’d done even if Clem didn’t. “He said that he couldn’t stop thinking about Buffy - he seemed real guilty about something - and he thought it was the chip in his head, making him feel like that. He said he wanted to give the Slayer what she deserved, whatever that means.”

That made sense. Realising and admitting that he loved Buffy had only happened after the Initiative put the chip in his head. Dawn didn’t think it was responsible, however; she knew it was some deeply buried, inherent goodness in him that made him love her. He’d loved Dru, after all. What didn’t make sense was where he was. “But… why Africa?”

“That’s kinda my fault,” admitted Clem, grudgingly. “I told him about this cousin of mine who’d gone to see some shaman in Africa…”

“Clem!”

“Sorry! I didn’t think he’d take it seriously!”

“It’s Spike, you idiot! You know what he’s like when he gets some stupid scheme in his head!”

“I know, I know…”

Seeing that it really wasn’t directly Clem’s fault, Dawn calmed down. “Okay, did he say when he’d come back?”

“Afraid not. He didn’t even say if he’d come back.”

“You… you mean he might have gone for good?” Clem nodded. “Oh, God… he can’t… he has to come back.”

Clem placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he will. He left all his stuff here.”

Dawn nodded. Everything was starting to make sense. Spike had left because he couldn’t face what he’d done, not because of something Buffy had said to him, although she suspected Buffy must have said something to him afterwards. She did have that wonderful way with words. Getting up from the chair, she said, “Thanks, Clem. It’s so much better now I know where he is.”

“No problem.”

Dawn looked down at the duster she was still wearing. “He… uh… he left this at our house that night. I’ve been looking after it for him, but… maybe I should leave it here for him. You know, for when he comes back?”

“Why don’t you keep a hold of it, Dawn. Then you can give it to him in person.”

That sounded like a much better idea, and she beamed. “Yeah. Yeah, I will….”

The glowy-eyed shaman watched the entrance to his lair with interest, waiting for what he knew was coming. In a few minutes, the chipped, and now souled, vampire would crawl back to him. He’d almost considered not keeping his promise and making him find his own way back home. After all, he’d managed to get to Africa just fine, so surely he could leave the same way.

Then, he considered that he probably owed it to him. After all, he did make a mistake, not removing the chip. And it would only be a tiny thing to do, really, sending him back. Just a wave of the arm and a brief incantation and it would all be over, and the stupid vampire would be gone.

Right on cue, Spike trudged through the cave entrance, head held high to make it look like he was trudging at all. He looked the shaman defiantly in the eyes. “Right, mate. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

The shaman blinked, momentarily shrouding the cave in blackness. “You’re early.”

“I know. I can wait.”

Silence descended as the shaman mentally ticked off the seconds in his head. Spike continued to glower at him - for such a small creature, he was certainly persistent. Eventually, the time came and the shaman looked across at the blond vampire. “Are you ready?”

“About bloody time,” muttered Spike. “Yeah. Just send me back, already!”

“As you wish…”

The shaman lifted an arm and swept it dramatically, mumbling something under his breath. Using his magic, he lifted the vampire effortlessly into midair, and, with a gesture of his raised arm, hurled him out of the cave. This all happened within a split second. Spike, only vaguely aware of what was happening, was enveloped in a blinding flash of white light and then his world turned black…

Buffy had long since given up worrying about her sister, and now, at eleven o’clock, she’d pretty much given up on staying awake, too. Dawn would come home when it suited her; Buffy had done the same at sixteen and really didn’t have a right to reprimand her for it. In fact, Buffy had done the same without her mother knowing where she was, or that she was even out. At least she knew where Dawn was, or, at least, had a pretty good idea. So, having made sure that Giles and Anya were comfortable (he had decided to try and sleep in a chair in the end, leaving Anya to the couch), Buffy had announced ‘lights out’ in the house, and retreated to the momentarily safe haven of her bedroom.

She curled up into a protective ball under the covers and waited patiently for sleep to inevitably take over. Tonight, she was, thankfully, too exhausted to think about Spike - working double shifts did have some advantages other than the extra pay - and lying there, pleasantly not thinking about him, and only semi-worried about Dawn, Buffy drifted off into slumber…

The permeating blackness cleared from Spike’s vision and was replaced by a slightly-less-blinding-than-before white light. This light then turned a very pleasant, calm shade of pale blue, then darkened to a deep navy, almost black again. A portal formed, and began to pull him in. Since all of this occurred literally in the blink of an eye, he had very little choice in the matter. The next thing he knew, the magic had ended and he was fully aware of what was happening.

What was happening turned out to be him falling through the air in a downwards direction, at great speed, hitting something soft, bouncing once, and landing in a heap on a hard floor almost immediately afterwards. He groaned, previously broken bones now aching even more from the impact, and attempted to work out where he was.

Buffy woke with a start when something heavy landed at the foot of her bed and bounced off, frightening the life out of her. She sat straight up, noticing the strange, bluish light in her ceiling and passing it off as the end of a dream, reached for a stake, then crawled cautiously to the end of the bed to find out what had woken her up. Whatever it was, it was groaning in agony, having lost an argument with the floor. She peered over the edge of the bed.

It was human-shaped, and male-shaped, and was curled into a ball with its (or his) back to her. The man was clad in black jeans, faded, and covered in sand, and his bare back was dotted with lacerations and burns. Then, she noticed the oh-so-familiar shock of bleached-blond hair and froze. It couldn’t be…

Spike heard movement behind him and prepared himself to be attacked, turning his head to see his pursuer. He was met with the vision of Buffy about to stake him, and immediately raised his arms to fend off the impending blows. He lowered them after a couple of seconds when none came, and looked up.

Buffy found herself unable to move or to form a coherent thought. It was Spike. He was back. He’d fallen through her ceiling, and was now sprawled on her bedroom floor, shirtless and in pain, and staring up at her with a mixture of far too many emotions in his eyes. The most prominent emotion seemed to be confusion, mirroring her own expression exactly. She stared at him a long time, watching as he twisted his body around to kneel in front of her - he was obviously light-headed from whatever he’d been through and standing up was proving too difficult.

They gazed at each other for a long time, neither entirely certain what to say. Buffy briefly considered that she might be dreaming again, except that the pounding of her heart against her ribcage seemed to prove otherwise. Spike’s dark eyes revealed nothing and everything about what he’d been through, telling more than the wounds on his chest and back ever could. There was also something else there, lurking… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but which was horribly familiar just the same.

Spike waited for Buffy to make a move. He’d expected to be dumped somewhere in town, the cemetery, perhaps, or his crypt ideally. Being dropped straight into Buffy’s room wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. Talk about into the lion’s den. He knew the easiest and safest thing would have been to run, but at the moment it wasn’t an option. Every limb still hurt; whatever the Hell he’d been sent through, it hadn’t been the most pleasant of experiences.

Buffy finally dropped the stake, throwing it onto the bed behind her. With her nerves on edge as they were, she didn’t want to run the risk of accidentally staking him. The wounds on his back had seemed bad, but those on his chest were far worse - even with his vampire healing, the cuts were deep, and the burns were still raw. There were even what looked like tiny bite marks - hundreds of them. Spike watched her as she looked him over, horror evident on her face.

She still wasn’t entirely convinced that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. Very slowly, she reached out a hand towards him. Spike was curious, but didn’t move just in case he frightened her off. Whatever her next action was going to be, it would define how they might continue, and they both needed to see it through.

Buffy’s hand continued its slow journey towards him almost of its own volition; Buffy was as curious as him about what she was doing. All her brain could register at that moment was the fact that he was back; she felt completely numb inside and out, and entirely unsure what to do, at least on a conscious level. Her hand kept moving forwards. Finally, it came to rest on his cheek.

With her touch, Spike’s resolve completely crumbled. It had been too long since he’d had any physical contact with her. He knew it was a stupid idea to do what he was about to do, but after everything he’d been through, for her, he couldn’t care less. Despite the fact that his every muscle was screaming in agony, he covered her hand with his own, then, never tearing his gaze from hers, he very slowly leaned forwards to kiss her.

A split second after their lips met, Buffy’s brain re-engaged and logic took over, and she pushed him away. Then, she started hitting him wherever she could reach, regardless of his wounds, shouting at him while she did so. “God dammit, Spike! Where the Hell have you been? And why are you back? Why now? Why here? And where have you been?!” Her tirade continued in much the same manner as she continued to slap him.

He managed to fend off most of the blows, wincing whenever she didn’t miss. Her ranting eventually turned into nonsensical ramblings as a violent sobbing took over, and, with it, she weakened in her attack to such an extent that he was able to seize both her wrists and stop her. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to stop crying any time soon, and if he didn’t do something she’d end up making herself hyperventilate. So, somewhat nervously after her previous reaction, and ignoring the burning pain all over his chest, Spike pulled her into his arms.

“Shh,” he muttered. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” He rubbed comforting circles on her back and she began to calm down. When her breathing had settled down, she spoke again, quieter, for the moment making no attempt to push away from him.

“Spike… seriously. Where’ve you been?”

He doubted she could handle it if he told her the truth just yet. “Doesn’t matter. It’d take too long to explain, anyway.”

Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on her, enjoying the feel of his arms being around her. Then, apparently simultaneously, they both remembered the last time they’d seen each other - in her bathroom - and he let go of her at the same time as she pushed him off. This resulted in Spike getting to his feet, and Buffy propelling herself backwards across the bed. She stared at him with a similar expression in her eyes as before, mixed with curiosity as she tried to figure out what it was that was different.

Spike’s guilt came back four-fold, with the added bonus of the soul making him relive the moment word for word, action for action. He didn’t move.

Buffy got up from the bed, her eyes never leaving him for fear of him vanishing like he had in the dream. She opened a drawer in her dresser, rummaged around in it briefly, and pulled out something. “Here,” she said, throwing it to him. “Take that, and get out.” He examined the item - it was, to his surprise, one of his tee-shirts. Before he could question exactly why she had one, she repeated, “I said, get out.”

“But-“

“Spike,” she frowned. “I can’t… I can’t do this now, okay?”

“Buffy… please. There’s something I have to tell you; it’s important.”

“No. You cannot just… just fall back into my life and expect me to listen to you. We will talk. Later. But not now, and not here. Just take your shirt and go.” She kept her voice low and calm, but they both knew she was close to breaking again. When Spike didn’t move, she went to the door and opened it for him, giving him a look that implied if he didn’t leave of his own volition, she’d make leave by force.

“Fine.” He pulled the shirt over his head. “But we will talk, Slayer. I’m going to hold you to that.”

She nodded vaguely and indicated the landing and the stairs beyond. “Don’t wake anyone up on your way out.” Her obvious dismissal hurt him, and she could tell, but it was too late to take it back. Grudgingly, Spike headed downstairs, Buffy following him a few steps behind.

When he reached the bottom, before he could open the front door, it opened for him, and Dawn came through. She’d not yet mastered climbing back up to her window. She froze in the doorway, not sure whether to fear her sister’s wrath, or have some kind of reaction to Spike’s sudden presence in the house. She chose the latter, ignoring her sister completely.

“S-Spike…?”

“Yes, Nibblet… ‘s me.”

She swallowed. All the way home, she’d been thinking over the same things as before - missing him, wondering why he’d left, doubting his loyalty, hating him for what he’d nearly done to Buffy, and, since Clem’s revelation, paranoid he was going to turn on them all. However, looking at him in front of her, big-eyed and obviously recovering from some terrible ordeal, she instantly dismissed that idea. Having him here, however, was too much for her to deal with and she could think of nothing else to say except: “I… uh… looked after this for you.” She took off his duster, then dropped it at his feet before running up the stairs and locking herself in her room.

“Dawn!” called both Buffy and Spike, simultaneously.

At this point, several things happened which resulted in all hell breaking loose in the Summers’ house. Firstly, the slamming of Dawn’s bedroom door (and before that, the shouting in Buffy’s room) had woken up Xander and Willow, and they were now making their way down the staircase. In the lounge, the commotion near the front door had woken Giles and Anya. Every adult member of the Scoobies instantly assembled in the hallway, more or less surrounding Spike and forming a somewhat protective circle behind Buffy, even though they didn’t realise it.

Anya was the first to react, her gaze blank. “We were talking about you earlier,” she said. “But don’t worry. The topic of our sleeping together didn’t come up. In fact, it’s something none of us would like to remember.” Spike looked at her, embarrassed and guilty, unable to think of anything to say, before tearing his gaze away. Unfortunately, the next person he focussed on happened to be Xander.

“So, the Peroxide Wonder finally dragged his sorry ass back to Sunnydale…” he said. “You’re damn lucky I don’t have a stake on me, Spike. Damn lucky…”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Whelp,” muttered Spike, suddenly much more eager to leave.

“Oh. Name-calling. How mature,” retorted Xander, rather pointlessly.

Giles, standing close to Anya and directly behind Buffy, stopped yet another argument before it could happen. “Xander…” The accused backed off, and Giles turned to Spike, disdain evident in his eyes. “Now listen here, Spike. I know what’s been happening; I know everything. And if you so much as lay a finger on any of these girls-“ (he indicated with his head to encompass Buffy, Anya, Willow, and Dawn upstairs) “-I will personally drive a stake through your undead heart.”

Nobody had ever seen Giles so murderously protective before, not even Spike, and they were all slightly unnerved. Buffy gave her Watcher a warning look to imply she could fight her own battles with Spike. The vampire took a step closer to the door, shrugging into his duster as he did so. “You’ll all be pleased to know I was just leavin’.” He opened the door wider, and added, sarcastically: “And thanks for the welcome wagon. ‘Preciate it.”

Before leaving, he looked at each of them in turn, taking in the loathing on both Xander’s and Giles’ faces, Anya’s blank expression as she avoided his eyes - she’d seen the change in him if nobody else had, and knew what it was - and Buffy’s face while she attempted to sort out her feelings. He stared at her a long time, then said, “As for you, love - we need to talk. I’ll be waiting…” Finally, he looked at Willow, who’d said nothing throughout. She gave him a small, weak, but genuine smile, and waved one hand in a gesture of farewell. After all, he’d done nothing to her. Spike smiled back, glad that someone wasn’t set to kill him, before leaving, closing the door after him.

Everybody watched the door close in silence. Then, every eye in the room turned to Buffy, awaiting an explanation. She sighed. “Everyone just go back to bed. I have to talk to Dawn.”

“But-“

“Don’t say a word, Xander. I’ll… I’ll try and explain in the morning, but right now, I have something more important to do.” With that, she pushed through their human (and demon) wall and headed upstairs, knocked quietly on Dawn’s door, then disappeared inside the room. The rest of the Scoobies all looked at each other with varying expressions of confusion, but said nothing.

It was Willow who broke the eerie silence. “Buffy’s right. We should all g-go back to sleep.”

“You think I can sleep knowing Bleach Boy was here?” asked Xander. “His very presence disgusts me.”

“I know, but… h-he’s been through a lot, Xander; can’t you tell? Didn’t you see his eyes?”

“No,” he muttered, semi-comically. “I was too busy trying to make his head explode with the power of my mind.”

The ex-Wiccan smiled at his humour, then continued, casting her gaze on Anya as she did so. “There’s something different… I-I don’t know what, exactly, but…”

“Willow’s right,” clarified the justice demon. “Spike’s very different now. He’s-“

“Whatever it is,” interrupted Giles, “I’m sure he’ll tell us in his own time, or Buffy will. And I agree - we should all try and go back to sleep and let Buffy deal with this in her own way.”

There was a collective nod of agreement, and the group separated, Willow and Xander heading back upstairs, and Giles and Anya returning to the living room. They’d all forgotten how much fun it was having Spike around. Normality had returned to their lives along with him, and pretty soon things would start feeling like old times again…

Spike threw open the door to his crypt with such force that it banged on the wall and frightened the life out of Clem, who was fast asleep in the chair, a re-run of Passions playing on the television. He’d been right - Spike definitely made a big entrance. The demon got up just as Spike slammed the door again and dropped heavily down into the basement of his still rather charred crypt, his expression bleak and apparently incredibly annoyed. Before saying anything, he rooted around in the pocket of his duster, and, relieved, pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He lit up gratefully and took a long drag, his mood lightening slightly as he did so.

Clem broke the ice, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, buddy.”

“Clem,” Spike said, nodding.

“I kept the place nice ‘n’ tidy for you.”

Spike looked around, took in the empty chicken buckets, and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. So I see…”

Clem immediately set about tidying them up, muttering. “Was gonna get rid of those…” He collected them all, deposited them behind the television out of sight, and smiled sheepishly. “So, um… how did it go? Get your chip out?”

Spike merely glared. Then, realising Clem couldn’t read his mind, he explained. “No. Bloody shaman got it wrong, didn’t he?”

“So… he left it in?”

The vampire nodded, tossing the cigarette at a wall, bored of it despite the fact he’d been craving one for weeks. He just didn’t have the energy. “Not only that, the soddin’ idiot gave me a soul to go with it. As if bein’ Love’s Bitch wasn’t bad enough already…”

“A soul?”

“A soul.”

Clem looked sympathetic. He’d had the unfortunate experience of having to listen to a drunken Spike rambling on about Angel’s brooding, and how he swore he’d never be like that. It now seemed to be becoming something of a reality. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Whoa… buddy… that’s… real bad. But, hey, if y’ever need to brood, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Damn right you bloody won’t.” Clem smiled; at least he hadn’t lost his sense of humour. “Do me a favour, mate. If I ever end up like Peaches, bein’ all high-and-mighty and trying to save the world, promise me you’ll cut my head off.”

“Only if I can live here afterwards,” he said, thoughtfully.

Spike shook his hand. “You got yourself a deal, Clement.”

An awkward silence descended, then Clem started rambling. “Uh… Dawn was here earlier. I had to tell her where you were, but… I think she took it okay. Said she was looking after your… oh, well, she must have given it back… so that means you’ve seen her already?” Spike nodded, just about getting the gist of what he was on about. “Right. So that means you’ve spoken to the Slayer, too?”

He nodded again. “Well, ‘spoken to’ is probably too strong an expression. ‘Fell through her ceiling and scared the life out of her then tried to kiss her’ is probably nearer the mark.”

“Huh?”

“The shaman. He sent me back. Right back. Straight into Buffy’s room, of all places.” Clem nodded, the “oh” implied. “She wouldn’t even talk to me. Can’t say I blame her, though. Think I scared the Nibblet half to death, too.”

“Nah…” The soft voice came from behind him, causing him to tense. “She was just surprised to see you.”

Spike, however, was even more surprised to hear what he’d just heard. This was exactly the last thing he’d been expecting. Without turning around, found his voice, and stammered, “B-Buffy…?”