And she was there in a monastery watching three monks chanting in a circle. There was great danger and they had to hurry, but they were focused on their task. In the center of their circle was a glowing sphere that pulsed with power, and as she watched the monks began to give the sphere form.

The spell had been a year in the planning. Once the decision to send The Key to the Slayer had been made, careful preparations were put into motion. Details and items from the Slayer’s life had been collected and weaved into the fabric of the spell. Dawn saw it all from her vantage point, meticulously memorizing every detail: the words, the incense that burned, the items in the Circle. Made from the Slayer’s blood- gathered from bloodstained clothing stolen from the house- and drawn from her DNA, the monks had forged a sister. They used the power of the Key to give the body life, constructing the mortal coil around the Key, and calling forth a Soul from the Ether to inhabit it.

After the form was created and the Soul Called, the second step of the spell was to send the form to the Slayer and rebuild the fabric of memory to include the new sister. The monks were deeply embroiled in this task when the Beast interrupted them. They would have liked to have been more thorough, made their spell more foolproof, but they ran out of time. In one last desperate burst, they sent their creation out into the hands of the Slayer, and succumbed to the wrath of Glory.

Coming back to present day, Dawn opened her eyes gifted not only with the knowledge she sought, but with a new awareness of herself. She was so much more than anyone knew or suspected. She was The Key, and within her teenage body pulsed a magic source of infinite breadth and depth. It was a power source the likes of which Willow and Tara had never dreamed of, with knowledge of millennia of Magick, and she could draw upon it to recreate the monks’ spell.

Her job would be easier than theirs because she already knew the form she wanted to create. The trickiest part of the spell would be Calling Buffy’s Soul back from the Beyond to inhabit the body. But she had time to plan and carefully cast the spells. No Glory loomed wrathful and hideous on the horizon, no Knights were laying siege to the doors. She could take care and do it right. She could bring her sister back, not back from the dead, but reborn from Dawn’s own blood.

It took her weeks to prepare, weeks of clandestine research, gathering of components, and careful planning. There were days when she was certain she was going to be found out, only to talk her way out of the situation with a gift for obfuscation that surprised even herself. As the days passed and the time grew closer, she was amazed at how easily she could manipulate them, even Spike. They had no idea, or if they did know she was up to something, she was sure that they had no idea of the magnitude of her plans. She misbehaved just enough to throw them off the scent, using what she had learned from her vampire protector to keep them from discovering her secrets.

Finally, after nearly a month of preparation, she had gathered all of the necessary components and was ready to cast her spells. She chose a night when Xander and Anya were to be her babysitters while Spike went on patrol. It was too dangerous to spellcast when Willow and Tara were there because they were sure to feel the Magick. If they discovered her too soon, all of her careful plans would be ruined. Neither Xander nor Anya had any Talent, and if she begged off to do homework in her room, they would not think twice- and they would probably have sex on the couch like they usually did when she went upstairs. That was fine with her because it meant that they would be distracted.

She had also engineered it so Spike would be gone most of the night, Slaying. She’d hated to hurt him, even if he was unaware that she was the cause of his pain, but she had needed him out of the house. Over the past two days, she had carefully cultivated Buffy’s memory with Spike. She had left articles of Buffy’s clothing where she knew he would find them. She used Buffy’s soap, shampoo and perfume to invoke the memory of Buffy’s scent. She played Buffy’s favorite music and used her favorite phrases in off-handed, seemingly innocent ways. By the time 48 hours had passed, Dawn knew Spike was nearly out of his mind with missing Buffy. She knew he tried to hide his black moods from her, thought he had hidden his vicious Slays from her eyes and ears, but she knew about them. She knew how he killed when he got a certain look in his eyes, and he had left the house with Death on his face and woe befall any demon who crossed his path tonight. He would not be back until well after midnight, which was just what she needed. She kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful just before he went out. He had smiled softly and pet her hair, then slipped out the door. He had no idea what she was up to, and she hoped that she would have a surprise waiting for him that would make all of the pain he had been going through the last three months go away.

She dawdled with Xander and Anya for an hour or so, then begged off to do her homework upstairs. She waited until she heard the tell-tale sound of pleasures being shared before beginning her spells. She drew the circle and lit the candles, chanting softly. In the center of the circle was a picture of her sister, surrounded by things that had once belonged to her: intimate, personal things. Strands of Buffy’s hair taken from her hairbrush were entwined with some of Dawn’s own hair and placed directly on the picture of Buffy. Dawn spit upon them and dropped five drops of blood from her finger on top. The components assembled, she sat back and began to recite the incantations, reaching into herself to access the power and knowledge of The Key.

Time crawled by as she weaved her spell, drawing on her power source to build her form. It was slow going and tiresome, but eventually a shape began to mold from the items within the Circle. Guided by the memory and the DNA imprints, Dawn rebuilt her sister’s body cell by cell, part by part until the complete form of Buffy Summers lay waiting for her Soul. It lay motionless in the center of the Circle, naked and exact in every detail, down to the bite scars on her neck.

The first half of her task was complete, and Dawn nearly sobbed with happiness and triumph at the sight of it. It had taken longer than she had thought it would, and more energy, but there was still much left to do. The clock read well after midnight and she knew Spike would be home soon. She had to hurry and cast the Calling spell to bring Buffy’s Soul back from the Beyond before the vampire returned. The spell was a variant of the one the Gypsies had used to curse Angel with his soul, only this spell was not a curse in any sense of the word. It was a restorative spell once used by mystic healers centuries ago, and the knowledge of it had been supplied to her by The Key. Reaching for the Thessulan Orb she had taken from the Magic Shop, she began the second spell.

This one was easier and did not tax her energy as much. That was good because she was fast becoming exhausted. The words fell off her lips as she burned the components and waved her hand over the sacred bowl. The Power built and a gust of wind blew in from the window that suddenly opened itself of its own accord. The Thessulan Orb glowed and pulsed with light, increasing in brightness until it was almost blinding, and Dawn’s voice grew louder and louder until she was shouting, trying to drown out the wind. Then, just as the Power reached its apex, the Orb shattered and the body in the center of the Circle jerked and drew breath, the eyes flying open in sudden shock.

The release caused a backlash of Power that slammed Dawn down, knocking the breath out of her. She gave a startled cry as her back hit the floor, just as Buffy Summers’ body sat up and screamed.

Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. Spike could Feel it, and it made his feet run faster as he hurried back home. When he neared the house, he could hear Dawn’s voice chanting through her open bedroom window and he saw an unearthly glow emanating from something in the room. Cursing in every language he knew, he burst through the door, ignoring the two people in the living room who were hastily scrambling for clothes as he leaped up the stairs. He was halfway up when he heard the sound of breaking glass, then something hitting the floor and then a scream, a blood-curdling, heart-wrenching scream. He froze on the stairs for a moment before uttering his own cry and charging for Dawn’s bedroom.

With a savage kick, he forced open the locked door, nearly ripping it off its hinges, and stopped dead in the doorway. Dawn lay sprawled on the floor, feebly trying to get up. Around her were the remnants of multiple spell components and what was left of a Sacred Circle. But it was what was in said Circle that made his unbeating heart turn cold. There, naked and shivering in what was most likely shock, was Buffy Summers.

Dawn made a choked noise and he snapped out of his paralysis long enough to rush to her side. He grabbed her, shaking her roughly, not wanting to take his eyes off the naked woman in the room.

"Dawn, what have you done?" he demanded.

Dawn smiled, her eyes glazed and her skin sweaty with exertion. "I made her out of me."

"Oh my God," Xander gasped, and Spike looked up to see him and Anya in the doorway.

"Buffy?"

"Oh dear God," Anya breathed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Dawn gave a triumphant laugh then passed out.

They stilled, breathing heavily, as Buffy looked at them, her eyes wide and confused, and waited as Buffy examined her hands. Not knowing exactly what they were dealing with yet, Spike deliberately placed Dawn’s unconscious body behind him so that he could protect her if needed, but when Buffy looked up again, there was a hint of recognition in her eyes.

"Buffy?" Xander tried again, and she turned her head in his direction.

"Xander?"

The single word caused both Xander and Spike to burst into tears.

"What? What happened? Where am I?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," Xander babbled.

"I’ll call Giles," Anya offered and ran for the phone.

Xander was the first to touch her and that galled Spike. The whelp was the only one with the presence of mind to grab a robe and cover Buffy’s naked, shivering body, when he- the Big Bad himself, was too busy not believing what he was seeing to do a damn thing except cry. Then she looked at him.

"Spike?"

His heart lodged in his throat and he swallowed hard. "Yes, luv?" he gasped hoarsely.

She stared at him for several moments, long enough for him to get very very nervous, until her expression changed from one of confusion to one of horrified understanding.

"I was dead wasn’t I?"

It wasn’t a question, and he knew she was looking to him because he was the one person in the room who would not lie to her or sugarcoat the truth. He managed to nod, and she looked away, her head shaking.

"How long?" she demanded.

"Three months."

"Three months? What happened?"

Spike cast a glance at Xander, silently pleading.

"You… you sacrificed yourself for Dawn," Xander replied. "The Portal started opening and the only way to close it was…"

"Was to give it the blood it wanted," Buffy finished. "I jumped into the portal. I remember. I remember now… oh God! Xander! Anya!?"

"Anya’s fine," Xander assured.

Buffy grabbed his arms. "And Willow and Tara and Giles?"

"They’re all fine. Even Tara. Willow was able to restore her. You were the only one who…"

Realizing that she was probably hurting Xander with her grip, she let him go.

"I see…"

There was more silence, then Buffy asked softly. "So, how did I get here?"

"Dawn," Spike replied. "Dawn made you out of her."

It was several hours before all would be discovered and divined. They had to do it without Dawn because the teen had drained herself into exhaustion and was in no condition to be interrogated. Once everyone had arrived and the initial shock of reunion had somewhat worn off, Willow and Tara were able to piece together what Dawn had done by examining the spellbooks and components. It was then that the sheer magnitude of Dawn’s undertaking, and her deception, was revealed. How she had managed to keep so much from so many for so long, defied their understanding, but earned her their grudging respect. As for Buffy, she had no memory of anything that occurred after she jumped into the portal, which coincided directly with what Angel had experienced after Willow had restored his soul.

They knew it would be days, perhaps even weeks, before everything was sorted out and understood, but for now they all basked in the knowledge that Buffy had been returned to them more or less whole. She was bewildered and somewhat disoriented, and she had a little trouble making her body do what she wanted, but for the most part she was handling her rebirth much better than anyone could expect. In fact, of all of them, Buffy seemed to be dealing with what happened the best; probably because she had no recollection of being dead, and aside from some minor motor control problems, she was physically unscathed. Whether or not she was mentally and emotionally unscathed had yet to be seen, but no one wanted to face that right now.

It was close to sunrise and everyone, including Buffy, was starting to feel the effects of lack of sleep, and the adrenaline rush was wearing off. Spike especially was barely hanging on, having been up since the early morning and out late Slaying. Willow and Tara were also reacting to the remnants of Dawn’s spells, and the power fluctuations were draining on the women. It was decided that a rest was in order, and sleeping arrangements were hastily defined. Anya and Xander would take Joyce’s bed while Giles took the couch, and Willow and Tara slept in sleeping bags on the floor.

Buffy followed Spike into the basement, and took in the simple but obvious living quarters. The vampire shrugged at her askance glance.

"I moved in the day you…" he explained. "To be closer to Dawn. So I could…"

"So you could protect her," Buffy finished.

Spike nodded. "I’ll uhhh… I’ll move my stuff back to my crypt just as soon as the sun sets…"

"Why?"

He blinked at her in confusion. Not daring to hope that she would let him stay.

"Because now that you’re back…"

She stopped him by raising her hand and he shut up immediately, mesmerized by the mere sight of her. He had yet to touch her, and frankly he was nearly out of his mind with wanting to touch her, but at the same time terrified to touch her because he feared that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

"Do you know what the first thing I really saw when I woke up tonight was?" she asked him.

He shook his head.

"It was you guarding my sister." She came closer, her eyes burning into him with their intensity. "For three months you have steadfastly kept your promise to me. You have kept Dawn safe and looked after her as if she were your own flesh and blood. That says more to me than any words ever could. I want you to stay, Spike, at least until we get everything all sorted out. After that, if you want to move out, that’s up to you."

He felt like screaming for joy, but he held himself in check- so tightly that he barely managed a nod. Her lips pursed and it seemed that she might say more, but then she gave a quick nod and left him in the basement. When the door closed behind her, he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Wasn’t sure if he could live with the unanswered questions that hung between them, then he thought himself a stupid idiot for thinking dour thoughts when Buffy was back in his life. Questions would be asked and answered, later. For now it was time to sleep and dream of a brighter future.

In the end, Buffy hadn’t wanted to sleep alone. She ended up curled between Willow and Tara on the living room floor, wrapped in blankets and sleeping bags. She slept a thankfully dreamless sleep until noise from the kitchen woke her. Slipping out from between the two lovers, she shuffled into the kitchen to investigate. She found a disheveled Spike feeding a strange dog. He started when she came in, and the look that flashed across his face before he could stop it was heartbreaking.

"Did I wake you?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head. "Not really. I was waking up anyway."

He nodded and looked away, running a hand through his tousled hair. She noticed that it was longer and showed some serious roots, as if he hadn’t been bothering to look after his appearance. After all that had happened, she wasn’t terribly surprised to discover that. She moved closer and leaned against the counter.

"Where’d she come from?" she asked, pointing to the dog.

"The Pound. Nibblet wanted a dog."

She nodded. "Mom never let us have one. She wasn’t too keen on pets."

"That’s what Lil’ Bit said."

Buffy gave the dog a good look. "She’s kinda cute though."

"Yeah, she’s all right. Not much in the brains department, although sometimes I think she’s just faking it for our benefit."

She laughed. "Dogs can be like that. What’s her name?"

"Annie."

"Ann’s my middle name," she commented.

"I know," came the soft reply.

Silence fell between them and Buffy looked around. The clock on the microwave said 1:22, but she couldn’t see outside to confirm it was early afternoon because of the heavy curtains that were drawn across the windows. The fact that they were closed pretty much told her what she needed to know anyway. She turned her gaze to Spike, who now had his back to her as he put a kettle on the stove and fussed with a can of coffee. His shoulders were extremely tense, his movements quick and abrupt. Steeling her resolve, she approached him carefully.

"Spike, I…"

He jerked at the sound of her voice and hopped away, his eyes wide. She gave him a scrutinizing look and moved closer, only to have him shift away again. It became obvious that he was keeping her out of his personal space, but she didn’t really understand why. She would have thought he’d be all over her by now.

"Spike…" she tried again.

"Not here. Not now. When we’re alone. Please," he begged in answer, and she looked at him as if seeing him for the fir st time.

He let her see the raw and aching need on his face for just a moment, and then she understood. He wasn’t touching her because he needed to keep tight controls on himself and contact with her would break that resolve. She was familiar enough with Angel to recognize it when she saw it, but she could only guess at Spike’s motivations. She nodded and accepted the fact that she would have to find out later.

"How’s Dawn?" she asked, changing the subject to something they could both agree on.

"Still dea… sleeping," he replied, catching himself before he could say ‘dead to the world.’ "But that’s to be expected. Will said something about her being completely drained. She’ll prolly sleep until sundown. Which is fine with me because it gives me time to figure out how I want to feel."

"I know what you mean," she admitted.

"I mean, I should be angry, y’know. I warned her to stay away from the mojo. I told her it was too dangerous. I even threatened to spank her bum if I caught her doing anything stupid."

"I’ll bet that went over well."

"Like a lead balloon. Thing is, I thought she was listening to me, y’know? And now I find out she’s been playing all of us like bloody violins. She had to have been planning this for weeks, sneaking around behind our backs, and we had no idea. I had no idea. I should feel manipulated, betrayed, used…" He paused to look at her, his eyes wide. "But then I look at you, and you’re the answer to all my prayers. And I can’t be mad. No matter how she did it, or the lies she told, the end result is that I get everything I wanted. How can I be mad at her for that?"

She was going to answer when he cut her off.

"How do you like your eggs?"

She was nonplussed at first, but then she realized what he was doing and gave him a wry smile. "William the Bloody, making breakfast. What will the demon underworld think of you now?"

He grabbed a pan and spatula, waving it threateningly. "You’d better not tell anyone or I’ll have to ki…"

The words caught in his throat, but she knew what he’d been about to say, and the pain on his face was too much for her to bear.

"I like omelets," she answered truthfully.

"I can do omelets."

"With cheese, and mushrooms and onions and…" She gave him a knowing smile. "Garlic."

He grinned at her, thankful for the jibe. "Sorry, pet. Don’t do garlic. Can’t stand the bloody stuff. If you want garlic, you’ll have to make your own bleedin’ omelet."

"I would, but I don’t think I could lift the pan right now," she admitted with a frown. "As it is, I’m barely standing."

He dropped the pan to the stove and whipped a chair out for her to sit.

"Then sit down for God’s sake. No need to put on an act for my sake," he said as she sat down. "Here, I’ll make you a cuppa."

As she sat, she watched him pour the boiling water from the stove into a French Press and strain the coffee grinds.

"How do you like your coffee?" he asked.

"Oh, umm… with cream and three sugars."

The cup was in front of her before she even finished the sentence.

"How are you feeling, by the way," he asked tenderly.

She took a sip of the coffee, surprised by how good it was. "Weak. Shaky. Confused as all Hell. I mean, technically I’ve come back from the dead before, but last time I was only dead for a few minutes, not… months."

"It’s understandable that you’d be… disoriented."

"Disoriented? Spike, I’m completely freaked. I’m still not sure this is all real or just a dream."

"If it’s a dream, please don’t wake me up. I really like it here," came the gentle reply.

She took another sip of her coffee and nodded. There were no real words to say to that, not if they were to keep the conversation light enough for them to handle. There would be other words, heavier words, later.

"So, all your pieces and parts in good working order? All your fingers and toes?" he questioned, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She shrugged. "Haven’t found anything that doesn’t work yet."

Her stomach took that moment to growl and they both laughed nervously. Spike turned to the refrigerator and began taking items out.

"One cheese, mushroom and onion omelet coming right up."

"I was joking about the garlic, you know."

"I know," he replied, fussing over the ingredients. "You want biscuits?"

"Sure."

He nodded that he had heard her and took more items from the fridge, whipping up a quick batter with flour, eggs and milk and putting the biscuits in the oven to bake.

Buffy sat, sipping her coffee and watching as Spike made breakfast in her kitchen. The entire scene was surreal and she watched with odd detachment as he deftly made his way about the room, chopping the onion and mushrooms, and sautéing the omelet ingredients in the pan. The dog barked to be let out and he opened the door without missing a beat, sidestepping just enough to stay out of the sunlight. Within a few minutes, she saw him skillfully flip the omelet over and catch it with the pan as if he’d been making omelets all his life and it was as natural to him as breathing. Then she remembered that vampires didn’t breathe.

"Mmmm, what’s that smell?" Willow’s sleepy voice asked as she shuffled in, rubbing her eyes. "Ooohhh, Spike’s making breakfast…"

"Hot water on the stove for your tea, luv, and biscuits in the oven," Spike called over his shoulder. "Want eggs?"

"Umm, yeah, thanks. The usual," Willow said, perking up as she sat next to Buffy. Spike made an acknowledging noise that he had heard her breakfast request but otherwise did not say anything more. "Good morning Buffy. Or should I say good afternoon?"

"Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me," she replied, drinking more of her coffee. "I take it Spike does the breakfast thing often?"

Willow shrugged. "Often enough. He makes great biscuits."

"And speaking of biscuits…" Spike interrupted, leaning around Buffy to place a plate with her omelet and two biscuits on it in front of her. "Breakfast is served. Eat up."

He refilled her coffee and brought ketchup, milk and sugar to the table.

"Who is he and what has he done with Spike?" Buffy asked in a mock whisper.

Willow giggled and shrugged again. "Dunno. He’s been like this since…"

"I can hear you, you know," Spike announced, scrambling eggs for Willow.

Buffy took a bite of her omelet and made appreciative noises. "God, this is good. Forget what I said about wondering what you’ve done with Spike. I’m keeping you."

"Glad to hear it. Did I mention that I spiced the eggs with strychnine?"

Buffy laughed. "Yeah, right. Watch it, Bleach Boy or I won’t dye your roots for you."

Spike spun around, spatula still in hand and shock on his face. "You’d…" he began but stopped as Giles entered the kitchen.

"Oh good, you made coffee," the Watcher said, pouring himself a cup.

"Yeah, French Roast," Spike answered.

Giles sniffed the mug and sighed. "Wonderful. Thank you, Spike."

"Eggs?"

"No thank you, but I’ll have some biscuits and jam."

"Fresh ones in the oven. Help yourself," the vampire said, returning to Willow’s eggs.

"Is Tara up?" Willow asked as Giles sat down.

"She got up to go to the bathroom. We should be seeing her in a minute. And I think I heard Xander and Anya moving about upstairs."

"Just as long as moving about is all they are doing," Buffy muttered, earning her a chuckle from Willow.

Annie barked and Spike served Willow her eggs, let the dog in, took the fresh biscuits out of the oven and put them on the table with the jam all in one fluid, impressive maneuver. Then he made himself a cup of hot chocolate and sat down across from Buffy while Willow and Giles grabbed for biscuits and fought good-naturedly over the jam. A few minutes later, Tara, Anya and Xander joined them in the kitchen.

"We smelled biscuits," Anya admitted.

"Fresh batch on the table," Spike announced, sitting back comfortably to watch as his biscuits were hastily consumed. Buffy thought she could see the pride dancing in his eyes.

"How’s Dawn?" Willow asked.

"She’s still sleeping," Tara answered. "I looked in on her a few moments ago."

"Are we sure she’s all right?" Spike questioned.

"I think so. I mean, physically she appears fine and I don’t think we have any reason to believe she’s anything but exhausted. At least not yet," Tara replied.

"Do we have any idea how she was able to cast such a- a powerful and complex spell?" Giles asked.

Tara shrugged. "I think we forget too easily that Dawn wasn’t always human. She may be a fifteen-year-old girl, but The Key is still inside of her. Who knows what she is capable of or what The Key knows. And it doesn’t help that the spell the monks cast programs us to think of Dawn as something that needs to be protected. I guess we really can’t be all that terribly surprised that she was able to do what she did. I’ve always Felt the power in her."

"Which brings us back to a question we’ve never answered. Is Dawn dangerous?" Giles commented.

"About as dangerous as any powerful witch," Willow answered. "We probably should try to train her. I mean, that would be okay now, right? Now that Glory is dead Dawn’s safe."

"Wait a minute. Glory is dead?" Buffy interrupted.

Six sets of eyes turned to her then nervously looked away.

"Buffy… Ben didn’t make it," Giles admitted softly.

They saw her sigh and her shoulders slump.

"I see. So I did kill him then."

"No!" Giles blurted. "No, you didn’t ah… kill him. He died because…"

"I killed him," Spike lied, his jaw tight, ignoring the surprised yet grateful glance from Giles.

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "You killed him?"

"Yeah. Glory was trying ta come back and I saw him fightin’ with her so I went over and snapped his neck."

"With The Chip in your head?" Buffy commented.

Spike shrugged. "I was already in so much pain already, what was a little searing migraine on top of everything else? Look, Slayer, as long as Ben lived, so did Glory. You made me promise to protect Dawn. I saw an opportunity to get rid of the one thing that was the biggest threat to the Nibblet, so I took it."

His expression dared her to challenge him and for a moment it looked like she was going to, but then her eyes lowered and she nodded.

"You’re right. As long as Ben lived, Glory was a threat to Dawn. I just couldn’t bring myself to kill him. Thank you for having the strength to do what needed to be done," she said, shocking them all.

"Yeah, well. You threw yourself off a bloody tower to save us all so I guess we’re even," the vampire begrudgingly admitted.

Buffy and Spike locked eyes across the table, each silently acknowledging that there was a great deal more that needed to be said, until Anya broke the tense silence.

"Would somebody pass the biscuits and jam, please?"

The afternoon passed in an air of tension and unguarded joy. The seven of them spent the hours getting reacquainted and deciding what was going to be done. Legally, Buffy was still dead, and there was a great deal that had to be done in order to reintegrate her back into the land of the living. Details were ironed out and plans made, all while they waited for Dawn to awaken.

Over the course of the hours, Buffy grew stronger and steadier in her body, and a quick test of her super powers proved that she still had Slayer abilities; a fact that both pleased and distressed her. Giles told her about Hope, the Slayer who was Called when Buffy died, and the story of her attack on Spike was relayed. After hearing how the Slayer had broken into the house and hurt Dawn, Buffy was fairly certain that she would like this Slayer about as much as she had liked Faith. No one threatened her family or those she cared about, Spike included.

The concept of caring about Spike sat better with her than she thought it would, but she chalked it up to being dead for three months. Being dead changed a person, and she ought to know since she’d been dead twice already. Somehow she was having a hard time reconciling her memory of Spike as a cold-blooded killer with the man who had made breakfast for all of them this morning. But being dead made you look at the world a little differently, so she figured that she shouldn’t really be all that surprised.

He was still keeping his distance, she noticed, but he watched her. Sometimes their eyes would meet and volumes were spoken in the brief looks. He was waiting. Waiting for the others to leave so they could have their talk, the one she knew was coming, the one she knew would involve a great deal more than just talking. It hung in the air between them and she found herself hyperaware of him, missing him when he wasn’t in the room. At one point, she noticed that he was no longer around and she went in search of him. She found him sitting on the back porch, smoking and playing with the dog. She sat next to him, just outside of his personal space, and waited to see if he would say anything. He didn’t, merely kept tossing a rag bone for Annie to fetch. It seemed to be a familiar game between the two. Spike would throw the rag bone clear across the yard, and Annie would gleefully run to retrieve it and drop it back in his lap.

"Does she ever get tired of that?" Buffy asked after she’d watched the dog return for the umpteenth time.

"No," Spike replied, taking another drag on his cigarette. "She’s the Energizer Bunny Dog."

Buffy laughed softly and Spike laughed with her. "It’s our thing, y’know? I come out here to smoke ‘coz I don’t smoke in the house, and she thinks she needs to keep me company. Makes her feel useful. Right, ya mangy mutt?"

"She’s not a mangy mutt," Buffy corrected, petting the dog on the head.

"No, she’s just a flea-bitten, pain in the arse."

"But Dawn loves her."

"Dawn adores her. And honestly, she’s good company for the Nibblet. No one can get within ten yards of her without Annie sounding the alarm. Caught more than one would be suitor trying to climb in the upstairs window that way," he told her.

"Would be suitors? Dawnie?"

Spike shrugged. "She’s growin’ up, pet."

Buffy snorted angrily. "She’s fifteen."

"And you were dating Angel at sixteen," he argued. "She’s not a child anymore and the more we try to treat her like one, the more she’ll rebel against us. There comes a point where you have to just trust ‘em and let ‘em go."

"Oh what do you know about raising teenage girls?"

"A hell of a lot more than you think I do," he snapped back defensively. "I’ve done a damn good job with Dawn these past three months. Just ask anybody. I’ve done right by her, I have. I get her up in the morning, make her breakfast, see her off to school. I keep house, I cook dinner, I help her with her homework. This country’s education system rots, by the way, it’s amazing any of you ever learned how to read. I do all of this, and Slay, and fend off nosy wankers from Child Services lookin’ to prove that I’m an unfit guardian just because a young, single male takin’ care of a teenage girl doesn’t jive with their family values. They think I’m tryin’ ta rob the bloody cradle with her. It’s disgusting."

He stood up and began to pace nervously.

"Spike…" she tried but he talked right over her.

"And I gotta invite them into the house and listen to them prattle on while they go over everything with white gloves and poke their noses where they don’t bloody belong."

"Spike…"

"And they’re always askin’ Dawn these leadin’, sideways questions, tryin’ ta dig up dirt on us so’s they can take her away. And I wish I had this soddin’ Chip outta my head so I could just bloody KILL them! But no, I have to be nice and ‘would you like some tea’ and ‘oh yes, I help Dawn with her homework every night’ and ‘oh, no. No lady friends ever spend the night.’ Not that I’ve had any lady friends I could ask to spend the night for the last three months. And you’d think, after us answering the same damn questions for the hundredth time, they’d shut the fuck up and go the fuck away! Stupid, bloody bitches!"

Annie whined and ran under the porch, cowering, as Spike struggled for control, his hands clenching and unclenching. Buffy blinked up at him.

"Overreact much?" she commented.

"You think I’m overreacting?" he sniped. "You try doing what I’ve been doing for the last three months, and putting up with the crap I’ve had to put up with. It got so bad, Giles went and spoke for me to the Court in order to get them to back off."

She gave him a wounded look and it made him feel like scum. Bowing his head, he turned away and lit another cigarette.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. If I could have been here, I would have. And for what it’s worth, you have done a wonderful job taking care of Dawn. I couldn’t have asked for a better, more devoted caretaker."

Spike shuffled his feet and blushed as much as a vampire could. "Yeah, well, Nibblet’s worth it."

"And you made me a promise."

Spike nodded. "So I did. Couldn’t have me breakin’ a promise, now could I? I’ve got my reputation to consider, y’know."

She smiled. "Oh yeah, right, as if you always uphold your end of a deal."

"Well, I do! Every deal I ever made with you, I made good on my end."

"And this was why I saw you back in Sunnydale after you promised to take Drucilla out of the country for good."

"And I did. I took her to Brazil where, as you bloody well know, she dumped me for a chaos demon. And I never promised not to come ba ck, I said that I bloody well hoped you’d never see us again," he insisted.

"A technicality."

"True, but one that works for me," he replied with a cocky smile.

Buffy’s answer was cut off by Xander opening the back door and looking out onto the porch.

"Oh there you guys are. We were wondering where’d you’d gone."

"Is everything okay? Is Dawn awake?" Buffy asked.

"Everything’s fine and no, Dawn’s still asleep. We were just going to order pizza for dinner, and we wanted to know if you had any requests."

Buffy winked at Spike. "Garlic. I want lots of garlic."

Xander smiled. "I’ll tell the chef to make sure he goes heavy on the garlic."

"Thanks, Xander," she said as he went back into the house. When the door closed, she turned to Spike. "We should go back in."

Spike nodded and finished his cigarette, crushing the butt under his heel, then followed her into the kitchen.

Ten o’clock came and went and still Dawn did not wake. Willow and Tara checked her carefully and determined that there was no need to panic just yet, and that Dawn would probably wake up in the morning. After it was fairly obvious that Dawn wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon, people began taking their leave.

Anya and Xander were the first to go, followed by Willow and Tara. Giles offered to stay the night again, but Buffy assured him that she and Spike would be fine. She was anxious to be alone with him, in fact, but she didn’t tell Giles that. She as fairly certain the Watcher knew, however, because he gave her a concerned/fatherly look before going out the door.

"Are you certain you know what you’re doing?" he had asked quietly.

"No, but it’s okay, Giles. Whatever happens, we’ll work it out."

He had leaned close. "We should tell Angel…"

She had put up a hand to stop him. "Not yet. Let me get things settled here first. I can’t face Angel until I get myself sorted out."

Giles had nodded in understanding, then smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "I know I should be terribly angry with Dawn for what she did, but I…"

"But you look at me and you just can’t be."

"Exactly."

"Spike said the same thing to me. I think I understand."

"Yes, well. I’ll be going. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

She had watched him as he walked to his car and waited until he had driven away before closing the door. Then she took a deep breath, steeled her resolve and went in search of Spike. He was in the kitchen, washing dishes. The scene was about as surreal as watching him cook breakfast earlier that day, but she stopped to watch him while she got her head in order.

She’d always thought him handsome, in a dangerous, bad-boy kind of way. He was so comfortable with himself and his body, yet he possessed an almost child-like insecurity that he tried to hide behind the Big Bad attitude. She’d seen it though, when he’d let her in, when he’d dropped the mask of indifference and confrontation long enough to show her his feelings. Usually she had taken those rare and tender moments, and stomped all over him. She felt bad about it now. No matter what happened between them, and she had a pretty good idea as to what was going to happen- at least physically- she knew it would be all right. Spike had depths she hadn’t even begun to explore, uncharted canyons that lay deep beneath the surface waiting for her to discover them. Part of her was shocked at her desire to discover them, at the almost magnetic attraction that she had been feelingtowards him since she had awakened to see him guarding Dawn. The memory was fresh and vivid in her mind, and defined the essence of her change of heart towards him.

He had placed her sister behind him, her prone body almost completely obscured by his crouching form. He’d been like a jungle cat protecting its cub, all strength and sinewy grace, ready to attack at any moment, ready to do whatever needed to be done, ready to protect Dawn with his life. His eyes had been intense, burning, yet full of such desperate heartbreak. It had touched the deepest part of her soul and settled there like a seed waiting to bloom. Then she realized that the seed had been planted long ago, when he had come to them for help and in turn had started helping them. When he had taken Dawn under his wing and guarded her family. When he had given her everything he had and taken the worst beating of his unlife at Glory’s hands. When he had stood beside her and fought against gods and demons and himself, and never faltered. When he had kept his promise to her even after her death.

Spike had proved himself time and time again. Yes, they fought. Yes, there was tension and anger and even hatred between them, but the truth was, when the chips were down and all the cards were on the table, there was no doubt as to whose side he was on. Now it was time to acknowledge the gifts he had given and the sacrifices he had made. In the light of all he had done, the small sacrifice of her pride seemed a small and paltry thing.

She approached him quietly, coming to stand directly beside him at the sink. She saw the jolt go through his body as he suppressed the impulse to move away, but did not acknowledge it. Instead she picked up a dishtowel and began drying the washed dishes. They worked in silence until the last fork was dried and put away. Then she draped the damp towel over the dish rack and placed her hand on his forearm. He shuddered at her touch and she felt a pang go through her.

"Spike."

She saw him swallow, saw him close his eyes as his hands curled into fists. He was trembling ever so slightly, and she could feel the tiny quivers of his muscles as he struggled for control.

Very deliberately, she ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder, rubbing along the top and the back of his neck, tsking at the tension she felt there.

"You’re all tense."

"Buffy, I…"

"Shhhhh," she soothed and coaxed him away from the sink. "Let’s go sit down."

Leading him to the living room, she watched him from the corner of her eye. He was wooden, following obediently as if he had no will of his own. In that moment, she knew what she was going to do. She would give herself to him, let him take whatever he needed from her and her body. She had hoped to lead up to it, to make it a slow seduction, but he was too far gone for that. From his earlier statements, she had deduced that he had been completely without for at least three months, and probably longer than that since she hadn’t seen any evidence of Harmony since the night Drucilla had returned. The lack of release compiled with her sudden return from the dead had to be driving him insane. She knew what it felt like to be so close to someone she loved and yet not be able to touch him. The fact that Spike hadn’t jumped all over her after Giles had left was a testament to his control and willpower. She hoped he would let her reward him for his efforts.

She guided him to the couch and they sat down. He placed himself away from her, his hands pressed between his knees, and she had to smile. His attempts to remain chaste were so endearing, and so unnecessary, but they served to make her decision easier. Seeing him there, his head bowed, his hands clasped nervously between his knees, touched all the tender places in her heart, and she reached out to place her hand on his leg.

"Spike."

He looked at her, his eyes wide and wary, with no small amount of fear in them, and his trembling became more pronounced. She saw him lick his lips.

"Buffy…"

She picked up one of his hands and brought it to her face, cupping her cheek into his palm.

"You have my permission to touch me," she encouraged.

The trembling graduated to shivering and she saw his nostrils flare.

"We should probably talk," he tried, and she was impressed by how steady his voice was.

"We should," she agreed. "But I don’t want to talk right now, Spike." She took his hand and placed it, palm down, firmly on her breast. "I want to dance."

His eyes cracked and she felt his control snap like a tightly coiled spring, and then he was on her, his lips and hands everywhere at once, his body crushing her to the cushions of the couch as he growled and whimpered.

The first time was quick, but she had expected that. He was too needy and desperate for anything else. Still, even in his frenzy, he didn’t hurt her, and even managed to please her. It helped that she was almost as desperate for him as he was for her, and their joining was the fulfillment of an aching need to reconnect. What she hadn’t expected were the tears that streamed down his face as he rode her, making her wonder if she was causing him more pain than pleasure, or the harsh, wracking sobs that came afterwards when he clutched her to his chest and wept.

The second time was much, much better. He carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed. Loving her slowly, he mapped her body with his hands and mouth, proving to her that he was the most skilled and considerate lover that she had ever had. He made her body sing with pleasure, and took her to new heights of ecstasy that made her burn for him as she had burned for no other. He quenched her need, giving her everything he had to offer, and pleasuring her completely before taking his own.

Afterwards, sated and blissfully worn out, they cuddled under the blankets, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his nose in her hair while his whole body vibrated with the purr vampires made when they were content.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered, licking her ear. "I love you so much."

She shifted and felt him stiffen, as if he was preparing for a blow, and the purr stopped.

"Spike, I…"

His fingers covered her lips. "Shhhh, pet. I know."

She took his hand and removed it from her mouth, looking up at him.

"No. Let me finish," she insisted.

Even in the darkness she could see the ‘oh please don’t kick me’ expression on his face, and it made her smile tenderly at him. She stroked his cheek reassuringly.

"I don’t know if I can love you, Spike. At least not the way you love me. Every time I’ve tried, it’s ended badly. But you know that. This… this sex thing, this lust thing, it’s easy for me. It’s the love thing that’s hard. But I’m willing to give it another try… with you. I can’t make any promises that it’ll be the way you want it to be, but I can promise to make an effort."

She paused as she felt him relax, settling back down and nuzzling her hair. She made a mental note that scent seemed to be a big trigger with him.

"I’ll take whatever you can give me, luv," he sighed.

"You shouldn’t have to settle. You deserve someone who can give you all of herself as much as you give all of yourself."

"You already give me everything I need, luv," he assured as the purr started up again.

"What? A good beating and a shag?" she countered, unable to keep all of her irritation out of her voice, but he seemed to know that her ire wasn’t really directed at him.

"All that and more, baby," he replied, lifting up to look at her, a cocky smile on his lips. "We’re a good match, you and me. Got enough stones for each other, not afraid to piss each other off. I’m strong enough to take all of you even on your worst days, and with no pesky curse loomin’ over my head. I got enough darkness inside of me to feed your Bad Boy craving, and enough light to make you not want to kill me."

"I wouldn’t say that," she teased.

He chuckled and kissed her, then his face grew serious. "You don’t have to hide with me, or lie about your ‘secret life.’ We’re equals and I know all about you, even the dark parts, so you won’t have to hold back when we fight or when we shag. I know your strengths and your weaknesses, and how to use both to their best benefit." His voice grew deep and husky. "And I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. More than Cecile, more than Dru. I adore you. I worship you. You’re my sun in the morning and my moon at night. You’re my beginning and my ending. You’re my everything. You’re my whole bloody universe."

"Oh Spike…" she breathed as tears welled in her eyes.

"And I can wait until your heart’s healed enough to open again. Until you know in your soul that I love you and I will never leave you, that you can trust me with anything and everything until the end of the world. In the meantime, I can love you enough for both of us."

"Spike…"

Her answer was cut off as he kissed her and covered her with his body. And soon words were unnecessary and moot as he proved to her that third times really were charms.

She woke to the sound of Spike’s purr rumbling under her ear, and found her head pressed to his chest with his arms around her.

"Mornin’, pet," came his tender voice as a hand stroked her hair.

"Mmmm, morning," she replied sleepily, snuggling close. "You’re still purring."

"Can’t help it, luv. I purr when I’m happy."

She smiled and stroked his chest. "And I gave you a happy."

"Biggest happy of my unlife."

She laughed softly and lifted up to kiss him. He was in demon-face, and his yellow eyes looked back at her until his features melted into his human ones. Their kiss started sweet but quickly turned passionate.

"Mmmmmm. Care to go another round before we have to face the world, eh pet?" he suggested with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

She punched him lightly. "Insatiable."

"Yeah. Just like you and you love it."

"True," she admitted as she climbed on top of him and kissed him deep.

When they woke up again, it was well after sunrise and the clock read 10:44. Thankfully, they had remembered to close the blinds and curtains before they went to sleep. Buffy stretched and yawned as she sat up.

"Yuck, I’ve got sweaters on my teeth," she complained.

"Want me to lick them off, pet?"

"Eww. No thanks. I have to go to the bathroom anyway."

"I don’t have that problem."

"Consider it a perk."

"I do."

He watched her from the bed, leaning on one elbow, his eyes dancing with love and mirth as she threw on a set of sweats. He pouted when she pulled on the sweatpants.

"It should be a crime to cover that gorgeous body," he commented.

"The world is not ready to see me naked."

"I should damn well hope so! I’m the only one who should be seeing you naked from now on, pet."

She gave him a sideways look. "You’re not gonna go all possessive and Cave-vamp on me now, are you?"

"Nah, I’ll let you out of the house occasionally. After dark. Dressed in baggy clothes that cover you up from your ankles to your chin," he quipped with a grin.

"I dunno if I like your attitude, Bleach Boy," she smirked.

"Ooo, catty. Well, baby, if you don’t like my attitude, why don’t you come over here and do something about it?" he cooed as he licked his lips and gave her a leer.

He saw her shudder and thought he had her, but then she put a hand on the doorknob.

"I am going to the bathroom," she announced.

"Spoilsport," he grumped and rolled to his back.

"I’ll be back before you can miss me," she assured, slipping out.

"Too late," he whispered but he didn’t think she heard him.

He was staring at the bedroom ceiling when a timid knock rapped on the closed door.

"Spike?" Dawn’s voice asked; it was all the warning he had before the bedroom door cracked open.

"Nibblet?" he said, surprised.

"Can I come in?" Dawn replied.

"Uhhh… give us a sec…" he answered, scrambling to cover himself with the blankets since his clothes were strewn downstairs on the living room floor. "Okay."

The door opened further and Dawn’s head appeared, followed by the rest of her.

"About time you woke up. You’ve been sleeping for over twenty-four hours. Had us all worried, you did," he told her.

Dawn didn’t answer right away, and she kept her eyes down as she stood by the doorway, looking lost.

"I’m sorry," she whispered faintly.

"Nibblet? What’s wrong?" he asked, concerned by her downtrodden expression.

"Do you hate me?"

"Hate you? God, no! I could never hate you, Lil’ Bit."

"But I lied to you and disobeyed…"

"Oh Little One," he breathed. He moved to go to her, then thought the better of it, opening his arms to her instead. "Come here."

With a sob, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms. He pulled her onto the bed with him, heedless of his naked chest, and tucked her head under his chin so he could rock her.

"I love you. You know that, right? I’ll always love you. You’re my Nibblet. Nothing you could ever do would ever make me stop loving you."

"I didn’t want to lie, but I knew if you knew what I was going to do, you’d try to stop me, and I just couldn’t let you. I had to do it. I had to."

"Shhh, I understand. I know why you did what you did even if I don’t agree with it."

Dawn pulled back to look at him. "But I did it, didn’t I? I brought her back."

The smile he gave her outshined the sun. "Yeah, Little One, you did. You surely did."

She beamed back at him, then frowned, dropping her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

"Are you naked under there?"

"Ummm…"

"Dawn," Buffy’s voice interrupted.

Dawn whirled in Spike’s arms and faced her sister.

"Buffy!"

In heartbeats, Buffy joined them, her arms around Dawn as the sisters cried tears of relief and joy.

"Oh God Buffy. We missed you, we missed you so much!" Dawn sobbed. "I had to bring you back! I just had to. You understand, don’t you?"

Buffy looked seriously at her. "I understand. But what you did, Dawn, was very dangerous. If your spell had gone wrong…"

"But it wouldn’t have! I knew what I was doing, I mean, The Key knew what it was doing and I used it. I can use it. It’s part of me."

"We kinda figured that out," Buffy admitted.

"Are you mad at me?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, I’m not mad, but I am a little freaked out," she said, sitting on the bed. Spike put his arm around her so Dawn was held between them both. "Actually, I’m a lot freaked out, but I’m getting better." She gave Spike a fond look and patted his hand. Spike smiled dreamily at her.

Dawn looked from Buffy to Spike then back to Buffy. "So, I guess you guys worked out your… umm… differences?"

Buffy blushed furiously, but Spike just grinned. "You could say that."

"That’s cool. I was kinda worried there for a minute when you weren’t in the basement."

"No need to worry about me, luv. Big Bad can take care of himself. You know that," Spike said softly.

"I know. I just… wasn’t sure how you’d react."

Spike pulled them both a little closer, tucking Buffy in against his side. "Oh, I think I handled it pretty well, don’t you, pet?" he replied, looking fondly at Buffy.

"Better than I would have," Buffy answered.

"No. You’re stronger than you think you are. You’re stronger than all of us. You just won’t admit it to yourself," he cajoled, then kissed her temple. "I love you, Buffy."

Buffy didn’t answer with words. Instead she gave a little sigh and entwined her fingers with his. Dawn looked at their joined hands and smiled.

"Does this mean you’re not gonna make him move out?"

Buffy laughed. "Umm, no. I think Spike will be staying."

Dawn grinned. "I’m glad. I mean, I really like having him around. He makes a mean breakfast."

"So I’ve learned."

"And he’s great at helping me with my schoolwork."

"Ahh, speaking of schoolwork," Spike interjected. "In light of your recent use of Big Mojo, Willow and Tara have decided to teach you witchcraft."

Dawn gave him a shocked look. "They have?"

"It was decided that it would be better if you had some formal training instead of your trying to learn things all by yourself," Buffy explained. "Giles offered to help too."

"Wow, awesome!"

"In fact, we should probably get dressed and call them. We promised to let them know when you were awake, and they’re probably sitting by the phone," Spike said.

"After breakfast?" the teen asked hopefully.

"After breakfast," Spike agreed.

"Biscuits?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Biscuits. Now out with you so I can get up."

"I’ll go let Annie out and feed her," Dawn offered, hopping off the bed.

Buffy gave him a quick kiss. "And I’ll bring you some clothes."

"Clean ones are in the basement," he told her, stealing another kiss. "Gonna take a shower."

"Okay, I’ll bring them to the bathroom," she said, moving to get off the bed.

Spike stopped her and looked seriously at her. "Have you given any thought as to what you’re going to do?"

"About what?"

"About life? About Slaying?"

"Right now I’m going to take some time getting used to being alive again. After that, I might go back to school, or get a job. As for Slaying… I’m sure I’ll take it up again eventually, Sworn Duty and Sacred Calling and all, but I think I’ll let Hope take care of it for now. I’ve got better things to do."

She smiled and kissed him, then slipped out of his grasp, leaving the bedroom to go get him his clothes. He stayed on the bed for a few moments, knowing that he was grinning like a fool, but not caring.

"That you do, luv. That you do."