Mother (Chapter 16 of Don't Stop the Dance)

Spike returns to Revello drive only when he’s abso-fucking-lutely sure that no living thing is stirring. He is carrying the weight of his anger on a thin film of relief and quasi-gratitude and God help the person that crosses his path.

The bitter words are bouncing around in his head, ricocheting off the shards of memories that now come freely as he makes his way silently through the house and down into the basement, grateful not to have encountered anyone inside. Glad, that he didn’t have to speak to anyone, that he didn’t have to see her.

In the quiet of the darkened basement, he sags lifelessly onto the cot, letting out an exaggerated breath, and swings his feet up to lie down, staring at the ceiling. He breathes in and out evenly, willing the anger to subside. It’s giving him a headache, and he is already in a lot of pain.

Or maybe it’s that he’s fighting the inevitable, maybe that’s what causing the pain behind his eyes. He closes them and lets it come.

Puzzle-piece-shaped memories now assemble in his mind completing pictures of people and times that he’d long forgotten.

He remembers with complete clarity the first time he’d seen Cecily. He’d thought her radiant, transcendent and so heavenly unattainable, which made her more attractive to him. He had felt so unworthy of her yet convinced that, through her, he could be the man he always wanted to be: accepted and loved. He attributed nearly every joy that could never attain to her, as if she alone held the power to grant true happiness to him.

He remembers approaching her with his card, asking if he could speak with her. It had all been so very proper and so very gentlemanly, but she stared at him as if he’d offered to pleasure her right in the front parlor. How dare he sully her with his very presence. And later…those words…words repeated to him even more recently by another.

Who are these women that they can so consume him? Well, to be honest with, William wasn’t very much to consume. He was a wonderful son, but an incredibly poor excuse for a man. Yes he was a good man, whatever that was worth. It hadn’t been worth much to Cecily.

Cecily: his porcelain goddess. His Venus. His muse. His…

He wonders if she ever really existed, or if it was simply his idea of the perfect woman projected onto the cruel, heartless bitch that was the real thing. All she truly ever expressed for him was disdain. All of the niceties he’d remembered of her had been in his imagination.

I was too...soft, too open...for her. She was hardened already and my optimism, my desire for love and joy and beauty only sickened her because she was already dead to it.

Again Spike recalls those words: You’re beneath me. But someone else is speaking them now.

Cecily hated herself, her world and her circle of friends. She was miserable and so she’d made him miserable (and probably others as well.) Buffy clearly hated herself last year. She resented her circle of friends for bringing her back. She was miserable and she’d used him to feel…something…anything. And then what had she said?

Well, at least she had the decency to admit it. Spike can’t imagine any admission of guilt coming from Cecily’s holy mouth.

He doesn’t like the idea of comparing Buffy to Cecily, but the resemblances are there. Two women, unwilling to love, one from incapacity, one from having endured so much that she felt dead inside.

Spike opens his eyes and stares at the pipes on the ceiling. They’re new. Newer than the house. He remembers Buffy having to replace them. Remembers her annoyance at his suggestion to help. He remembers the glimmer of recognition, in her eyes, of the person inside him when he’d offered his assistance. The look she gave him before she quickly threw up the walls between them once more.

No, not like Cecily.

He remembers the first time he’d set eyes upon Drusilla. Such darkness he’d never seen before: a gothic beauty. She sang out to him with her knowing smile and captured him with her eyes. He was lost to her in an instant and any love he’d ever had for Cecily was quickly burned away by Drusilla’s dark flame and the promise of an end to his suffering...his humiliation. The promise of being deflowered by the lust of the world was too enticing to turn away from. He invited her in willingly.

He remembers her...gift...and the first time that he’d opened his new, vampire eyes and looked into the night. Oh, how it glittered! It left him quivering in her arms, he was so overwhelmed. Every sense heightened, piqued, teased. He had been so blind to it all! But Dru gave him the world as it truly was meant to be seen.

His rapture had been shattered abruptly by Angelus, of course. And Spike recalls his first encounters with his grand-sire. How cold and cruel he was, yet how animated in his cruelty. He’d enjoyed torturing young William mentally, and later physically, reveling in the rape of his mind and his body: both acts equally bloody and merciless.

Angelus could jump head first into a lake of human suffering and backstroke to shore with an easy smile on his face. And William envied him.

William had given his unbeating heart to Drusilla and Angelus had sliced it up and served it right back to him piece by piece: blood dripping from his malicious grin. He has cursed William for being ‘too human.’ And William was ashamed.

Too human for Angelus and our lil’ family, not enough of a man for anyone else.

Spike’s eyes open to the ceiling. He slowly becomes aware of the pain of his bruises and lightly touches his face where Wood had been pummeling him. The wounds are healing already and the itchy skin around them is singing with pain.

He can still hear the strains of his mother’s song in his ears and he allows himself to remember her now. How she loved him...really loved him, like none other since. The guilt at having loved her too much to let her go echoes in his chest, a dim memory. He had thought it such a gift, the immortality, but it had taken away the very thing he’d sought to preserve. Her.

He’d killed her. Twice. But she’d forgiven him. Had he forgiven himself? Clearly not.

He’s punished himself by placing the women in his life above him, as he did her. He sees, now, how he’s been searching for her in every woman he’d come to love. Searching for that complete and total acceptance of everything that he is and was. What he really needed to do was accept himself. To become his own man. To stop being love’s bitch.

But it’s easier said than done. Wood can attest to that, surely. It’s probably been easier for him to turn all of his hurt into anger and seek vengeance on the one that had taken what had never really been his to begin with: his mother. Nikki the Slayer. Because, with the Slayer, it all comes down to the Mission. Everything and everyone else is secondary. Spike had realized this at the same moment the words left his mouth back at the workroom. Ah, the irony of it. He’d been taken there to die and he’d left feeling more alive than he had in decades.

He sits up and shrugs out of the duster. Pulling off his boots, he places them on the floor next to the cot. He removes a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his coat and lights one up, leaning his back against the cold concrete of the wall.

He closes his eyes and pushes the memories away for now. He is exhausted and he is...afraid. Of seeing her. Of knowing, definitively, her part in the plan.

His soul says: No, she didn’t have anything to do with it. Look at the way she came to your aid. She cares for you. Things are different now.

His head says: You’re a fool.

He senses her before he hears her. Hears her before he sees her. Smells her fear before she enters the room.

----------------

Buffy knows he’s home...well...back. She hesitates to go down there. There’s no way of telling what he’s thinking or feeling. Whether he blames her at all for what’s transpired.

She thinks that if he’d wanted to see her, he would have come upstairs, but she knows he wouldn’t have. And he was so quiet when he returned that she didn’t hear him so much as feel him.

“What can I possibly say to him?” she asks aloud.

Her eyes close tightly and her face becomes a mask of pain and resignation as the night’s events flicker in her minds’ eye.

Her breathing is erratic and she makes a concerted effort to calm herself down. Wearing out her threadbare carpet by pacing back and forth isn’t helping, so she sits on the bed, mindlessly tapping her foot.

I can’t even trust him to be around us anymore. Who’s to say he won’t try it again or that he won’t come up with some other ‘solution’ for my supposed shortcomings?

She jumps back up again and resumes pacing. Finally, she makes the decision to go downstairs, turns and opens the door quickly before her fear can hold her back.

Just...it was the look that he had on his face when she found him in front of Robin’s. It made her the anxious. It’s a look she hadn’t seen for a long time and doesn’t want to see it again, not directed at her.

He was angry, yes, but it was more. Much more. The air around him screamed danger. So is he dangerous now? Isn’t that what she’d asked him to be?

That’s all she can think as she tiptoes down the steps with deceptive speed and reaches for the basement door. She smells the cigarette smoke.

“Well, at least he isn’t punching the walls,” she attempts to assuage her fear. “And he’s here...not...gone.” The hair on her arms is standing upright as she opens the door. Her steps are hesitant and silent as she descends into the black.

She stops a moment at the bottom to give her senses time to adjust. The muted orange glow of his cigarette tells her where he is, but she could close her eyes and almost picture him sitting on the cot, propped up against the wall, hair mussed, shirt off maybe, his arm resting on the one bent knee as he slowly brings the cigarette to his lips.

“Something you need, pet?” His words cause her to jump a little, and she’s glad there’s no light there. There’s a tightness in his voice which tells her that this will not be easy.

“I...just wanted-” she stammers.

“-to finish the job?” He says it, but there’s no fire in his words. He knows, really, that she had nothing to do with the attempt on his unlife. He isn’t even sure why he says it. He’s angry still, yeah. Angry and disgusted. He could battle a warrior. He couldn’t stand a coward.

“No!” Her voice is a little too loud. She moves closer to him, able to make out his outline against the white wall, illuminated by the tiny bit of light coming from the high window. “No.” She continues softly. “I wanted to make sure...that you...were...ok.”

He peers at her through the darkness, the cigarette forgotten. Why am I doing this to her? I know she didn’t-

“I didn’t know, Spike” she says softly but firmly, moving towards him. When she reaches the cot, he moves his legs and she sits on the edge.

“I know, luv.” He reassures her, relaxing a little if only to relax her. She sighs audibly. Spike takes one final drag on the cigarette and stubs it out in a makeshift ashtray at his side. “Let me guess,” he says, exhaling with a grunt. “Principal knew that you were with Giles and he thought he’d take advantage o’ the situation, right?” He reaches over and turns on a small lamp. When she doesn’t answer he turns his head to study her face for the reason.

Buffy realizes that Spike doesn’t know that Giles had anything to do with it. She doesn’t know whether to tell him, but in her silence she has said it already.

“Ahhh. He...knew.” His voice is low, too low, and his leans back against the wall. Her heart begins to race, and he hears it. Buffy expects him to explode, but instead he begins to laugh. It’s breathy and mirthless.

“So...” he says thoughtfully, elongating the word. “The Watcher has more of the Ripper left in ‘im than I gave ‘im credit for, eh?” He laughs softly, shaking his head.

“He betrayed you, Spike, I don’t think it’s funny.” She says, incensed.

“Oh no, pet,” his words are deliberately slow as he looks at her. “He didn’t betray me. There’s no love between us.” The light from the tiny lamp hits Spike just across his cheekbone. Buffy bristles at the calm menace in his gaze.

Buffy runs her hands through her hair and thinks on that. “You’re right, it’s me that he betrayed.”

Spike tilts his head sideways, eyebrow crinkling in confusion. “How’s that, luv?”

“How is that? He conspired to kill you, Spike. You.” She points at him, waiting for his understanding to click in.

“Uh yeah, pet, I was there.” He grunts and flicks an invisible piece of offending lint from the blanket with a little too much ardor.

She pulls her legs up onto the cot and sits facing him. “He lied to me. He took me to the cemetery and started spouting off about my duty and sacrifice.” She gazes into the cinderblocks of the wall for a way to organize her thoughts. Spike softens as he watches her.

“He...he kept asking me about Dawn.” She resumes, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. Spike’s jaw clenches at the implication of those words. He studies her. “Asking me if I’d be willing to let her go to save the world. Said I need to be a ‘general’ and lead the troops.

“I didn’t understand why we were going through that again, Spike, I mean...we’d had that conversation so many times. It didn’t click, y’know?” She looks at him and he shakes his head slowly.

“I didn’t understand why we were out there. And then a vamp rose and he told me to take my time killing it, all the time blabbing on and on about making difficult choices.” She looks down at her fingers and pauses for so long that Spike isn’t sure if she’ll finish. “That’s when it hit me.”

She looks up at him. He stares into her and he can see it: rage. She is seething beneath the calm exterior and the fear that he’d felt when she’d entered the room was of him, that he’d think she was part of it.

“Buffy...don’t be too hard on ‘im.” His words are plain but she waits a moment to see if anything follows. Something must be following such an idiotic statement as that.

“Excuse me?” She glares at him, her mouth held open in incredulity.

“He was trying to do the right thing. I ‘aven’t been the safest thing to ‘ave around ‘ere lately.” He drops his eyes back to the blanket, picking at it.

“You-“ she’s searching for the words to tell him how wrong he is. She swallows hard and tries a different approach.

“Spike...you were in trouble. Real trouble. The First has had you by the balls since you got back into town. It was using you. It’s been using all of us, but you most of all. That tells me something.”

“What’s that, luv?”

“That it’s scared of you.”

Spikes laughs out loud. “Oh c’mon, luv, don’t oversimplify.”

“I'm not!“ she retorts. “Think about it.” He regards her briefly and realizes she’s serious. He nods for her to continue, mostly out of curiosity, but more out of longing. He loves talking with her when she reveals how her mind works. She never used to, not before...

“Why torture you? Why not just kill you, huh?” She waits.

He shrugs. “Stupidity? Boredom?”

She suppresses a smile. “No, Spike, it’s because you are a threat. You have something it’s afraid of. You said that it kept appearing to you as...as-”

“As you-“ he finishes for her.

“So why would it do that?”

“It was the ultimate torture, pet.” He catches her eyes and holds her there for a moment. “It knew that you were the only thing that mattered to me.” Buffy fights to ignore the butterflies flapping in her stomach.

“It used my...image...my voice to try to break you mentally.” He nods.

“And it used the Ubie to try and break you physically.”

“Don’ know about that.” He looks down. “It only ever hurt me enough to make me weak...and then-”

“And then the real fun began.” She whispers, shuddering. He briefly places his hand on her leg, his thumb idly caressing her skin through the cloth.

“Yeah.” He removes his hand and decides to leave it at that. But she continues.

“What did it want from you?” Her voice has become soft again; it sends pleasurable chills down his spine.

Spike looked away from her for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “It wanted to me believe that you wouldn’t come.”

“That I would leave you there?” He nods. “What does that tell you?”

“That it wants me on its’ side?”

“Maybe.”

“Or that it wants us apart.” He looks up at her again and their eyes meet in understanding.

“You’re my strongest ally, Spike, my best warrior. You’ve become the one I trust the most.” She pauses, looking directly into his eyes. He waits for her to continue, not wanting to interrupt this most-unexpected confession of need. “Giles almost destroyed us,” she says softly. “All of us.”

“Why do you place so much importance on me, pet?” His question is honest. She wants to be annoyed, but his expression is so sincere.

He doesn’t understand. You’re beneath me, Spike. I’ll never be your girl.

“Spike, I didn’t. The First did. And if Giles weren’t so blinded by his Watcher’s glasses, he would see that.” He offers her a small smile. She merely looks back down. “I told him that he’s taught me everything that he can. I don’t need him anymore.”

“Yes you do, luv.” She glares up at him.

“For what? I can’t even trust him.” Spike takes her hand and squeezes it. She’s so warm. It startles him every time, her heat.

“He loves you, Buffy. He knows what insurmountable odds you’re up against-“

“We.” She corrects him. “We’re up against the crazy odds.” He nods, acquiescing.

“Ok, we. We’re up against something so powerful that we don’ even know what it bleedin’ is, Buff. Giles doesn’t know what to do, so he does what he does best. He does what’s sensible. He removes obvious dangers.”

“So is Willow next?” Her expression doesn’t change. He’s a little thrown by how valid a point she has.

“I don’ know what to say to that.”

“There’s nothing to say. We’re all walking on the edge here, Spike. We’re all battling our inner demons. It isn’t for him to decide who is too dangerous. I'm the Slayer. That’s my job. And I don’t have time for personal vendettas and revenge.” He really smiles at her this time and she is taken aback at his brightness and warmth.

“What?” she asks.

“You.” He closes his mouth, but the smile remains. “You’re bloody amazing. Jus’ when I think-“ He lets go of her hand and withdraws from her, suddenly uncomfortable.

“What…Spike?” She leans forward to touch his hand, understanding his hesitation as a learned behavior. “Tell me.” He looks at her big green eyes and cannot help but take her face in his hand, cupping her cheek. Her skin is soft and so warm it seems to melt into his palm. Buffy feels the tingle from his touch travel through her body and down to her very center. She closes her eyes for a moment as her breath hitches.

“You’re the Slayer.” His vice is full of warmth and love. She gives him a ‘duh’ look and he laughs silently. “What I mean is...when I first met you, you were so uneasy in your role as the Slayer, even though you were the strongest I’d ever seen. And over the years, I’ve watched you grow into it and thought ‘yeah, she’s the Slayer now.’ And then you’d grow a little more and I’d say ‘no no no, now she’s the Slayer.’”

She smiles again, instinctively leaning into his touch a little more. “And now?” Her heart is full of careful hope. She wants him to understand what she’s feeling. She wants him to open up again.

His hand, however, drops from her face after a final caress and he studies her for a moment. “Now you’re the Slayer. The Slayer of all slayers.” She shrugs and looks away to cover the look of disappointment at the loss of contact.

“Maybe.”

“No, no maybes. You’re It. And you’re going to save the world - again.”

She turns her head back to him. “You have so much faith in me, Spike.”

“And you have so little.” They both laugh softly. “Now Giles-”

She groans, he tilts his head down to catch her eyes. “Giles loves you and he certainly doesn’ want the world to end. ‘e did what he thought was best for everyone concerned. Now, if you disagree-”

“If?” She looks back into the wall.

“If you disagree, you need to put ‘im in his place, yeah? But,“ he turns her head back, by her chin, to look her in the eye. “Don’t push him away, luv. You need him.”

She contemplates this for a few moments and he takes his hand away again but not before slowly brushing his thumb across her lower lip. That simple movement sends ripples through her. Her eyes glaze over as they land on his mouth, the desire stirring deep inside. Spike is lost in her for a moment. His eyes are drinking her in. He inhales the intoxicating cocktail of her scent. His longing for her is almost too much for him to bear.

He catches himself and instantly stiffens all over, withdrawing from her again. She frowns a little, wondering the cause for such an adverse reaction. She noticed the look that he’d just given her. She recognized it: W a n t.

“Just talk to him...after you’ve calmed down.” He finishes softly, recovering his composure. She looks into his eyes, which are now midnight blue yet still burn brightly in the dark room, and tries to remember her world before Spike came into it. It seems as if he’s always been there.

“Ok,” she says barely above a whisper. He smiles.

“It’s late, luv.” He rises from the cot and picks up his coat, folding it and putting it on a crate by the wall. “You should get some sleep.” Buffy also rises and brushes her hands down her pants.

“You’re sure you’re ok?” She dreads going upstairs alone, but he’s obviously come to some decision about ‘them.’ It isn’t her right to press the issue. She just wishes…

“Ta, luv. Right as rain.” He smiles warmly at her.

“What does that mean, anyway.” She asks, playfully crossing her arms. He just smiles again and turns from her partially. “Alright…g’night.” She reluctantly ascends the steps.

“’Night, luv.” When he hears the basement door close behind her, Spike’s shoulders sag. He gingerly removes his clothes. The bruises send lightening bolts of pain through his body and his abated anger returns, but he ignores it.

He climbs into bed, folding his hands behind his head. He reaches into his mind for the one perfect night he’s had in his whole miserable existence. He doesn’t have too far to travel. It is that night, not so long ago, when he and Buffy held each other in their arms, kissing, gazing into one another’s souls.

It’s only in these wee hours that he’ll allow himself to indulge this way. Hell, he figure he’s earned it after today. Usually he has to fantasize about Buffy’s tenderness. Tonight he has a memory of it.

He closes his eyes and prays for sleep.

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Buffy climbs into bed and closes her eyes. She tries to remember that perfect night, such a short while ago...the way that Spike had held her. The way he’d looked at her as if he finally knew how she felt. She’d tried to tell him, finally.

And I failed miserably.

A tear slips out of the corner of her eye and she wipes it away. It’s times like these when she misses Joyce the most. She wishes she could climb into bed with her and babble about life’s little cruelties. Ask her for some of that motherly advice she so desperately needed. Wishes she were there to tell her it would all be okay, in the end.

No time for a pity party. We’ve got to save the world - again. And as long as we’re still friends and he’s at my side, we can do this. Together, all of us, we can do anything we put our minds to. That’s what mom would say.

She exhales deeply and prays for sleep, but she knows it won’t come.

“I wish you were here, mom.”

“I am here, sweetheart.” A voice says from the darkness.

Title: Nothing Achieving (Chapter 17 of Don’t Stop the Dance)
Giles and Wood have a little chat.

Motel rooms have a unique scent in the United States.

It’s a combination of the smell the sheets have from the linen service, the leftover residue from the expelled air of the vacuum that housekeeping uses, the sickeningly sweet industrial air freshener in the bathroom and years upon years of human occupancy and....activity....in the room veiled by feeble attempts at sanitization.

Giles doesn’t notice any of this though, as he sits on the edge of the firm mattress clutching a small glass of brandy. The only light in the room is the one by the door that he’d turned on when he walked in. The only noises are coming from outside as cars pass by on the nearby road. Headlights throw accusatory shadows across the pale paisley walls every 30 seconds or so. More than enough time for Giles to play judge and jury to himself over and over and pass down the differing sentences.

It’s a thought not fueled by anger, but rather by shame. Giles is ashamed that he allowed his fear and desperation to get the better of him. How had he allowed Wood to convince him to deceive his Slayer? Of course he sympathized with the man over the loss of his mother. And his mother, Nikki Wood, had been a legendary Slayer. Spike was certainly guilty of the crime, but...

“Oh God.” Giles whispers the phrase as if it will lift the weight of trepidation from his chest. He swallows a mouthful of the brown liquid, willing it to burn away the sickness he feels inside.

“Spike has...” a soul. He cannot even allow himself to say it out loud. It’s something that he’s barely been able to comprehend. He’d thought, at first, that it was a ruse to get back into Buffy’s good graces but the changes are unmistakable. Spike has a soul. Everything that Giles knows from the earliest of his Watcher training to his experience with the only other ensouled vampire he’s encountered, Angel, tells him that the soul makes all the difference in the world.

“Spike has a soul. He can’t be held responsible for...” He gets up off the bed and walks over to the desk where the bottle of alcohol sits glistening in the ambient light. He sets his glass down beside it and is tempted to refill it. Several times.

“Why do I hold him responsible for everything the demon did?” He pulls out the chair and sits facing the window, watching the world pass by in the yellow street lamps. He exhales deeply and rests on the back of the chair. “It’s because he hurt Buffy.”

Buffy never told him everything that had happened between them, but he knew. Spike had hurt her. He also knew that Buffy hadn’t been innocent in their...relationship. He had been so blind to it all, that’s what frustrates him the most. He hadn’t been there, leaving Sunnydale because he thought she needed to stand on her own. He loves her so very much and it killed him to leave her, but he’d thought it best.

But now he watches every move that they make. Every glance. Every accidental touch. Even before she’d admitted to caring for the vampire, he’d seen it. She’d dismissed keeping him around as just giving Spike a chance to redeem himself, but Giles knows it is more. He’s tried to warn her, but warning Buffy against something is like giving her carte blanche to charge straight into whatever you’re attempting to shield her from.

Perhaps a little reverse psychology would have worked with her. He chuckles mirthlessly, filling the glass and taking a deep draft.

Those words stung him more than any phrase he’d ever heard. She felt betrayed. Of course she does. He knew that she would be upset, livid even, but he’d hoped that she would see reason. Hoped that she could understand that he had done what he thought was best. What he hadn’t accounted for was Wood’s failure. Then again, thank God for his ineptness. If the plan had succeeded, who knows what state Buffy would be in to lead them into battle with the First. Liability or no, Buffy only sees Spike as an asset. Wood doesn’t care about that, however. Was the man even still alive?

Giles jumps up and grabs his jacket, searching through the pockets for the piece of paper with Wood’s address on it. Snatching up his room key he heads out the door, jumping into the first cab that passes.

-------------

When he arrives outside Wood’s place, he hesitates. He doesn’t want to know, suddenly. Dead or alive, it could change things. If Wood is dead then Spike will have to go down, no matter what Buffy thinks. And she would most likely view Wood’s murder as self-defense, since Spike had been lured here.

If Wood is alive it could mean something entirely different.

Giles rings the doorbell. There’s no answer after half a minute or so. He rings it again. Slowly the door opens. Wood is standing in a t-shirt and sweats. He is battered. One eye is swollen shut and the other is merely a slit. There’s a cut on his lip and a small bandage over his left eye.

“Bloody hell.” Giles mutters.

“Yeah.” Wood steps back and allows the older man entrance. “Something like that.”

Giles steps through the door and Wood closes it behind him. They move silently to the middle of the room, Giles watching the young man’s slow movements. Wood gestures for Giles to sit.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but...” he falters, lowering himself gingerly into a chair filled with various pillows.

Giles raises an eyebrow. “Err, n-no thanks. I understand.” He stares at the pillows.

“They soften the weight on the bruises.” Wood winces as he finally settles into the chair.

“Ah, I see.” Giles sits on the couch, nervously looking around. “Glad to see you’re still alive, although I’m not sure why or how. Did Buffy...I mean...did she-”

“Save me?” Wood’s lips curl into a sardonic smile.

“Uhh...yes.” Giles’ confusion at the man’s expression tilts his head.

“No. The Slayer didn’t rush to my rescue.” Wood says bitterly. “Spike spared me.”

Giles’ eyebrows arch. “Beg your pardon?”

“That’s as good a word as any.” Wood’s laugh turns into a cough. He reaches for a nearby glass and takes a sip. “He pardoned me. Said he would let me live because he killed my mother.”

Giles sits in silence for a few moments. Spike spared his life?

“I...I see,” he says quietly, contemplating the notion of a merciful Spike.

“Yeah, but that’s not the best part.” Wood lays his head back on a pillow.

“And er, what would that be?” Giles’ head hurts from thinking. Spike spared a human life after he’d been trapped and provoked.

“Nah. The best part was Buffy.” Wood waits

“Buffy? What happened with Buffy?” Giles straightens up on the couch, moving to the edge.

“Well, let’s see, she basically told me that she would let her vampire kill me if I go after him again.” He coughs another laugh.

Giles is stunned speechless. Good heavens! Wait, no...it makes sense. Buffy doesn’t think that Spike is expendable. But to allow him to kill...that’s...that’s just...

“She said,” Wood continues. “She said that the mission comes first and that she doesn’t have time for vendettas.” Both men think on that for a few moments. “She sounded a lot like my mom, or at least I think she did. It’s been so long, that I’m not sure I even remember my mother as she actually was or if I just remember her as an invention of my own imagination.” He sits up, with much effort, and faces Giles.

“I got quite a lesson from Spike.” He looks off as if searching for something.

“How so?” Giles leans his arms on his legs, drumming his fingertips together trying to fit the pieces together in his head.

“He gave me his theory on Slayers. Said they’re warriors and that nothing but the mission matters to them, no matter how much...” Wood broke off there.

“How much what?” Giles’ curiosity is piqued. Spike with insight on the mind of the Slayer? How presumptuous.

“He said the Slayer can never put those she loves before the mission. Said my mother chose the mission over me, but I don’t think that’s what he was thinking about at the time. I think he was talking about him and Buffy.”

Giles sets his jaw and drops his eyes from Wood’s. Spike sparing life when it’s laid out before him on a platter? Spike espousing Slayer logic?

“Tell me the truth.” Wood says suddenly. “What is it between Buffy and Spike?” He levels his gaze at the Watcher who slowly returns to it. The two men stare at each other for a few moments before Giles speaks.

“I...I wish I could say I didn’t know. But I do...know...now.” He sinks back into the sofa and removes his glasses, closing his eyes. Robin Wood waits for him to continue.

“There’s a...history between the two. I-I don’t know everything, but I do know that it was sexual and...violent...on both sides. Buffy never told me the details, but I’m not an idiot. I worked it out. Spike nearly did something unspeakable. But here is where I get utterly lost.” He sits up, replacing his glasses and turns to Robin. “Spike went to Africa-“

“To get a soul, I heard that song already.” Robin doesn’t mask the bitterness in his voice.

“Buffy told you...of course she did. She seems...proud of it...of him.” Giles stares at the carpeting. Robin snorts. “She’s...there’s something between them. A connection, if you will. It’s...very strong. She depends on him...and it’s more than just an ally in this war. She...they...”

“I’ve seen it.” Robin interrupts. Giles looks up at him. “In the basement when we rescued her friend...whats-his-name...”

“Xander” Giles offers.

“Yeah...we got there just in time. Spike-” each time he says the name there’s a hitch in his breath, as if saying it causes him physical pain. “Spike came to the restaurant...”

“Yes, and I don’t know how he found you. He said he could track her through her scent, which I’ve known vampires to do, but not across such great distances and not with all of the smells of a city to mask her trail.” Giles slips into watcher-mode for a moment as he tries to process that bit of information.

“Yeah, well, he found her. We went to the school, rescued Xander.” He stops to remember. “I cut him down while Buffy and Spike fought the demon girl. That’s when I first realized what he was.” Anger flashes through him momentarily. “Spike got thrown against the wall. Buffy killed the demon...and...instead of coming to her friend’s side...” He looks at Giles.

“Buffy went to Spike first.” Giles confirms.

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. But then I saw it...the connection you’re talking abut. It made me wanna throw up. How could you have let this happen? You’re her Watcher for Christ’s sake!” Wood’s body tenses up as he confronts the man across from him. It only lasts a few moments as his energy is spent. He sags back into the cushions.

Giles lowers his head and begins to laugh. He leans back into the couch and lays his head back once more. “If you only knew...” He turns his head towards Wood again, finding his eyes. “Buffy is...she’s her own Watcher. I’ve never been more than a glorified researcher.”

“You’re her Watcher, man, you should have kept her in line. Or at least taught her that fucking vampires is not in her job description.” There’s venom in his words, but not energy to back them up. Giles sits up suddenly, glaring at the man.

“Don’t. You. Ever.” He struggles to contain his rage which he knows is misdirected. “Buffy is the best Slayer the Council has ever seen. Her methods are unorthodox because she is unorthodox. She is...different. From me. From you. From your mother. I’ve learned a great deal simply by watching her.

“True, I haven’t always approved of her methods. Quite often she scares the piss out of me with her antics, but I have always trusted her.” He pauses to think about that.

“Until now.” Wood says quietly.

“Until now.” Giles lets go of a breath he’d been holding. “Oh...oh God.” He closes his eyes and his shoulders sag, defeated.

“So ‘why now?’ Is that what you’re asking yourself?” Wood’s voice remains low.

“Yes, precisely. Why now? I don’t trust Spike, but she does. I just cannot help but feel that their...relationship...is clouding her judgment. And the trigger-“

“No longer works.” Wood interjects.

“What do you mean?” Giles looks at Wood perplexed.

“The trigger was broken...during...” Wood declines to tell the Watcher exactly how it was deactivated. “It’s just...gone. It’s gone. Not a threat anymore.”

Giles is stunned but he doesn’t comment. “You see...there was another...she had another relationship of which I strongly disapproved. They were...very much in love, but she was so young. He was...another...vampire.” Wood reacts audibly, but Giles continues.

“He was also ensouled. He was fighting for good. Then...something...happened and he lost his soul. He turned against her and everyone she loved was endangered. Angel with the soul cared for her. Without the soul, Angelus was a monster.

“We...we were able to restore it...the soul...eventually but it meant that they could never be together. He left...went to LA. He still fights the good fight down there. She was so young...so very much in love. I thought she would crumble, but she moved on.”

“You almost sound as if you believe vampires are even capable of love.” Wood says, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

“Well, I wouldn’t have believed it before I saw it in Angel.” Giles pinches the bridge of his nose. “He made her very happy, while it lasted. Fought beside her. Believe me, when it went wrong it went very, very wrong. But when it was right...

“I haven’t seen that look in her eyes since then. Only...sometimes, when she thinks no one’s watching her...I see it.” His voice lowers to almost a whisper.

“You think she’s in love with him. Spike.” Wood merely watches the older man, curious.

“I think...I think she very well may be, though she doesn’t know it. And she would probably deny it. She holds every one of her relationships up in comparison to what she had with Angel. Theirs was doomed from the start, which I’m sure made it all the more intense. And you know...first love.” Wood nods.

“But this connection that she has with Spike. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s...well it’s frightening beyond reason.”

“So you don’t approve?” Wood asks, eyeing the Watcher.

“Hell no! Of course not. It’s just...something that Spike said once.” He drifts off in thought.

“Which was?” Wood presses.

“Well...er...with Angel his main concern, when he left, was that Buffy have a normal life. Well, as normal as is possible for a Slayer, I suppose. But he wanted her to find a nice young man, preferably human, and have a healthy loving relationship. He didn’t want to stand in the way. I suppose he really did care for her. I saw what leaving her was doing to him, but he left.

“But Spike...Spike’s stance is that Buffy is the Slayer, that she’ll never have a normal life and that she should be afforded whatever happiness she can grasp because the only guarantee that she has is a early death.”

“Nice.” Wood snorts.

“Yes, quite.” Giles nods in agreement. “Yet...not entirely dismissible. True, Spike was really only laying the groundwork for himself, but what he said does have a grain of truth in it. Buffy will, in all likelihood, die very young. She may not even make it out of this battle with the First. She and Spike share...something...no matter how reprehensible we may find it. It obviously gives her strength.

“So imagine how I feel having almost removed that source of happiness...of strength...from her?” He looks up at Wood who stares at him impassively.

“I hope you don’t expect me to buy the party line.” Robin crosses his hands across his chest, fingers lacing.

“No. Of course not.” Giles sits forward, facing Robin directly. “However I do think it would be wise for you to lay aside your...issues...with Spike until we’ve reached the other side of this war. After that...” He trails off to let Wood interpret what he will.

“Understood. And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I think it would be best if you lay low for a while. Buffy is...very upset...and I think she’ll need time to settle down. She knows we need you, though, so it’s only a matter of time. She’s very focused these days. She won’t let personal issues detract her.”

“Unless the personal issue is Spike.” Wood counters.

“Ah, well...” with that, Giles rises and heads towards the door. He gestures for Wood to remain in his chair. “I’ll see myself out. Keep in mind what I’ve told you.”

“How could I forget it?” Wood attempts a smile.

“Yes, quite.” Giles opens the door and steps through, closing it behind him.

---------

Giles swipes the key to his motel room and is greeted by the sight of the bottle of brandy glittering in invitation. His head is already swimming from the events of the evening and the information he’s learned from Wood, so he forgoes the alcohol for the bed.

He places his jacket on the back of the chair and unbuttons his shirt absentmindedly, kicking his shoes off next to the desk. He slips out of his trousers and stands in stocking feet with his t-shirt and boxers on. He places his glasses on the nightstand and plops down on the unturned bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to make sense of it all.

The look in her eyes. He’d seen it once before, when she’d found out his role in her “test.” He’d hoped to never see it again, but he has no one to blame but himself.

He has placed a wedge between himself and his Slayer once more. By acting on what he thought was best, he may have damaged their relationship irreparably.

And what has it achieved? He thinks to himself as the sleep won’t come.

Title: Visions of the Night (Chapter 18 of Don’t Stop the Dance)
My last interlude before ‘Dirty Girls’

Buffy’s tossing and turning, which is more than what she gets most nights. It means she’s dreaming. Usually she catches quick catnaps before her mind snaps back to alertness and she tries to strategize ways of winning this increasingly deadly war. She is mumbling in her sleep.

Mom?

She is running through thick foliage. Enormous leaves of greenery slap at her face, her arms, her thighs. Dressed in thin pajama bottoms with a tank top, her feet are bare. She is running with her hands in front of her face to push the branches and leaves out of the way, squinting her eyes as the ones she misses sting her.

Mom!

She comes to a clearing of pristine white beach. The water at the edge is jewel-tones of blue and green. The sun peeks over the humungous palm trees but is high enough in the sky to offer warmth without the burn. Buffy slows her pace as she approaches lands’ end. She turns 360 degrees, searching for any other sign of life. There is no one. She turns back to the water, scanning the horizon which is undisturbed.

Buffy spins in the direction of the voice. Her mother is standing 5 feet or so from her in the sand. She is barefoot and wearing a light yellow sundress with a big floppy straw hat.

Mom.

Buffy rushes into her mother’s open arms which surround her. Joyce’s hands caress her daughter’s hair and back, whispering soothing words into the ear of the woman that has dissolved into a young girl in a matter of seconds.

Mom...m-mom.

The two women rock back and forth in their embrace. Slowly, Buffy pulls back to look her mother in the eye. Joyce smoothes the stray hairs back from her forehead and smiles.

Buffy smiles brightly at the endearment and she kisses her mother cheeks.

I miss you so much, mom.

It’ so hard, mom. I-it’s...

Joyce gently embraces Buffy once more and guides her to the edge of the surf. The two women sit in the sand just out of the reach of the encroaching waves. Buffy rests her head on her mother’s shoulder. They sit in silence for a few moments.

Mom?

Will I be able to do this? Will I be able to win this time?

Almost?

She looks up at her mother’s serene face as she gazes out at the water.

She turns to look at Buffy and takes her daughter’s hands into her own.

Tell me what to do, mom. I can’t do this alone.

Buffy’s brow furrows with fear. She clings to her mother’s hands.

But Giles and the others-

Buffy’s eyes widen in realization.

I was right.

The two sit in silence at the sky turns various shades of orange and pink and then finally purple and blue. Buffy lies down with her head in her mother’s lap. Joyce strokes her daughter blonde locks, lulling her to sleep. As the first three stars appear in the evening sky, Joyce slowly extricates herself from her daughter’s slumbering form. She bends over her ear before rising and whispers into it, parting with a kiss.

Joyce walks into the forest leaving Buffy on the shore.

--------

She knocks softly on the door. When no one answers, Dawn enters her sister’s room to find her sound asleep. Dawn can’t remember the last time Buffy had slept so deeply. She is reluctant to wake her but knows that she would want the news. Quietly and slowly she lowers herself on the bed next to her sister. She drapes and arm across her waist and studies the smooth features of her face. She looks so peaceful. She hasn’t seen this Buffy in ages. Lately, her older sister has more resembled a hardened war general than the vibrant woman she’d hoped to take after one day.

Dawn watches as, in her dreaming, different emotions play out across her sister’s face. Her lips are moving slightly, as if in conversation. Small sounds escape from her throat. Dawn gently shakes her.

“Buuuu-ffyyyy. Buffy, wake up.” She doesn’t really want to wake her. Laying here beside her, feeling the softness and warmth, it’s not something that Dawn has had a lot of lately. She misses touching and holding. Joyce used to hold her all the time. And she and Buffy used to cuddle up together and watch movies on the couch when she was little. Not that any of that actually happened, but the monks were nice enough to put the memories there. Dawn has come to accept those memories as reality, no longer distinguishing between experiences.

“C’mon, Buffy. Time to get up. Rise and shine.” Buffy stirs a little, as her brow knits.

“Mmmmm 5 more minutes.” She mumbles, pulling Dawn’s arm tighter around her. Dawn smiles and closes her eyes, inhaling the faint vanilla smell of the blonde’s hair.

A small smile appears on her lips. After a few more moments, Dawn tries again to rouse her slumbering sister.

“C’mon sleepyhead. We’ve got major evil at the door waiting for an ass-whoopin.” Dawn deliberately uses the phrase to get her sister’s attention. She smirks in her closed face.

“Unnngh. Sleep...need sleep.” Despite the protests, Buffy’s eyes slowly open. She blinks a few times to adjust to the closeness of the face across from her. “Dawn?”

“Hey.” Dawn smiles, but it quickly dissipates as Buffy extracts herself from her sister’s embrace to sit up.

“Wh-what time is it?” Buffy rubs the sleep out of her eyes and looks around for her alarm clock.

“It’s around 11.” Dawn’s smile returns. She’s happy that Buffy was able to get some sleep. Something big happened last night. She doesn’t know what, exactly, but she’d heard Buffy and Giles in the hall.

“Oh geez. I must have really passed out when I got back.” Buffy looks over at Dawn as if seeing her for the first time. “Oh hey...how are you? Are you all right?” She checks over the superficial wounds Dawn had sustained during Spike’s detriggering session.

“I’m okay.” Dawn waves her sister’s hand away from the bandage over her eye. Secretly she is thrilled at Buffy’s concern. They haven’t been very close lately and she’s wondered if she’d even known she was still in the house, what with all of the Potentials running around. “I didn’t want to wake you, but Willow called.”

“Willow?” Buffy slips out from under the covers and grabs a brush from her dresser.

“Yeah. She said to tell you that she’s coming home tonight...and...” Dawn trails off.

“And?” Buffy turns around to her sister expectantly, brushing her hair with harsh strokes.

“She’s bringing Faith.” Dawn does little to hide the displeasure at this part of her message. Picking up on it, Buffy puts the brush down and rounds the bed to sit next to her young sibling.

“I know how you feel, Dawnie. I’m not far behind ya, there. We do need her here, though. We’re going to need all the help we can get with this thing.” Buffy brushes a loose strand of hair behind Dawn’s ear. She thinks back on how life was for her at that age and chastises herself for not being able to give some of that innocence to the young girl.

“I know.” Dawn sighs and Buffy squeezes her shoulder. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Buffy places her hand on her sister’s knee and pats it.

“So...where is everyone, it’s awfully quiet in this house for a Sunday morning.” Buffy jumps up and goes over to her closet.

“Well, most of the girls are out back working with Kennedy. Xander is fixing the leaky disposal. It was getting a little smelly under the kitchen sink.” She turns up her nose, though Buffy isn’t looking. “Giles said he’d be over later on...he had something to take care of.” Dawn notices the stiffness that appears in Buffy’s body at the mention of his name.

“Ok.” Buffy replies, her back still turned. “And...uh...Spike? Have you seen him?”

“As far as I know, he’s still in the basement.” She mutters.

Buffy turns to face her sister. “He’s sorry, y’know. He was really worried about you.”

Dawn shrugs. She’s not angry with the blonde vampire, but since he came back with his soul he’s been so distant. It could be because she’d threatened to light him on fire, but he knew she was only looking out for Buffy. She knows he’d never hurt Buffy now, not willingly. Except...

“Did the stone thingy work? Y’know...to get rid of Spike’s trigger?” Buffy met the curiously hopeful eyes of her sister. She crossed over and sat beside her on the bed.

“Sorta. I mean...yeah, he’s detriggered.” Buffy is reluctant to go into the details of the previous night.

“Oh? Well...that’s of the good, isn’t it? I mean the First can’t use Spike as it’s bitch anymore, right?”

“Dawn!” Buffy’s face is a mask of parental outrage.

“Hey, I’m just saying!” Dawn’s giggling brings Buffy down off her high horse. It’s been too long since she’d heard the teen’s girlish laughter. Way too long. And even longer since Dawn had shown any friendly concern for Spike...particularly considering their last conversation on the subject.

Buffy rises from the bed and reaches over to close her bedroom door. She turns back to the brunette, he mouth open to speak.

“What’s up Buffy? With the face of doom?”

“Oh...no-no...i-it’s not the face of doom. No doom face here...it’s just...” Dawn pulls her sister back to the bed.

“C’mon, Buffy, spill. It’s been a while since we’ve had a heart-to-heart.” Buffy’s eyes meet Dawn’s and there is a silent apology in them. Dawn nods and Buffy exhales deeply before jumping into what’s weighing on her mind.

“Dawn...how do you...feel...about Spike?” Dawn’s eyes widen a little, and then she searches the floor for the right words.

“I...Ok, I guess. I mean-“ she twists the edge of the sheet between her hands. “I was scared...before. When he was so...out of control...so unpredictable.” She is reluctant to let Buffy know just how uncomfortable she’d been having him in the house. When she’d learned he was killing again, albeit unwillingly, she’d starting sleeping with stakes under her pillow.

“Dawn, you know I would never have had him here if I thought he was a real threat.” Buffy tries to meet her sister’s eyes, but Dawn avoids them.

“I-I-I know, Buff. I know. It’s just...” She falters and turns away a bit.

“What?” Buffy senses her apprehension.

“Spike was my friend. He cared for me. He cared for you too. And then he...he hurt you.” She trails off.

“And you think he is going to hurt you too?” Dawn simply nods.

Buffy sighs and puts her arms around her sister’s shoulders. She doesn’t know how to explain the trust she has in Spike. It isn’t as simple as soul or no-soul.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked you before...the other day...”

“Yeah.” Buffy knows what’s coming next.

“Do you?” Dawn turns her face to her sister, her eyes confused.

Buffy doesn’t answer right away. She isn’t sure how to answer. Everyone keeps asking her the same question and she doesn’t know how to answer it. Yes. She loves him. But how? And how much? To what extent? Is she-

“I love him too...” Dawn reads the thoughts in her sister’s eyes. “...and I miss him. He’s right here and I miss him. I think maybe...maybe he doesn’t...” Tears form in her blue eyes. Buffy turns to face her sister and she takes her round face in her hands, stroking her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

“Oh he loves you, Dawn. I think he’s feeling the same thing you are. He’s afraid that, by hurting me last year, he’s lost you forever.” Dawn’s eyes close and the tears slip. Buffy pulls her sister into her arms.

“Giles tried to kill Spike, didn’t he?” Dawn’s voice is so soft, Buffy has to strain to hear her, but she does. She pulls her sister back and looks into her face.

“Where did you hear that?” Buffy is shocked.

“From you.” Dawn does nothing to mask her eavesdropping. “Last night. I know everyone thought I was out of it, but I wasn’t. I heard you. You said Wood failed. You meant the principal, didn’t you. I see how he looks at Spike. He hates him. A lot of people around here hate him. They want to see him dead just because he’s a vamp or because they don’t approve of you two.”

Dawn’s face takes on the maturity of someone twice her age. As she speaks, her voice doesn’t falter. Buffy is taken aback at the powerful intelligence held in her sister’s slim frame. She realizes that this is young woman before her, no longer a little girl. She is so overwhelmed by the sadness of that simple fact that a lump forms in the back of her throat as she fights back her own tears.

“They don’t trust you, Buffy. They don’t trust Spike. I don’t like it. These people are strangers...strangers in our house. They come in here looking for protection and then they act like they own this place. Like they own you. I. Don’t. Like. It.” Anger has seeped into her voice, but she stares calmly at her sister.

“Dawn-“ Buffy shares her sister’s dislike with the situation, but she understands that everyone needs to stand unified if they are to succeed. “It...this...is an unbearable situation, but I promise it will get better soon. I promise. Trust me, ok?” Dawn nods. Her cheeks are flush, but she is calming down. “You watch my back, I’ll watch yours...and we’ll both watch Spike’s, because he’s watching ours. Deal?”

“Deal” Dawn offers a small smile.

“And Dawn?” The younger Summers sister looks up into Buffy’s hazel eyes. “You need to tell Spike how you feel. Before...”

“Ok, Buffy. I will.” Dawn hugs her sister and stands up to leave the room. When she reaches the door, she turns to face her again. “By the way, Buffy...that goes for you too.” She smiles. Buffy smiles and nods. Dawn exits quietly into the hall, closing the door behind her.

---------

Spike is screaming. Not really, but in his dream he is screaming.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Buffy dies again. Again he is too late to save her. And Dawn’s gone too this time, her tiny body broken like a fallen swallow, crushed under an invisible force. He is pinned in place while Angelus dances with the First who has taken the form of his beloved. His Buffy. Beside him, Willow places a hand on his shoulder.

He weeps. He weeps for his girls. His Buffy and his Dawn. Angelus turns to him and grins, fangs dripping with the Slayer’s blood as he waltzes with the First. The tears are never-ending. Willow is still talking to him.

Something soft touches his cheek and his lips. Spike jerks awake and seizes whatever is in front of him. He is startled to find Buffy’s forearms in his grasp and immediately loosens his grip.

“Buffy?” His voice is raspy from anguished sleep and he blinks to clear the remnants of his dream from his eyes. Buffy removes her arms from his hands and resumes wiping the tears from his face. She smiles sadly.

“You were calling my name.”

Spike’s response is to crush her to him. Confusing relationship-be-damned, he holds her to him and cradles her head in his hands. His fingers entangle themselves in her hair. She responds by pulling him closer to her. One hand splays across his back while the other lazily traces circles at the nape of his neck. He is breathing unnecessarily ragged breath, exhaling with her name on his lips.

Buffy leans back to look into his tear-filled eyes. “Bad dreams?” She gives him a tiny smile as she takes one hand and wipes more of the salty liquid from his face. He stares into her as if he’s afraid she’s going to disappear before his eyes.

“Ah, luv.” He presses his forehead to hers and closes his eyes. She studies his mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Spike whispers. “I ‘ope I didn’t give you too much of a fright, grabbin’ you like that.” He releases her head from his hands before she has a chance to act on her thought.

“S’ok” she whispers, wanting desperately to melt into his arms. Spike lays back down and brings the palms of his hands to his eyes.

“Wow...remind me never t’ go to bed sober again.” He laughs. Buffy chuckles a bit and gets up off the cot. Spike sits up and swings his legs over the edge, placing his feet on the floor. He is naked from the waist up, but has learned not to sleep nude in a house full of hormonal teenaged girls. He stands up and tightens the drawstring on his black sweatpants.

Buffy has her back to him and is folding laundry over the dryer. “Spike...I wanted to talk to you.”

He pads over to her, stretching along the way, until he’s standing a few feet behind. Knowing he’s partially dressed, Buffy refuses to turn around. She feigns fascination in a particular pair of socks.

“S’up, Slayer?”

“It’s about Dawn.” She tosses the pair into the basket.

“She alright? Din’t ‘urt Niblet too much, did I?” Spike’s voice shows more than a touch of concern.

“No. No...she’s fine. It’s...she misses you.” Spike steps over to the Slayer and tries to catch her gaze. When she finally looks up, he smiles.

“Yeah? Well...I miss ‘er too. Din’t think she wanted to ‘ave anythin’ to do with me after....everything.” His eyes are sad. Buffy smiles up at him, which catches him off guard. Their eyes lock. He finds himself suddenly lost in her gaze. Their bodies are drifting together as if pulled magnetically.

Buffy’s eyes drift from his down to his mouth and back as she finds his eyes doing the same. Goosebumps erupt from her skin, a direct result from his proximity and the promise it brings. Both of them tilt their heads simultaneously as they move closer together centimeter by centimeter. Buffy instinctively darts her tongue across her lips to wet them. Spike’s eyes catch the motion and are immediately clouded with the lust he’s been holding back from her.

The items in Buffy’s hands fall forgotten to the floor as she steps into him. Her hands shake as she reaches towards his chest. Spike can feel her breathe across his lips as his eyes drift close and he lowers his head. There is an electrical discharge just before their mouths fuse together.

Suddenly the basement disappears for them. Soft, warm arms encircle his waist. Fingers move deftly through her hair. Their tongues are battling for more...more contact...more of the delicious sensation that is each other. Spike slowly backs Buffy into the dryer as his hands move down her body. Her breath is ragged as the kiss deepens. All of the pent up passion that neither one of them had been aware existed in the other is pouring out.

His hands blaze icy trails across a sliver of exposed skin across her stomach. His thumbs graze the underside of her breasts through the thin cotton fabric of her shirt. Buffy gasps at the contact and deepens the kiss even more, subconsciously grinding her hips into his obvious arousal. A small moan escapes her mouth and travels to the back of his throat where it is answered in an echo of his own. Buffy raises her leg over his thigh and he sinks further into her body, overwhelmed by the heat he can feel through the denim of her jeans. He wraps his arms around her pulling her closer, one hand in the small of her back the other cupping the thigh of her raised leg. Buffy’s hands travel the planes of his sculpted chest and she hooks one arm in anchor around his neck as she climbs his body.

“Buffy!”

They both freeze. Buffy’s eyes pop open and she stares into Spike’s darkened blue.

“Buffy...are you down there?” Dawn’s voice travels down the stairs, through the basement and lands in between their bodies. Their mouths slowly separate, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

“Y-yeah...I’m here Dawn.” Buffy lowers herself from him as searches Spike’s face for any indication that he doesn’t think they were about to make a mistake. The way he ducks his head and moves away from her tells her the opposite.

“Can you help us with something in the kitchen?” Dawn calls back.

“Sure...I-I’ll be right up.” Buffy’s eyes never leave Spike’s retreating form. “Spike.” He raises his hand.

“Don’t.” He turns back to face her, the look on his face confuses her. “It’s...there’s nothing to say, Buffy. Let’s just take it as a sign and be thankful.”

“Right.” She gathers up the laundry and heads towards the stairs. Stopping at the bottom she turns to look at him. “Talk to Dawn, Spike. You both need each other.”

Spike nods to her and their eyes lock again. Both note the look of longing in the other and both interpret it as loneliness instead of what it really is. But before anything more can be said or done, Buffy heads up the steps.

“Bugger.” Spike says quietly. And then a slow smile creeps across his face as he runs his hands through his hair and moves to dress for the day.

-------------

He steps out of the makeshift shower and dries off, dressing quickly. He hears soft footsteps on the steps as he pulls a black t-shirt over his head.

“S-Spike?” Dawn tiptoes towards him. “Hey.” She gives him a small smile.

“Hey nib.” Spike smiles sheepishly. He backs up a step and sits on the cot, looking up at the young girl expectantly. Dawn shoves her hands in her pockets.

“Gotta sec?” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. Spike nods and gestures towards the cot. She crosses over to him and sits.

“What’s on yer mind?” He scoots over to give her a comfortable distance.

“Nothin’…just” Dawn blushes. “I just wanted you to know…that…I’m glad you’re here…and I think it’s great that you and Buffy are getting along again.”

Spike smiles at the littlest Summers. “Yeah, me too platelet. But-“ Dawn looks up expectantly.

“But? Aren’t things better for you two?” He looks away to avoid showing her the pain in his eyes.

“Yeah, things are…going well. We’re good friends now.” Dawn cringes and she begin to laugh.

“Good friends? You two? C’mon.” Her laughter is cut short when she notices Spike avoiding her eyes. “Spike…you guys…what you have, it’s real. I can see it. God, everyone can!”

“There is a…connection, niblet, but not the one you think. Listen, I don’ think you came down ‘ere to talk about big sis…did you?”

“Nah.” She smiles and ducks her eyes. “I just wanted…to…I just-“

Spike reaches over and tugs Dawn towards him. He wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her head. She closes her eyes and places her head on his chest. His voice is very quiet when he speaks. “Nib, I know you have every right to hate me, but I want you to know I’m sorry for what happened. I’d never hurt you or Buffy…not if I can help it.”

Dawn is pleasantly surprised at the new and improved affectionate Spike. She remembers a time when being so close to him would have added fuel to the schoolgirl crush she once had. Now it’s the comfort of a big brother that she finds in his embrace.

“I know you’d never try to hurt us, Spike. I trust you.” She pulls back and looks up at him, giving him her patented smile. He returns it warmly and kisses her forehead over the bandage where he’d inadvertently harmed her. If she could see his eyes, she would see the hurt in them from the knowledge that he’d hurt her. Dawn removes herself from him and gets up from the cot.

“Oi-“ he feigns offense. “Is that it?” Dawn smiles brightly as she bounces back over to him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Love you.” She winks and skips up the steps.

Spike smirks to himself. That’s the first bit of the old Dawn he’s seen in months.

------------

That night’s patrols are divided up. Kennedy and Giles have taken some of the less experienced Potentials. Buffy avoids him, though she knows eventually they will talk. She just isn’t ready for it yet. Buffy takes Spike, they walk along in uncomfortable silence. Once they hit the cemeteries, they decide to split up and meet later.

Nothing goes bump in the night so Buffy is distracted from the quiet patrol. Her thoughts keep traveling back to that afternoon in Spike’s basement. There was definitely something there…she saw it. Felt it. Tasted it.

She is walking along trying to recall each moment of that scene when she hears a familiar sound.

“Bloody ‘ell...we’re on the same side!” Spike’s voice carries over the large marble obelisk separating her from him. As she rounds the corner she sees him squaring off with Faith.

Ah. She thinks to herself. The bitch is back.