Leaving Dawn and Willow to deal with the last of the guests, Buffy slipped outside into the alleyway that ran down the side of the building. This was such a mess, and she didn't know what to do.

She leaned against the cool brick wall, closing her eyes. Just as she felt herself beginning to relax, a familiar tingle ran down her spine. Her eyes flew open, narrowing immediately.

"I know you're here," she muttered under her breath. She peered down the dark of the alleyway, and made out the outline of the black Desoto.

She rolled her eyes and headed towards it. Running her hand over the hood absentmindedly, she opened the passenger door, and slid into the car.

Spike was bent over the wheel, head pressed against his fists, which were tightly curled around the steering wheel.

As Buffy shut the door, his head snapped up. He stared at her intensely for a moment, until she sighed impatiently.

"Are you just gonna look at me forever?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

He gave her a half-smile. "You know I could, luv."

"Yeah, well, it makes me feel all...weird."

He dropped his hands into his lap, and rested his head back. "Sorry, pet, but you've gotta give me a little bit more than 'weird' here."

She fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't know. Self-conscious, I guess." A pause. "Look, can we just leave it already?" She snapped irritably.

He sucked in his cheeks in annoyance. "Well, you came over to my car, I'll remind you. Wasn't I annoyin' you enough from far away that you had to come and find me for an argument."

She opened her mouth to find the right words, but she knew he didn't deserve lies and excuses from her anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered simply.

He nodded, his eyes closed. "Thank you."

"Ha," she muttered sadly. "I don't deserve your thanks, Spike."

When he didn't respond, she looked around the car.

"Hey, where's Miss-Attempt-To-Make-Buffy-Jealous-2002?"

This earned her a chuckle. "Pet, you see through everything, don't you? I sent her home, told her I felt sick. She's gone."

"Oh... so, um, will you be seeing her again?" Buffy asked, staring fixedly at the dashboard of the car.

"No. Why does it bother you so much, Buffy?"

She sighed. "Because seeing you with her made me crazy jealous. And angry, and sad. And relieved. Are you happy now?"

He lifted his hand hesitantly to her face, and gently stroked her cheek when she didn't move away. "You think you bein' sad would make me happy? You know me better than that, Slayer."

"Well, I don't know, every time I'm miserable, you're there."

"Well, that's because every time you're miserable, you're alone. You never let them see you in your misery. Nobody, except me. Why is that, pet?" He smoothed her hair back.

"Because..." she said evasively, moving his hand away.

He caught her wrist.

"'Because...'?" He prompted.

She pushed him away, and climbed into the back-seat.

He growled, and turned to face her. "Buffy," he stressed impatiently.

She avoided his gaze, and ran her hand back and forth across the leather seat, agitated.

"Look at me, Buffy," he ordered.

When she reluctantly brought her eyes up to his, he saw that hers were swimming with tears.

"Xander left Anya at the altar."

As she dropped her head again, he climbed back beside her.

" 'M sorry. Never saw that comin'." He rubbed her arm soothingly.

"Yeah. Big suckfest, the whole thing. Poor Anya, I mean, she was devastated. I don't get how Xander could do it to her, you know? Anya loved him so much, and God, the look on her face..." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Where is he now?" Spike asked, massaging soothing circles onto her hand.

"I have no idea. Oh, God, it's Xander. I mean, I've known him for so long, and I never saw this coming. He loves her! I know he does. I don't get this!" She punched the front seat in frustration.

"Hey, now, luv. Let's not take it out on the car," he said jokingly. "Always would've thought she'd have left him, yeah? I mean, I don't think I could ever be married to somebody that annoying."

His attempt to lighten the mood made her give a small smile.

"I don't think you could ever be married. You? That settled?" She remarked with a smirk.

He pushed her playfully. "Well, give me the right woman..."

She rolled her eyes, serious again. "Spike, don't..."

He laughed. "Bloody hell, woman, I wasn't askin' to marry you! You'd drive me insane!"

"Gee, thanks."

He stroked her hair. "Do love you though."

She eyed him firmly. "Don't go there, Spike. Please. I can't talk about us right now. Not with all of them." She gestured towards the building. "Today really upset me. Everybody was hurting so much, and I couldn't save them."

He sighed. "You can't save them from themselves, pet. You know that."

"But I should try. I couldn't do anything, and I hated it. I feel like I've let them down."

"Buffy, preventin' the breakdown of your mates' relationships isn't exactly in the job description of the Chosen One, you know."

"I know that. But it wasn't the Slayer who let them down... It was their friend. And that's so much worse."

As she lapsed into silence, Spike struggled to find words to comfort the Slayer.

Eventually, he broke the quiet. "I didn't do anything with her, luv," he burst out. "I want you to know that. I didn't sleep with her. Hell, she didn't even get a goodnight kiss. I wouldn't... Well, I couldn't. So, no need to feel those bad feelin's jus' 'cause I brought some bird to the weddin'. Not even sure what her bloody name was... Yes, she was a stupid attempt to make you jealous, an' I apologize."

She smiled at him. "You suck at being evil, do you know that?"

He laughed, and put an arm around her. " 'M sorry today hurt you so much, pet. An' I was enjoyin' how happy you looked. It was great."

To his surprise, she wound her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He tightened his hold around her, pressing his face to her soft hair, keeping her safe.

"I wish it was so much simpler," she murmured into his shirt.

"Wish what was simpler?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Today. The wedding. Us. Everything, I guess..."

"You want us to be simpler? How's that now?"

She raised her head to face him. "I'm sorry. Because I never meant for this to hurt you. Really, I didn't. Strangely, one of the last things I want to do lately is hurt you. Not physically, of course. 'Cause you're so damn annoying it's easy." She flashed him a wry smile. "But I hurt you inside, and you should hate me. God, I hate me."

He frowned. "I could never hate you... Well, I used to, before everythin', of course. I mean, you are the Slayer, after all. But I love you, Summers. And you did hurt me, I'll admit. More than I thought I would, actually. Even Dru couldn't make feelings so intense in me. I love you so much more than I ever loved her. But hurt feelin's aside, don't hate yourself, pet. There's enough beasties out there doin' it, so there's no need for you to join in."

She nodded. "You're pretty forgiving for an evil vampire."

He shrugged. "I try."

Laughing, she leaned her head onto his shoulder. "Feels like I could've saved us both a lot of tears, though, if this was simpler."

"Both?" He repeated, frowning for a moment. "You cried?" He asked incredulously.

She bowed her head. "I do have a heart, you know," she said quietly.

He ran his hand along her arm. "Oh, I know. I used to like listenin' to it when you were sleepin'," he admitted in a whisper.

She flushed. "Can I ask, am I the only person who gets to see the William side of you?"

"Pet, you're the one who brought it out in me again. Been tryin' to bury the bugger for the past hundred years, but you keep diggin' him up, don't you?"

"He's very sweet," she whispered, looking up at him.

"You tell a soul, an' you're dead," he murmured, twirling a loose strand of her hair around his finger.

"Spike's not that bad either," she allowed. "Not very evil, actually."

He gave a low growl, bending his lips to her neck. She felt his human teeth graze her skin, a warning.

She gave a gasp. "What would the other vampires say? Slayer in your arms, time and time again... And you kiss her."

He pulled his face up to hers. "Well, pet, how do you think they'd react when they know that instead of plungin' a stake into my chest, you plant little kisses across it," he teased.

She curled her hands around his neck, and held her face close to hers. "You tell a soul, and you're dead," she repeated, brushing her lips against his.

He pulled her closer, and then it happened.

She felt what she hadn't realised she'd even been missing. But there it was. She kissed him hard, running her hands over the familiar planes of his cheekbones, his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, his shoulders, and back up through his hair.
Eventually, they pulled away allowing Buffy to catch her breath. Both panting hard, they stared at each other. The Slayer pressed a hand to her bruising lips, and gasped for breath. The vampire stared at her in wonder, fearing that she'd recoil any moment.

"Buffy, I -" he began, but she held her fingers to his lips, hushing him.

Then, she pulled him back to her, and stared into his eyes. Kissing him softly, she wound her arms around Spike, falling back into the embrace of the vampire.

And she forced herself to ignore the voice in the back of her head that was screaming itself hoarse that once she did this, she could never go back... she knew she couldn't... she didn't want to.

Buffy moved her neck uncomfortably, grimacing at how stiff it was. Squinting her eyes open, she saw that just a little light was seeping into the car, the rest having been successfully blacked out by the vampire that she was lying against.



She traced her fingers along the pattern of the fleece blanket draped over them. Spike's arms were curled around her waist, keeping her loosely in place. She gave a small smile, and her finger around his wrist.



They were in the sitting position, his back resting against the car door, his feet touching off of the other. She was lying on top of him, head against his chest.



She tightened the blanket around herself, hoping to God that he had locked the doors. She flushed with embarrassment as she imagined some curious employee opening the door and finding them in this compromising situation.



"Mornin' Slayer." His cool breath tickled her cheek.



She turned to face him. "Hi," she said shyly. "I didn't know you were awake."



"Yeah, I felt you movin'."



"Sorry." She gave him a sheepish smile.



"Trust me, pet, I'm so bloody delighted right now, I couldn't care less if you woke me or not, Nothin' could spoil my mood now."



"That's good..." She moved out of his embrace, wrapping the blanket around herself.



He frowned. "Where are you goin'?"



"I'm getting dressed," she replied, reaching for her dress from where it lay abandoned on the floor in the front of the car.



He grabbed her by the waist, and yanked her back onto his lap.



"Hey!" She cried out indignantly.



"Stop wrigglin', woman." He held her firm, ignoring her glare. "Are we back here again, or what? I mean, you end things... then last night you're all ... amazin', and wonderful. All soft kisses and bein' bloody nice to me. But you're jus' gonna up an' leave once you've got what you wanted, is that it? That wasn't just another quick shag last night. I felt somethin', an’ you bloody well did too. So, no. I can't let you leave like this."



"It wasn't like before, Spike," she whispered. "I know it wasn't, and I'm not trying to do that all over again. I did feel something, I really did, but we're in your car, who only knows what time it is, and I'm pretty sure that I've left Dawn all night. So, I actually want to stay, Spike, but I really can't."



She slid off of his lap with no resistance from the vampire, and pulled herself into the dress.



"You want to stay?" Spike asked quietly.



She looked at him with a small smile. "I really do. More than I can say, actually. But I have responsibilities, and you know that." She turned for a moment, holding her dress in place. "Will you zip?" She twisted her back around to him.



"Here," he murmured, tugging the zipper upwards. When he finished, he planted a soft kiss onto the nape of her neck.



She shivered, and leaned back against him, eyes closed. He ran his fingers down her arms, until he was holding her hands. He gave them a gentle squeeze.



They stayed like that for a moment, the Slayer lying contentedly against the vampire, as he nuzzled her neck and shoulders softly. Eventually, Buffy sighed, and turned to face him.

She kissed his cheek lightly, then climbed into the front of the car, and settled herself into the passenger seat.



She looked back at the dumbstruck vampire, and raised her eyebrows. "What?" She asked innocently. When he didn't answer, she smirked and scooped his jeans up from the floor of the car, and tossed them to him. "Get dressed," she smiled. "You gotta drive me home."



He did as he was told, wearing a dazed smile on his face as he tugged his jeans on. He got into his seat beside her, shirtless, and switched on the engine. She took in his bare chest. "Show-off," she muttered under her breath.



He shot her a cocky grin. "What can I say, luv? If you've got it..." He laughed as she shoved him playfully. "You're in a hell of a good mood today," he chuckled.



She tugged at her dress. "Yeah, I am," she admitted. "Weird, huh?"



He nodded. "Very weird." He drove the car out of the alleyway.



They sat in silence, as Buffy fiddled with the knobs of the radio. He reached out and turned up the volume. She gave him a quick smile, and settled back in her seat, rubbing her eyes tiredly.



"Tired?"



She shrugged. "A little. Could've done with a little more sleep, I guess."



He peered through the small slit in his windscreen. "Well, we're not far from your house anyways, pet, so you can get all the sleep you want then."



She sat up straighter. "Could you drop me at the top of the street? There's enough drama, without the guys wondering why you're dropping me to the door after I've been out all night... I'm sorry."



He nodded. "It's alright, this time, luv." He pulled the car over at the top of Revello Drive.



She paused for a moment, before leaning in to give him a soft, chaste kiss on the lips.



"Thank you, Spike." She reached for the door handle.



"Here, put this on," he said, grabbing his discarded shirt from the back and tossing it to her. "Rained pretty hard last night. And besides, you look like a bloody mermaid."



She shot him her best Slayer look, and he laughed.



"Goodbye." The quirk of her lips belied her tone.



He smiled at her. "Bye, pet."



Buffy climbed out of the car, and shut the door quickly to avoid letting any of the sun’s deadly rays hit him.



Stepping up onto the curb, she raised her hand to wave goodbye, but then sheepishly realised that he wouldn’t be able to see her through the blackened windows. As he pulled away, she tugged the black shirt on, fastening a couple of buttons.



She walked along the pavement to 1630, side-stepping large puddles as she went. “Mermaid, my ass,” she muttered.



Arriving home, she slipped through the front door, shutting it quietly. She hurriedly moved to sneak up the stairs.



“Buffy?”



She froze on the staircase, cursing under her breath. Turning around, she fixed a false grin on her face.



“Hey Will, what’s up?”



The redhead stood in the foyer, a frown creasing her forehead.



“You didn’t come home last night…”



Buffy waved her hand breezily. At least, she hoped she looked breezy. “Oh, you know, monsters to slay, civilians to protect. Slayer package and all.”



“You were… patrolling?”



“Yep.”



“All night?”



“What can I say, busy night, huh?”



“…In your bridesmaid dress?”



Crap. Buffy had forgotten about that little detail. “Um, well, yeah. Didn’t have a chance to come home and change, busy fighting the evil and all.” Cue perky grin.



“We were really worried, Buffy. Dawn was pretty upset after the wedding, you know.” Willow was pulling that face again, the one that let Buffy know she’d done wrong. God, she was getting sick of that disapproving expression.



“I’m sorry, Will. I’ll go talk to Dawnie, have a sisterly day or something. I just sort of want a shower and a nap first, ‘kay?”



Her friend nodded. “Alright, she’s upstairs doing some overdue studying.”



With one last forced smile, Buffy turned and continued up the stairs. Stopping by her sister’s room, she peeked inside.



“Hey.”



Her sister looked up from her textbook. “Buffy? Where were you? We were really worried when you didn’t come home last night.”



Buffy repressed a sigh. “Just doing some slay-age, you know?”



“All night? Tara thought you might be looking for Xander.”



Guilt grew in the pit of her stomach. Oh, God, how had she forgotten?



“He hasn’t come back yet?”



“No, Anya called this morning, but Xander didn’t come home either. Do you think he’s alright?” Dawn implored, big eyes filled with worry.



Buffy swallowed. “I hope so, Dawnie. It’s looking kinda complicated, but I think he just needs time to figure out what he wants.”



“Poor Anya,” her sister lamented.



The Slayer walked over and sat on the edge of Dawn’s bed. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It was really horrible, wasn’t it?”



“It was so sad! I mean, the look on her face when she walked back down the aisle…” Tears filled Dawn’s eyes. “Why can’t everybody just be happy around here, for once?”



There was that guilt stabbing at Buffy’s insides again. “I guess we’re all just having a hard time…”



Dawn sighed. “If you’re gonna give me the ‘you-wouldn’t-understand-it’s-an-grown-up’ thing, then save it. Pretty much know it off by heart by now.”



Buffy frowned. Dawn was becoming less and less easy to reach these days. Her tantrums were driving Buffy insane. She didn’t know how to get through to her. And of course, there had been all the acting out of the past year – namely making out with undead strangers, the big ole’ klepto issue, and her attitude. And Buffy didn’t have the slightest clue on how to solve these problems…



Dawn’s voice pulled her out of her reverie. “Where’d you get that shirt?”



“Hmm? What? … Oh, um… Somebody must’ve left it behind at the wedding, I guess…”



“Somebody left their shirt at the wedding?” Dawn arched her eyebrows, unconsciously mimicking a certain cocky vampire.



Buffy flushed. “Guess so. I just thought it would be cold after the rain, or something…”



Dawn nodded, and turned back to her discarded book. “Looks kinda like something Spike would wear,” she mentioned casually.



She froze. “Spike? What? Why would I have his shirt?”



Her sister shrugged. “I don’t know, he’d give you anything you wanted, and you’re selfish enough take everything from him.”



And, there it was. That sidelong look of betrayal on her sister’s face. Buffy knew that Dawn loved Spike – he’d taken care of her, been an older brother to her when Buffy herself had been… Guilt flushed through Buffy once more. She suddenly realized how much she had been hurting her sister too. Dawn missed Spike, and thanks to Buffy, the two of them rarely saw each other anymore. Damn.



“Dawnie, I …” She faltered. As her sister looked up expectantly, Buffy sighed. “I – I’m gonna go for a shower, so I’ll let you get some work done, ‘kay?”



“No problem,” was her sister’s sarcastic reply.



Rubbing her eyes wearily, Buffy stood up, left the room, and slipped into the bathroom.



She tugged the black shirt off, and set it down on the vanity table. Pulling herself out if the clingy bridesmaid dress, she smiled as she recalled Spike’s frustration the night before, trying to get the damned thing off. She hopped into the shower, and let the hot water wash all her worries away.









When she was finished, she stepped out of the tub, wrapping a thick towel around herself. Thoughts of comfy pajamas and soft beds filled her mind.



“Apocalypses be damned. Buffy’s getting’ comfy,” she muttered to herself. The Hellmouth wouldn’t go crazy if she rested for once. Besides, she’d patrol later, when she’d rested a little bit.



Happy with her reasoning, she left the bathroom in search of warm clothes, when Spike’s shirt caught her eye. With a sigh, she crossed the room, and picked it up.



In her bedroom, she dried off, putting on a pair of flannel pajama pants, and a tank top. She put Spike’s shirt back on, running her fingers along the buttons. She inhaled. It smelled like him, that oddly enticing combination of tobacco, whiskey, leather, and that scent that was completely unique to him.



Buttoning up the shirt, she moved to the windows, shutting the blinds against the bright light filtering into the room.



With a contented sigh, she slid into her cold bed, and fell asleep, surrounded in Spike’s scent.











Spike parked the Desoto at the back of a lot behind an abandoned motel, and sat back in the driver’s seat, a gentle smile playing on his lips.



“Bloody hell,” he marveled, closing his eyes in memory of the previous night. He thought of the tenderness that Buffy had treated him with, the soft and gentle touches that had passed between them. For the first time in their convoluted, fucked-up relationship, it felt like she had been making love to him, answering the moves he had danced so many times with her. He had always made love to her. That he had no doubt about. But she? She had always come to him and used him, knowing that he would give his entire self to her.



“Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass…”



The quote came to the fore of his mind every time that he had thought of Buffy’s manipulation. She hated his words, hated how he broke into her unreality. So she would shut him up. Clever hands and an enticing mouth that distracted him, coaxed him away from his intents and purposes.



But last night…



That silly smile tugged at the corners of his lips once more. Last night had been momentous, a change in the dance. He inhaled deeply, the car was filled with her scent, his scent, their scent.



He reached into the back of the car and grabbed the blanket that was pooled on the back seat. Something white winked at him from the floor.



That flower that she’d worn in her hair. He cupped it in his hand, and smiled, thinking of the beautiful smile she’d given.



“It’s nice to watch you be happy. For them, even. I don’t see it a lot. You, uh… You glow.”



“That’s because the dress is radioactive.”



He pressed the soft fleece of the blanket against his lips, anything to conceal the bloody grin that was consuming his face.



God, her smell was everywhere. That had been the worst part. When she’d left him in the burnt-out shell of his crypt, even the dirty acrid stench of burning hadn’t masked her scent. It wouldn’t leave him, it had seeped into the cushions of his couch, ingrained itself in the harsh stone walls.



No amount of angry scrubbing in his makeshift shower had erased her scent from his body.

Now, he welcomed it, letting it flow through him.



Shrugging his duster on, he slipped the floral hairpin into his pocket, and held the blanket over his head. Opening the door, he jumped out, kicked it shut, and disappeared down a sewer access, landing in one of the tunnels that was closest to his crypt. Balling the blanket up, he tucked inside his jacket to protect it from the dirt and stench of the tunnel.



Reaching the large piece of metal that covered the entrance to his crypt, he tugged it back, climbing through the gap that was left.



Moving through another tunnel, he made his way back to the underground space that served as a bedroom. Removing his leather duster, he set it on the wooden weapons chest in the corner. He took of his jeans, and slid into his bed, bringing the fleece blanket with him.

He shut his eyes, and slept, waiting for night to come.











“Buffy? Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know you were sleeping…”



Buffy rolled over. “Dawn?” She mumbled sleepily.



“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just wanted to apologize for earlier, for getting annoyed with you, and all…”



Her sister sat up in the bed, shaking her head. “Not your fault, Dawnie. I know you care about Spike, I do. And I am genuinely sorry that you guys don’t get to see each other anymore. Guess it’s because… Well, I can’t think of an excuse, being as sleepy as I am.”



The former Key hopped onto the bed beside her.



“Because you’re a big poop-head?” She offered, with a mischievous grin.



Buffy sighed in defeat. “Yes, Dawn, because I am a big poop-head.”



Dawn’s eyes glittered with mischief. “I knew it!” She announced, giggling as Buffy threw a pillow at her. “Hey!”



The older girl thumped her sister with another pillow, reaching to tickle her. Dawn doubled over, squealing. “No! Buffy! No fair! You’ve got the Slayer strength! Ah! You! Cheat-er!” She punctuated each syllable with a swing of her own pillow.



Laughing delightedly, Buffy playfully shoved the younger girl off of the bed. Dawn grabbed Buffy, and pulled her down, wreaking her own revenge of tickles on the Slayer.



“Ah! Daw-awn!” Buffy shrieked, rolling over on the floor.



The quiet tap on the bedroom door went unheard as Buffy squirmed and giggled manically on her bedroom floor.



Opening the door, the visitor paused to look down at the floor, in surprise, at the cackling teenage girl, and the Slayer who was screaming for mercy – a feat that even the fiercest demon could never hope to achieve.



“Should I pop back later then?”



Both girls looked up, startled.



Buffy blinked in surprise. “Spike? What’re you doing here?”



He shrugged. “You forgot something.” Reaching into the pocket of his duster, he pulled out the floral hairpiece that had been abandoned to the floor of the Desoto.



She flushed and stood up. She took it from him, and gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”



Dawn frowned. “Where’d she leave it?”



With a quick look at Buffy, Spike remained silent.



“Uh, um… It fell out, I guess. You know, with all the rough and tumble… Of patrol! We were patrolling. In the cemetery. Me and Spike. ‘Cause that’s what we do, with the slay-age, and all that. Yes, we were patrolling.” She didn’t need to look at Spike to know he was trying not to laugh.



“Uh huh. Okay then.” Dawn shrugged, figuring her sister was probably crazy anyway. “Hey, Spike, I’m gonna make some hot chocolate, you want some?” She asked, getting to her feet.



“Sounds good, Bit,” he smiled. “But I just wanna talk to big sis’ for a mo’, yeah?”



Dawn rolled her eyes. “‘Kay, I’ll be in the kitchen.” She walked out of the room, leaving the super-beings to be alone together.



With a sigh, Spike closed the door softly behind Dawn, and looked back at Buffy. She smiled.



“Hey.”



“Hey, yourself,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of her bed.



She joined him, and folded her legs underneath herself. “Thanks, again.” She waved the hairpin in the air.



He shrugged. “No problem. Looked nice in you, figured you’d want it back.”



She just nodded.



“The rough an’ tumble of patrol, eh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.



Buffy breathed out a laugh, and shook her head, smiling. “Oh, God, my big mouth…”



He moved closer to her, and touched his fingers to her lips. “Not big, pet. Jus’ perfect.”



She grinned against his fingers. “Uh huh, sweet talker, aren’t ya?”



“An’ don’t you forget it.”



Placing her own hand on his face, she traced his cheekbone. “Do you think she knew?”



“Nah, Bit’d be jumpin’ for bleedin’ joy if she did.”



“Mm, she would.” Ducking her head, Buffy sighed. “Spike, I’m sorry that you guys don’t hang out anymore. I really am. Dawnie and me had an almost fight about it. She resents me ‘cause I get to spend time with you, and I keep you away from her.”



“Doesn’t resent you, luv.”



“Do you? You miss her.”



Spike leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “Yeah, I miss her. But nothing could ever make me resent you, pet. Love you too much, don’t I?”



“I don’t want you to resent me, but you should hate me…But that would kill me.”



He pulled back. “Yeah?”



“Oh, yeah.”



Studying her for a moment, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”



She looked down and blushed. “Your – your shirt? Oh! Look at that! It’s your shirt! Ha! Must’ve forgotten to take it off.” She gave a nervous laugh.



The corner of his mouth quirked. “So, you took of the dress, showered, and dressed again, keepin’ the shirt on all that time? Is that it, pet?”



“Maybe?” She shrugged sheepishly.



He chuckled. “Why did you put it back on?”



“I was going to bed, to get some sleep…” She gestured to the bed that they were sitting on.



“An’ what made you put it on, luv?”



“Because…”



“Buffy. Please.”



She sighed. “It smells like you,” she confessed in a whisper.



God, she couldn’t look at him. If she did, what could she possibly say now?



He didn’t let her say anything. Instead, he swiftly ducked his face down to hers, and captured her lips with his.



She responded immediately, her arms slipping around his neck as his banded around her waist. The kiss was soft, a continuation of these new tender touches. Her hand explored the curls at the nape of his neck, and Spike lost himself in the sweet and gentle way she was caressing his cool lips. As her tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, he opened willingly, and the kiss deepened, and he responded with fervor.



The next thing he knew, Buffy had pushed him backwards, sending him sprawling on his back on her bed. She leaned over him, kissing his jaw. He pulled her flush against him, burying his face in the softness of her neck. The scent of her strawberry shampoo filled his senses, drove him insane.



“Buffy…” He moaned, pulling her mouth back to his.



And they kissed. God, how they kissed.



Her hands moved, grabbing his duster, kneading the buttery leather beneath her fingers. His were exploring her waist, brushing the undersides of her breasts, burying themselves in her flaxen hair.



He rolled them over, so that he was above her. They broke the kiss, as she took a deep breath. Her gaze caught his, and she smiled.



“Buffy, I – ”



“Hey, Buffy, come down here, Xander’s back!” Dawn’s voice yelled up the stairs, shattering the moment.



They sighed in unison, and Spike moved off of her, lying beside her instead.



She looked at him with an apologetic smile. Her hand reached out and grabbed his, interlocking their fingers. She squeezed once, then let go.



“I should go; Scoobies need me and all that…”



He nodded, rising from the bed. “Yeah, guess the Whelp needs you.”



Buffy shook her head, and got up, quickly combing her fingers through her hair.



“Spike, we can finish this later, right? It’s just that they need me…”



“No, pet, it’s alright. Don’t worry. We’ll finish it when we finish it. An’ right now you need to be down there, consolin’ that git, and helpin’ him to realize that he’s jus’ made the biggest mistake of his life.”



“Right, consoling and helping. Check.” A weary smile. “We better go down there, and avoid the search party courtesy of Dawn.”



At his nod, they left the room, and headed downstairs. Xander was seated on the sofa, sandwiched between Dawn and Willow, who both wore worried expressions. The three of them looked up at Buffy and Spike’s entrance.



“Hey, Xan.”



He stood up, and enveloped the Slayer in a tight hug. “It’s really good to see you, Buff.”



She stepped back. “You okay?”



“Oh, yeah. In fact, the last time I felt so good was when the Master killed you, or when Angelus returned, or hey! When you died again. Or maybe, when the Mayor decided to become a big ole’ snake. Really can’t decide where ‘leaving-my-fiancé-at-the-altar’ rates.”



Buffy bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Xan. I can’t even begin to understand how you must feel, but why? Why would you do it? I thought you guys were happy.”



“Yeah, we were happy. But for how long?” He asked bitterly. “How many years before I ruined her life?”



“What?” Buffy frowned, confused. “Is that why you left?”



“Just learnt how to see clearly, I guess.”



She shook her head. “The demon? The one that attacked Anya?”



“He gave me a little bit of insight, yeah.” He choked a laugh, and Buffy caught the scent of beer from his breath.



“You’ve been drinking,” she accused.



“So? You’re not my mom, Buff, so don’t try and act like it. I can drink if I want, whenever I want.”



“I’m trying to help.”



“Well, don’t. Nothing you do can fix this.”



“Xander…” Willow reproached quietly.



“I’m sorry,” he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s just – I can’t figure this out. It hurts so much, and I’m trying to figure this out!”



Buffy nodded. “You don’t need to explain to us.”



“Right.” He paused. “Have you seen her?”



“Oh, uh, no,” Willow frowned apologetically. “You wanna find her?”



“I need to. Her suitcase is gone, and some of her stuff. There’s a ‘closed’ sign on the Magic Box, which… chills me to the bone.”



“She called this morning. Said she’s gonna stay away for a couple of days,” the redhead answered.



“Was she looking for me?” He was hopeful. Willow took a deep breath. “Before she left, did she say anything?”



“You mean between sobs?” Was Willow’s honest answer. “There was mostly just wheezing.”



His face fell. “I don’t know how stuff got mixed up! I blew it…”



“No,” Buffy interjected quickly, then amended it. “Well, maybe it wasn’t the best time to break up with her, but –”



“No! It wasn’t about breaking up! I love her, and, God, I miss her so much.”



Willow was confused. “So, you, uh, left her at the altar, but you still wanna…”



“You still wanna date?” Buffy finished.



“I guess. I know I’m a better person with her in my life. But things got so complicated with the wedding, and with my family, and with her demons, and what if it all goes to Hell, and forever. But then I left. And ever since, I’ve had this painful hole inside.”



Buffy glanced down at the floor, a reaction that didn’t go unseen by Spike.



“And I’m the idiot that dug it out. I screwed up real bad.”



“Yeah, you did, you ponce.”



Xander’s head snapped up, and he glared at Spike.



“Nobody asked you for your two-cents, bloodsucker.”



Spike shrugged. “Well, someone ought to tell you what a bloody git you are.”



“Spike…” Buffy sighed.



Xander stepped past her, sizing the vampire up. “Big talk, aren’t ya, Willy-Wanna-Bite.”



The blond snorted. “Oh, please. How soddin’ original. I’m not the one who’s all talk, Whelp. See, if I said I was gonna marry the girl, I bloody well would’ve, instead of runnin’ away, tail between my bleedin’ legs.”



Xander shoved Spike into the doorway. “Oh yeah? This is coming from the leech who stalks my best friend, and doesn’t seem to understand that she will never want a disgusting monster like you.”



“Guys, please…” Buffy reached out to Xander, but he pulled away.



“At least I bloody love her enough, that if she wanted me, I’d be there. You tell me I’m not a man, but I’m more of a man than you were. She loved you, and you hurt her. If you’d really loved her, you wouldn’t have done this. It’s simple.”



Raising his fist, Xander punched Spike in the jaw, sending him sprawling backwards. “You know nothing about this!”



“Nothing, really? I know that somewhere out there is a heartbroken girl, who’s jus’ seen the day of her dreams ripped to pieces by the bloke she trusted the most in the world. I know that you did love her as she loved you, but you got scared, an’ blew the whole thing to shit. I know you’re scared, mate. We all get bloody scared, when you love one person so much that you ache. When you sit and wait for them to realize you’re not what they want, an’ they leave. I think I get it with you. Your parents spend all their time hatin’ each other, an’ you think that’s what’s waitin’ for you. An’ don’t you deny it, ‘cause I spent long enough in that basement of yours to know what your family’s like. You’re scared that you’ll turn out like your da, an’ make demon-girl resent you as much as your mum resents him. So, here’s a bloody clue; if you don’t wanna turn out like your alcoholic father, quit drownin’ your bleedin’ sorrows, an’ go an’ make it right with your girl. ‘Cause you’d have to be a bloody fool to let a girl like that go.”



“But I hurt her,” Xander said hoarsely, tears filling his brown eyes. He looked away.



“Give her time. She needs to know she can trust you, an’ where she stands with you. You shouldn’t rush it, or say the wrong thing so soon. Her wounds are fresh, mate. Give her some healin’ time. Let her take the lead, but be ready to be whatever she wants you to be. It’s her turn to call the shots.”



Xander nodded, and walked into the living-room, sitting back down beside Dawn.



“Thank you,” he whispered quietly.



Spike merely nodded his head. Buffy caught his eye and smiled her appreciation.



With a clearing of his throat, Xander clapped his hands together. “So, what’s a-brewin’ in Sunnydale? Any leads on those pesky nerds?”



“Well, actually, I do have a list of any recently rented properties in Sunnydale.” Willow picked up her laptop, and scanned through it once more. “I was thinking you could check it out, Buffy.” She handed the Slayer a printed version.



Buffy flicked through it and nodded. “I’m on it. I’ll just change into some more geek-hunting appropriate clothes, and I’ll head out.”



“I’ll tag along too, watch your back an’ that,” Spike offered, leaning against the doorjamb.



“These guys are human, Spike. If they fight back, you can’t defend yourself. You’d be better off staying here.”



“Pet, you can’t expect me to let you off after the baddies. You might need back-up.”



She sighed. “Alright. Give me five minutes.”



“Five? If you’re goin’ upstairs to get dressed, you’ll be at least fifteen.”



“Shut up, Spike.”



She headed up the stairs, ignoring Dawn and Spike’s laughter.

Consulting the print-off of addresses, Buffy gave a frustrated sigh, and double-checked the seventh line. She shoved the page into her pocket, and nodded at the darkened house in front of them.

“That’s the one,” she said, turning to Spike.

He cast a look around the street, eyes narrowed as he checked for any other creatures lurking nearby. “Right then, pet. Ladies first?”

“What? So that I can look stupid when I bust down another door, and it’s not them?”

“Bloody courtesy, pet. An’ anyway, what if it is them, an’ we get attacked? I can’t go first, ‘cause I can’t fight back.”

“So, you want me to protect you? That it, huh?”

He growled impatiently. “ ‘S not what I meant. But I don’t know how handy I’d be with a bangin’ headache after I take a swing at these bloody human baddies of yours.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is exactly why I told you to stay behind! But no… You had to tag along all macho, and… and stupid! How am I supposed to take these guys out, when I’m trying to protect you?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets angrily. “Well, I thought I’d bloody look out for you, is all. Make sure nothin’ gets the drop on you. But you’re so bleedin’ high an’ mighty that you can’t see a nice gesture when it jumps up an’ bites you on the bloody behind, you stupid bint!”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not stupid. You’re the idiot who’s dumb enough to try and go after humans, even though you know you’re just gonna get your ass kicked!”

She stormed up the driveway to the front door. Behind her, Spike gave a frustrated snarl.

“What is your bloody problem? I’m tryin’ to help! An’ you’re not makin’ it any easier for me!”

“It’s not my job to make things easier for you. My job is to prevent evil and stop the bad guys running about doing evil things. And frankly, you’re getting in the way of that right now.”

“I’m jus’ tryin’ to help you!”

“By distracting me? I can’t deal with your chip firing around these guys, and making me lose concentration. There’s nothing for you to do here.”

He glared at her blackly. “Alright, then, luv. I’ll be off on my bloody way home, if that’s how you’d like it!” He turned around sharply, his duster billowing out behind him. She pulled a face at the vampire’s rapidly retreating back, and sighed.

Turning to knock on the front door, she was suddenly blind-sided from behind, as someone heavy tackled her to the wooden boards of the porch. For a wild moment, she felt fear rush through her as she contemplated the idea that Spike had lost it and attacked her.

Rolling over onto her back, she threw her legs into her attacker’s abdomen. It went flying off of her, and she took the opportunity to jump to her feet.

It charged at her again, and she caught sight of it this time. A demon with a waxy grey face, and large black eyes. She ducked his attempted punch, and tried to land her own.

However, her opponent was strong. He grabbed her and flung onto the front lawn. She winced, and tried to stand up again. Standing over her, he landed a heavy punch into her jaw, sending her sprawling onto the ground again.

As his foot crashed into her back, she choked out, “Spike!”

The demon was much too strong for her to handle on her own. She managed to roll to the side, getting to her feet. She grabbed his arm as he aimed for another punch, throwing him to the side.

Raising her leg to kick him, the demon shoved her roughly against the car parked in the driveway. As her temple collided with the metal car door, bright spots of colour exploded behind her eyes. He fisted her short hair, and slammed her face through the car window.

She cried out, and slumped to the ground. The demon stood over her, and she noticed a wet spiked skewer protruding from his forearm. Her eyes widened in alarm as he aimed it towards her.

Suddenly, a streak of flashing platinum and whirling black leather flew past her. Spike crashed into the demon, hitting it with a flurry of punches. Buffy eased herself up, and hurried over to them. Now, the demon had gained the upper-hand on Spike, sweeping his feet out from under him. Buffy tried to intervene, throwing a kick at the demon. It batted her away, punching her hard into the face.

Spike was on his feet again, and he pulled the demon away from Buffy. With the vampire wrestling the demon, Buffy caught sight of that skewer on its arm again.

“Spike, look out!” She yelled.

He glanced over to her, momentarily distracted. His opponent used this to his advantage, and thrust its weapon into Spike’s side. The vampire’s eyes widened for a moment, before he stumbled. As his body hit the ground with a dead thud, Buffy rushed over to him.

The demon kicked out at her, his booted foot connecting with her chin. She gave a weak yelp of surprise, and crumpled to the ground beside Spike. He stirred feebly, and his eyes squinted open.

“B-Buffy?” He croaked.

She shook herself, and groaned as her cracked ribs pulled in protest. “Spike, are you okay?” She leaned over him, her hand grasping his.

He gasped a weak chuckle. “Never better.” Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head, and with a shudder, he became still.

“Spike?”

Behind her, the demon approached, and slammed his foot hard into the base of her head.

Pain burst through her. She fell forward.

Everything went black…

A cold breeze rustled over the Slayer’s cheek, and she sat up, groaning as pain tore through her side. Lying beside her was an unconscious Spike. He was unmoving, still as death, which unnerved Buffy.

“Spike?” She asked, frowning. She gave him a shake. “C’mon, Spike, wake up already?”

Suddenly, she remembered the demon that had attacked them. She jumped to her feet, pain forgotten, and glanced all around the darkened lawn. There were no lights coming from the house, and the car that she’d been flung into was still in the driveway.

But the demon had vanished.

She returned her attention to the lifeless vampire, kneeling down beside him. She jostled him, but Spike remained unmoving, bearing an eerie resemblance to a corpse.

“Don’t be stupid,” she rebuked herself. “Of course he looks like a corpse! He’s a walking corpse. A walking, annoying, chain-smoking, British corpse…” Biting her lip, she rested her hand on his chest.

“C’mon, Spike,” she murmured, softly this time. She found herself running her hand up his neck, curving along his jaw, his cheek. She caressed his face gently. “Stupid vampire, wake up!” She whispered.

Looking around herself, she spotted a pay-phone across the street. She got to her feet, and hurried over as fast as her injuries would allow.

She grabbed the phone, rooting in her pockets for some coins, which she then jammed into the slot. She punched her home number quickly.

“C’mon, c’mon…pick up…”

“Hello?” Dawn’s perky voice came over the line.

“Dawn, it’s me, it’s Buffy…”

“Hey, what’s up? Did you find Warren and his guys yet?”

“What? Oh, no… Uh, is Xander still there?”

“Yeah, why? Are you okay? You sound kinda…distracted…”

Buffy paused for a moment, looking across the street at the motionless vampire. “Just get Xander, please.”

There was a rustle and a pause at the end of the line as Dawn left to fetch Xander. Buffy curled the cold metal cord of the phone around her wrist anxiously.

C’mon…

“Hey, Buffster. What’s up?”

“Xander!” She cried in relief. I need you to drive over to one of the houses on Willow’s list. Hold on…” She pulled the page out of her pocket again, and scanned down the page. “723 Franklin Avenue. Please, I need your help.”

“Sure, no problem. What happened, Buff?”

She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as it pulled at some tender patch on her temple. “I don’t know. I was about to knock on the door, and suddenly there was this demon. God, it was so strong, Xan, I couldn’t…”

“Well, where was the Bleached Wonder?”

It was amazing how quickly Spike’s kind words had been forgotten to the land of Denial once the weight of his prejudice had set in once more.

She rolled her eyes. “Spike and I had a …disagreement… He left, but he came back, and tried to help me fight. But, it was just so strong. You’ve gotta come soon.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, not really, well, kinda. But, it’s Spike. He’s…well, I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s not moving. It stabbed him with something…”

There was a pause. “What was that address again?”

“723 Franklin Avenue.”

He repeated it back to her. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” she replied softly, hanging up the phone.



Fifteen minutes later, Xander’s car pulled up across from 723. Looking over, he saw the darkened figure of Buffy kneeling on the grass, crouched beside the unconscious form of the bleached vampire. The Slayer was, as he could already see, beaten badly. An ugly gash split her forehead, and even from where he sat, the bruises swelling her cheeks were visible. By the way she was holding her arm across her chest, he assumed her face wasn’t the only injured area.

He got out of the car and headed over to her. “Jeez, Buff, what happened?”

She looked up at him. “A demon, a strong one. Really strong… I couldn’t…” She looked down at Spike.

He gestured to the vampire. “Wanna put him in the back of the car?”

She looked up at her friend in confusion. When had he ever willingly wanted to help Spike? When had any of them? But tired and worried, she swallowed her questions, and nodded. Wrapping her arms around Spike’s torso, as Xander raised his legs, they carefully carried Spike to the car, placing him into the back. Xander walked back to the front car, and sat down in the driver’s seat, waiting for Buffy to take her seat beside him. When she didn’t, he looked back to see her sitting in the back. Spike’s head sat in her lap, as she gently smoothed stray platinum curls from his forehead, murmuring soft things that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. The sight of his best friend cradling the sleeping vampire in her arms stirred thoughts from the past that he resolutely pushed away. All the same, the familiarity of the image unnerved him.

Switching on the radio, Xander didn’t speak, and Buffy didn’t offer any conversation to him, as she continued to comfort her - the - vampire in her lap. He concentrated on getting them home, ignoring the niggling thoughts in his mind that voiced things that he didn’t want to face.

When they pulled up in the driveway of 1630, Buffy hopped out immediately, gesturing for Xander to assist her. He got out and walked around to her, helping her to ease the vampire out of the back of the car. As they carried him across the lawn, a movement on the porch caught Xander’s attention.

“Ahn!” He called out as Anya walked out the front door. He let Spike’s legs drop, leaving Buffy holding all the vampire’s weight.

“Anya! Ahn! God, please speak to me!” She walked right past him, her hand held up in the air.

“Stay away from me, Xander Harris.”

“Please, Anya. Don’t do this! Please don’t do this to me!”

She whirled around, her face contorted in anger and pain. “Do what to you, Xander? Crush you? Leave you? Ruin the day you’ve been waiting for your entire life? Have the person you loved most hurt you so badly? Stop me if any of this sounds familiar!”

His face crumpled. “God, Ahn, I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am…”

Drawn by the sounds of the confrontation, Willow, Tara, and Dawn appeared in the doorway, watching as Anya shoved Xander away roughly, and walked quickly down the street, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Guys…”

Their attention was drawn to the grass, where Buffy knelt, holding a still Spike in her arms. Both were injured badly, judging by the cuts and bruises that littered their faces.

“Oh, Goddess,” Willow breathed in surprise, heading over towards them. “What happened?”

“He’s hurt, Will. We gotta do something. He just won’t wake up!” There was something in the Slayer’s eyes that Willow hadn’t expected to see – Fear, pain, worry… and something that flickered to the surface for a moment, before it disappeared once more.

“Of course, we’ll do everything we can. I’m sure he’ll be up and up to mischief in no time!”

Tara approached, murmuring a soft phrase in Latin. Spike’s body was raised upwards, levitating under her spell. Buffy gave a quick smile of thanks, and stood up, following as Tara floated his body through the open front door.

With Tara dealing with Buffy and Spike, Willow and Dawn headed over to Xander.

“Where do you want me to put him?” Tara asked.

My bed, she thought. He’ll be safe there. Warm. “Uh, the sofa, please.”

Tara nodded and gestured towards the sofa, where Spike then drifted to. Another whispered incantation, and he dropped softly into the cushions.

Immediately, Buffy was at his side, propping his head up on the cushions, running a gentle hand over the harsh bruise blooming on his jaw. Another cut had bloodied his lip, the wound still seeping. Her finger hovered over it, as she puzzled over the fact it hadn’t begun to heal yet. She frowned. “That should be fading by now.”

Moving her inspection further, she saw the outline of a bone protruding upwards underneath the cotton of his t-shirt.

“His ribs…”

Tara gave her a sympathetic smile. “He’s healing, Buffy. He just needs to sleep. And we need to get you sorted out. You should sit down.”

Uncharacteristically obedient, the Slayer sat down on the coffee table as the blonde Wiccan went to fetch a first-aid kit. Her eyes were trained on Spike the whole time.

This isn’t right. Something’s gone wrong, he shouldn’t be like this. What was that thing?

“Oh!” She jumped to her feet, whimpering as her body cramped in process.

“Buffy, sit down,” Tara chided softly, re-entering the room. “You need to heal too.”

“No, I can’t… the demon… It - it poked him.”

Xander, Willow, and Dawn entered. Xander’s eyes were red and puffed, and the redhead rubbed his arm soothingly.

“Poked him?” Dawn asked skeptically.

“I don’t know. It had a … thing. It stuck it in his side.”

Willow frowned. “Like, a weapon?”

“A skewer-y thing!”

“Rampage of the skewer-wielding demons, huh? That’s new,” Xander remarked, his strained face a harsh contrast to his falsely chipper voice.

“Remember the thing Adam had on his arm?” Her friends nodded. “It was sorta like that, I guess.”

“And it stabbed Spike with it? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I saw it!”

Buffy reached forward and raised the hem of Spike’s shirt. There, against his flawless alabaster skin, was a large purple welt.

“Ouch,” Willow remarked quietly.

The Slayer ran a weary hand through her hair, wincing as it stung. Pulling her hand back, she saw a small nick in the palm, a tiny shard of glass was embedded in it. She grimaced, and pinched it out.

“Where’s the glass from?” Tara asked, frowning.

“From when my face was introduced to a car window,” Buffy grumbled, rubbing the back of her sore neck.

“Oh, Goddess.” Tara opened the large first-aid kit, and rooted for her supplies. “Sit down, and I’ll sort you out.”

“But Spike needs –”

“Spike needs rest, Buffy. And so do you. We’ll get you fixed up, and then help him. We’ll just give him a little healing time.” The witch’s voice was uncharacteristically firm. “Now, sit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Buffy joked, giving her friend a wry smile.

Xander cleared his throat. “Well, I should go, you guys. I’ll see you later, and hope you’ll be okay, Buff. Even Vamp-Boy.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Xan. Are you okay? After the Anya thing outside?”

He feigned a nonchalant shrug. “I’m good. Me good strong man. Me no be sad.”

Buffy laughed. “Alright, Cave-Xan, if you say so.”

He nodded his goodbyes, giving Willow a hug, and left.

Willow sighed. “I feel so bad for him!”

Rubbing her eyes in weariness, Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “What happened? Why was Anya here?”

“She was dropping off the keys for the Magic Box, in case there was an emergency. We weren’t expecting you guys to be back so quickly. She was just leaving when you arrived.”

Dawn crossed the room and rested her hand on Spike’s head soothingly. “Everything’s all crappy.”

Tara smiled sadly. “It’ll work out, Dawnie. I promise.”

“Is Spike gonna be okay?” The teenager asked, fear filling her bright blue eyes.

Buffy didn’t answer. She couldn’t, not when she didn’t even know herself.

Was he gonna be okay?

“Uh, hey, let’s get those injuries sorted, huh?” Willow piped up nervously.

Buffy nodded numbly, her eyes watching as her sister stroked Spike’s hair. “Dawnie, you should go to bed,” she said quietly.

“What? No way! I’m staying down here with Spike. You can’t make me go –”

“Now,” Buffy snapped irritably, wincing as a wave of pain ran through her wrist.

Dawn glared at her. “This isn’t fair. I care about him, which is more than I can say for any of you! You can’t just cut me out.”

“Goddammit, Dawn! Just go already. I have enough hits to the head without you giving me a headache too!”

“Why couldn’t the demon have stabbed you?” Her sister yelled, before fleeing the room, and stomping up the stairs. Buffy sighed as a door slammed upstairs.

“I’ll, uh, go up and talk to her,” Willow offered awkwardly, following.

As her ex-lover left, Tara sat on the table beside Buffy.

“It’s not Dawn’s fault, you know,” she said gently.

“I know, I know. It’s just that she made me think – what if he isn’t gonna be okay?” She raised her gaze to Tara’s, her hazel eyes swimming with tears and worry and fear.

A warm, soft hand grasped hers, squeezing softly in support.

“Oh, Buffy. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Really. It’s Spike, nothing is gonna stop him. You should know, look how often you tried.”

That got a sad laugh from the Slayer. “Yeah, good point.”

“So, a car window, huh?”

“I’m really hoping the owner won’t want me to pay for repairs! But, yeah, this demon was so strong. It really did a number on us.”

“Well, let me have a look at you then.”

Buffy obliged, shrugging out of her jacket, her sore body screaming in protest at the movement. Tara saw the expression of pain on her face and hastened to help ease the article of clothing off gently.

“Thanks.”

“Where does it hurt?” The witch asked, balancing her first-aid kit on her knee.

Buffy grimaced. “Everywhere. Mainly my head, back, and wrist, though.”

“Well, we’ll get some ice for your wrist. Better get these cuts cleaned up though, and get rid of any glass.”

As Tara worked on her injuries, cleansing cuts and bandaging wounds, Buffy kept her vision fixed on Spike, looking for the tiniest hint of a movement, any small indication to prove that he was still alive – er, undead.

There was none.

Not even that persistent rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, a subconscious action carried on from human life, a hundred years before.

It was terrifying to see him so still, so lifeless. Not Spike, not that annoying, fidgety vampire. A person she would definitely tag as someone with ADHD. The kind of person who needed to move, to pace, to smoke, to fight, to fuck, to strut, to do anything rather than succumb to the boredom that came with a lack of movement.

And he was so still!

When Tara had finished, had bandaged her up, had given her a fistful of painkillers and a hot water bottle, she stood up. The witch turned her attention to Spike, gently dabbing at his cuts, her soft hands soothing his bruises. Finishing up, she tidied up, and got to her feet too.

“I should go; I’ve got a class in the morning.”

Buffy nodded. “You’ll be careful?”

Her friend opened her bag to take out a large wooden cross and a little glass bottle of holy water.

“Good. That’s good. Thanks, Tara.”

“It’s no trouble. Take it easy, okay? And keep an eye on Spike.” She paused. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

Buffy nodded, those bright fearful tears lighting up her tired eyes again. Tara gave her a hug, holding her gingerly. “He’ll be fine. But… it’s good that you care. Somebody other than a fifteen year old girl has to care about him, you know.”

“Do you? Do you care about him?”

Tara gave that cute smile of hers – one side of her mouth hooking upwards, a little quirk. “I think he’s good, and caring, and loyal. So, yes. I really do.”

Buffy smiled. “Thank you.”

“You should get some sleep, okay?”

Tara left, walking to the door, closing it behind herself, leaving Buffy in the living room with Spike.

She headed over to the window, making sure that the thick curtains were shut fully. Then she looked at Spike, sighing as she noted he hadn’t made any progress. She eased the duster off of him, folding it and laying on the coffee table. Next, his boots were removed and placed on the floor. She picked up the soft comforter from the back of the sofa, and spread it over his sleeping form, tucking it in slightly, knowing that he liked the comfort of warmth.

She pressed a chaste kiss to his swollen lip, and left the room, flicking off the light as she left.




Later that night, Willow woke to the sound of Buffy crying.

Buffy had gone to bed. She had lain there and waited for those damned pills to take effect. She tried her hardest to fall asleep, anything to keep her mind off of the vampire sleeping downstairs.

After about an hour of pained tossing and turning, sleep finally claimed her. The darkness behind her eyes shifted and colours bloomed, forming shapes.

Tara sat on the grass, knitting a long blue scarf that stretched far along the ground, twisting and disappearing off into the distance. As she heard Buffy approaching behind, she turned and gave a huge smile.

“I’m really glad you could make it.”

“It’s about damn time!” A voice grumbled from behind. Anya stood, holding a squirming rabbit. “Just ‘cause you’re the special Chosen One and all doesn’t mean you can hold the rest of us up, you know! Some of us have bunnies to sell!”

“What’s going on?” Buffy asked, squinting in confusion.

“You’re late! We were expecting you so long ago, and now you’ve ruined it!” Anya was furious. She dropped the rabbit, and glared at the Slayer as it scampered for freedom. “You ruin everything!”

“Anya, please…” Tara reproached softly, dropping her work onto the grass, before looking to Buffy. “She’s right though, you’ve messed up. You’re too late, Buffy.”

“Too late for what?”

“To feel alive! God, you’re really quite dense, aren’t you? They’re clearly not picking Slayers based on intelligence tests, huh?”

“Anya…”

“What? I can’t stay here and watch her miss out on everything! She’s damn depressing, and stupid! It’s incredibly annoying!”

“What’s going on?” Buffy repeated, losing her patience with the situation.

“You need to figure it out for yourself, Buffy. I’m sorry.” Tara stood, and reached into a bush, pulling out the white rabbit that Anya had lost. She calmed the trembling creature, and placed it back into Anya’s arms. The ex-demon hugged it tight to her chest, grinning gratefully at Tara.

“Well, I have places to be, vengeance to wreak. It’s a busy day for me. I’ll see you later, Tara. Buffy, try not to be late next time, okay?” Anya walked away, holding her struggling pet in her arms. “Fernando! Stay still, damn it!” She scolded.

Buffy watched Anya leave in amusement. As she turned to speak with Tara once more, she realized that the witch was gone. In her place instead was a familiar-looking van. She walked around to the side, and found Devon and Oz unloading stage equipment.

“Oh, hey Buffy,” Devon greeting, raising his hand in hello.

“Hi,” she waved, puzzled at the change of scene.

“Buffy,” Oz nodded. “Any chance we could borrow some superpowers to get all of this onstage?” He gestured behind himself, and her gaze followed his direction to the backdoor of the Bronze.

“Uh, sure. You guys playing tonight?”

“Willow didn’t tell you? Huh. Yeah, should be a big night. Music company guys are here.”

“Cool. Here, I’ll take that,” she offered, lifting up a large amp.

They carried their loads through the thin corridor that ran along the back of the stage. No sooner had she place her items down, Devon ushered her forward.

“Shit! We’re on!”

“Oh, good luck.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna need it. C’mon!” He grabbed her hand, pulling her up onto the stage.

Oz calmly walked to his position, bass in hands, coolly waiting to begin. Devon shoved her over to the microphone, center-stage. The spotlight was hot and bright on her face. She squinted, trying to shield her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Oz shrugged. “They’re all waiting for you, Buffy.”

“What?” She looked down and saw an avid audience staring up at her, waiting. “Oh, no, no, no! You’ve got the wrong girl, pally.”

“C’mon already! We paid good money to see this!” A voice yelled up from the audience. Xander stood, glaring at the stage. “I wanna see my money’s worth!”

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked Oz panickedly.

Another nonchalant shrug. “What you always do: Lie.”

“Lie? Lie about what?”

“Your feelin’s,” another voice offered from the balcony. She looked up to see Spike up there, the girl in front of him pressed up against the railing. Her cheeks flushed, eyes dead, but her face was unrecognisable.

“I – I don’t lie!”

“Like hell you don’t!” He looked away from her, and began to whisper sweet nothings into the faceless girl’s ear.

“Okay! Ladies and gents, the show must go on!” Somebody declared, walking out onto the stage. She recognized them as Sweets, the musical demon. “Now, my lovely audience, have we any questions for the fine Miss Summers?”

A hand shot up. “Are you even happy here?” Dawn asked, pouting dramatically, arms crossed defiantly.

“I-I … Dawn, please, I…”

“You wish we hadn’t ever brought you back, don’t you?” Was Willow’s dejected question.

“Will, please. It’s just that…”

“Or maybe, you wish you were dead still, huh? Stuck in a box, cold, unloved. Is that heaven, Buff? Would you really prefer to be there?” Xander yelled.

“Well, she always preferred dead guys. Isn’t that right, Buffy?” Riley sneered.

“One dead guy. One,” Angel stressed. “Right, Buffy? You only ever truly loved me?”

“You? Please! The Slayer may need a little monster in her man, but it’s hardly you, Peaches. She loves me, she’s just too afraid to admit it. She’s afraid of a lot of things.”

“Like how we’ll all react when we find out that Spike’s been giving her orgasms!” Anya piped up.

“Or how she’ll never get back into heaven,” her Watcher added sadly.

“Or how Spike will leave you,” Tara whispered from the edge of the stage.

Buffy stumbled backwards on the stage, horrified by their accusing, wolfish expressions. She felt bare, exposed, naked. She looked down and realized that she was. Scrambling to cover herself, she saw the Doublemeat Palace cap land at her feet.

“Put your costume on, already!” Xander shouted.

A flash of white caught her eye as Fernando the rabbit dashed across the stage. She followed him, crawling under the heavy curtain on her hands and knees to keep up.

The floor disappeared under her hands, and she fell forward, into the darkness. With a thump, she landed face down on damp grass. Her first realization was that she was clothed again. Her second was that it was now night-time. She stood up, looking down at the red velvet gown she wore. In front of her, her friends stood in a ring, their backs to her.

She shoved her way through, to the source of what was holding their attentions so fixedly. A cold marble headstone declaring her final place of rest, and a mahogany coffin were before them.

“And today, we say goodbye to Buffy Summers as we commit her heart and soul into the ground,” Mayor Richard Wilkins III lamented, throwing the Scoobies a sorrowful glance.

Panic rose at the back of Buffy’s throat and she jumped forward, yanking the lid from the coffin.

Spike lay inside the box, his face peaceful and content. His eyes slowly opened, and a sweet smile formed on his lips as he saw her.

“Buffy…”

The demon suddenly appeared, thrusting his skewered weapon into Spike’s chest. The vampire screamed her name and exploded into dust.

Buffy sat bolt upright in the bed, sweat soaking her body.

“Oh. Oh, God. Just a dream, Buffy. Get a grip.” Mildly wigged out by her freaky subconscious, she slid out of the bed, and headed downstairs.

She crept into the living room, seeing the vampire in exactly the same position. With a sigh, she headed into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water.

She noted with irritation that her hands were shaking after the dream. The feeling of her friends’ criticism, of their judgment had yet to leave her, and the final part was making her skin stand on end. The image of Spike’s body bursting into to nothing was flashing across her eyes repeatedly. She shuddered, feeling the crawling feeling of perspiration on her skin.

It wasn’t a good sign – seeing the demon again in her dreams, and he attacking Spike, killing him. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, wishing that she could speak with Giles. Her Watcher was always good with her dreams, willing to go through them patiently, offering opinions and thoughts.

But, was she really willing to dissect her thoughts about Spike with Giles? Especially given the mentions of their relationship. She decided she would speak to Tara about it that way she wouldn’t have to side-step awkward questions about herself and Spike.

With the dream still whirling about her mind, she walked back into the living room, kneeling down beside the sofa. Spike’s injuries were unchanged – neither worse nor healing – and he hadn’t stirred an inch.

She sighed, and lightly took his hand in hers. “Just came downstairs ‘cause I had a bad dream. And yes, to soothe your damn ego, yes, you were in it. It was pretty damn freaky. I think Anya had a pet bunny, called Hernando or Freddy, or something… And I was on stage, and everybody was there. I mean, everybody! It gave me the wiggin’s. And at the end, there was that demon-y thing again, and he… he killed you. Crazy, huh?”

There was no answer. Of course.

She squeezed his hand tighter. “It’s stupid really. Probably a weird dream ‘cause of all the pain meds Tara gave me. We were pretty beat up tonight, weren’t we? Strong guy – er – demon. I haven’t felt this bad since Glory. Which, I guess wasn’t really that long ago, but, still, ouch, huh?”

The silence that met her felt overwhelming. “God, Spike, wake up, please. It’s getting silly now. C’mon, you’ve proved your point: Yes, I care about you. Now wake up. Just smirk at me, or make some stupid innuendo. Anything.” Nothing. “You’re scaring me,” she admitted in a whisper.

He didn’t respond, and it killed her. His face was pale, peaceful, a terrifying echo of her dream. The irrational fear crept up on her that the dream’s events would occur – that the demon would reappear and kill him.
“Oh, God,” she murmured, screwing her eyes shut and leaning her forehead against his cool hand. “Wake up, damn you! Please!”

And out of nowhere, her fear manifested in large sobs. Painful heaving sobs that robbed her lungs of air, placed a tight vice around her chest. It was like the fortnight before as she knelt in front of the couch and wept for forgiveness, her face buried in Tara’s lap.

“You gotta wake up. Please, you can’t be like this. It’s you! Please, Spike.”

As she cried, her exhaustion overwhelmed her once more, and she sagged against the sofa, her hands still clutching his, and fell asleep.

It was this scene that Willow found when she ventured downstairs to find the source of the noise she had heard. She saw the Slayer curled up on the floor beside Spike, her hands desperately grasping his, and her face wet with tears. But she was asleep, exhausted from the day, and all the hurt it had brought them.

Instead of waking her friend up and leading her upstairs, she found herself oddly at ease with the scene. Instead of interrupting the moment, she lifted up Spike’s duster from the coffee table and draped it over her friend’s sleeping frame.

“Night, Buffy,” she whispered, returning up the stairs. “Spike.”

When Buffy awoke the next morning, she found herself still crouched beside the sofa, one hand lying across Spike’s. His leather duster was wrapped around her, the soft buttery leather smooth against her cheek. She smiled absently, wondering how it got there. Standing stiffly, she yawned, noting that it still looked pretty dark outside. A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece told her it was only a quarter past five in the morning.

She looked down at Spike. He remained unmoving, unchanged. She rubbed her tired eyes and sank onto the armchair opposite him, drawing the jacket tighter around herself, snuggling back into slumber.

The next time she woke up, Dawn was sitting on the sofa beside Spike, leaning over him, chatting incessantly, undoubtedly giving him a litany of Buffy’s supposed crimes against her.

She rose sleepily. Dawn looked up and glared at her.

“Is he awake?” Buffy demanded, hastening to check the vampire. She worriedly ran her finger along his face, down his neck, giving his shoulder a little shake. “Spike, you awake?”

Dawn scowled again. “Don’t pretend you care, Buffy.”

Buffy looked at her absentmindedly. “Go get ready for school, Dawn.”

“I’m so sick of you acting like you run the place. You’re not the boss.”

Her sister looked up at her, feeling more than a little pissed. “What? Dawn, I do run the place. I go out and work flipping burgers to make money. I clean. I pay the bills. I look after you. Not forgetting my Slayer duties! I have a lot of crap on my plate, and I don’t need this from you. Really, Dawn, I don’t! So go and get ready for school, and quit back-talking me.”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed and she turned away, running from the room again.

“Ugh!” Buffy dropped onto the edge of the sofa, beside Spike. She held her head in her hands wearily.

Willow walked in. “Is everything okay?”

Buffy looked up. “Just a Dawn-induced migraine already. God, I really don’t get her, Will!”

Her friend shrugged. “Teenagers, what can ya do?”

The Slayer smiled. “I suddenly appreciate all the things that Mom put up with so much more.”

“She must’ve been Superwoman to do it all,” Willow nodded in agreement. “So, how goes it with our patient? Any changes?”

Buffy sighed. “A world of no. He hasn’t moved once. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him!”

“Well, I have no classes today so we can do some major research, and work out this demon problem.”

“Thanks, Will.” Buffy smiled, breaking into a yawn.

“Bad night’s sleep?” Willow asked innocently.

Buffy shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“So, caffeine-y goodness is in order?”

With a laugh, Buffy nodded. “Definitely. But first I’m gonna go shower and dress.”

Once they had finally finished dressing and eating, it was time to hit the books. They had a small collection of demon texts in the house, the bulk, of course, were in the Magic Box. Willow promised that if they couldn’t find anything in the books they had, then they would visit the shop the day after. Appeased, Buffy began to delve into the dusty books, searching through account after account of various demons.

Three hours of research proved fruitless, and Buffy let the book fall onto the surface of the dining room table with a frustrated groan.

“This is hopeless! God, how many types of demon can there be?”

“Well, given the hundreds of species, not to mention the variations and interbreeding, I guess that… And that was a rhetorical question,” Willow finished sheepishly.

She threw her friend a smile. “Uh huh, yes it was. You hungry? I should put some food on. You feel like soup?”

“Soup would be of the good. Hey, don’t you have to work today?”

“Oh, I called in sick for a few days. I’m still pretty bruised this morning, and I don’t want to leave this while Spike is still unconscious. Something’s not right here. For all we know, he could wake up violent or something…”

“But, he’s chipped?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t think the chip could stop him if he was feral.”

Willow frowned. “But it did before? He was so evil before he was chipped.”

“But not wild. He was an idiot, sure, but he was never out of control, not like Angelus. Could you imagine if Angelus had ever been chipped?”

Her friend gave an involuntary shudder. “Now that’s pretty scary.”

“I just don’t know if the chip would stop him if something pushed him hard enough. We need to sort this out, and fix him.”

“Don’t worry, Buffy. We’ll work it all out in no time. I promise.”

Buffy gave a small smile, before picking up her abandoned book entitled ‘Demons Throughout the Ages’.

“Sheesh, no wonder we left all the book work to Giles. He’s the only one who’d be able to actually read this stuff. It’s so… stuffy!”

Willow nodded in agreement. “Some of these are pretty weighty. Even to me. I’d like to say it would be better to get all these texts onto the computer, but after the Malcolm incident? Gimme a book any day!”

They went back to work, studying the various descriptions, making notes in their notepad, cross-referencing, and crossing out each potential demon. The hours passed, and eventually Dawn came in. Once she realized what they were researching, she joined in, taking some of the lighter material, sifting her way through similar descriptions and images that looked like Buffy’s sketch of the demon. As the evening wore on, she excused herself to go and start her homework.

Buffy’s eyes began to blur as she skimmed the books, until a white hand reached out and traced a soft circle on the inside of her thighs. She jerked away.
“Stop it!”

He smirked, pulling his hand away. “Stop what?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You know what,” she glared, casting a worried look across at her friends. Willow was perusing a text on the stairs, Anya was dusting the counter, and Xander was hunched over a large dusty tome across the table from her. “They’ll see.”

“Not if we go into the loo?” He suggested hopefully. “Or the basement? But I really don’t fancy havin’ to fight off that bloody mummy hand. Not again.”

Buffy frowned at him sternly. “There will be no going anywhere. We have research to do!” She hissed, being careful to keep her voice down.

“Please, you’re just pretendin’ to read, pet. Your eyes are all glazed over, your mind somewhere else. What are you thinkin’ about, hmm? A cozy little crypt for two? Or, maybe you wanna go into the backroom so I can pound you into the crash-mats?”

She shuddered unintentionally. “Stop…” She whispered, her eyes falling shut.

He slipped his hand to the back of her shirt, and slid it under the hem, his palm sliding up her back slowly, but with a firm pressure. Her back arched almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, God… please, stop… the gang, they’ll see…”

Spike moved closer, his cool lips brushing against the shell of her outer-ear. “The Whelp’s asleep, Anya’s got money to count, and Red isn’t paying us any attention. So, relax, pet.”

She leaned back against his shoulder. “I can’t do this. Not here…”

His other hand was sliding up her bare leg, under the length of her skirt, brushing the soft skin of her inner thigh…

“We’ll go then. C’mon, pet, we’ll say we’re goin’ on patrol. We’ll go back to my place, yeah?”

She shook her head, lifting herself slightly, to bring the path of his wandering fingers closer to where she wanted them.

“Ah-ah,” he chided. “Now, why do you get what you want, and I don’t? Hmm? Hardly fair, sweets.”

Buffy growled, her eyes snapping open to glare at him. “I swear, I’ll stake you.”

His fingers began to trace the edges of her panties, avoiding her need. “Are you sure it’s not that you want me to stake you,” he stressed, raising his eyebrows, the innuendo evident.

She gave a sigh of frustration. “No games, Spike!”

“I’m not the one who’s playin’,” he sing-songed.

“Damn you...” she gave a half-whisper, half-moan.

“Just tell me you want me, an’ I’ll make it all better.”

“Never.”

He chuckled darkly, his other hand slipped around to the front of her shirt, his thumb stroking the lace of her bra. “Say it.”

“No…”

His hands moved a little bit faster, enough friction to make her crazy.

“Spike, please…”

“Three little words, Slayer. Not that difficult, so tell me you want me.”

The lust was becoming too much for her, and she gasped. “I. Want. You,” she breathed.

He rewarded her by pressing his hand tight against her sodden panties, putting pressure on her sensitive spot. The other hand immediately slipped away from her breast to clamp around her mouth, stifling her low moan of release. She sagged against him.

“Now, pet. Wasn’t that fun?” He smirked, removing his hands.

She shot up in her seat. “Hey, Will, we’re gonna go patrol, okay? See you later.” She jumped from the chair, dragging the grinning vampire with her.

As soon as they got outside, she pressed him up against a wall, her mouth fastened on his, kissing him hungrily.

He chuckled. “Easy now, tiger.”

“Want you,” she moaned, kissing a trail up his neck, nipping his ear.

He gave a low groan. “Oh, Buffy. God, Buffy…Buffy…”

“Buffy? Buffy?”

She started awake, her head jerking upwards. Willow was seated across the dining room table, frowning at her. “You okay? You fell asleep. We should probably finish up, and go to bed, huh?”

Buffy blinked blearily. “What? Oh, right. Sorry, Will, must’ve dozed off, I guess…”

“Yeah, we should put the books away for tonight. I’m sure Giles doesn’t appreciate drool on his precious books,” Willow grinned in amusement.

The Slayer flushed, and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oops,” she said, sheepishly, tidying up the pile of discarded books.

Willow shrugged. “At least Giles isn’t here to catch you napping. It’s one of his pet peeves, I guess.”

“One of many,” Buffy smiled.

The witch nodded, giving a yawn. “Alright, I’m gonna go to bed. Night, Buffy.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

The redhead headed upstairs, leaving Buffy in the dining room alone. She sighed, and picked up a stack of books, and carried them into the living room, putting them in the glass cabinet. Once she’d finished cleaning up, she too went upstairs, into her bedroom. As soon as she was done get ready for bed, she went back downstairs, back into the living room.

Spike’s condition was unchanged, and with another sigh, she pulled back the comforter, and slid onto the sofa beside him, nudging him over gingerly. She tucked the blanket over them both, and laid her head against his unmoving form, clutching his still hand in hers, and drifted to sleep.

The next morning brought no changes to both Spike’s state, and Dawn’s attitude. She flounced out of the house as she left for school, not exchanging a single word with Buffy, who rolled her eyes at the teenager.

“Stupid teenage hormones,” Buffy grumbled, washing the breakfast ware in the sink. Finishing up the kitchen, she moved about the house cleaning, doing chores she’d neglected for a while. Willow had some classes this morning, and wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. Buffy had decided to wait for her friend to come back before getting more books from the Magic Box, so that someone could be at the house if Spike was to awake.

She checked on him, re-cleaning his unhealed wounds, and re-dressing them. She herself had healed, and to see him completely unchanged was almost as worrying as the fact that he was still unconscious.

“Damn it, Spike,” she murmured, placing the blanket over him again.

She went to the cabinet, pulling put a book that she was sure she hadn’t read. Sitting down on the armchair, she began to read, searching for that damned demon.

A while passed and the short stack of books that she’d read had grown, when Willow and Dawn came in laughing.

As soon as she saw her sister in the living room, Dawn fell silent with a glare, and headed upstairs.

Willow frowned. “She was fine a minute ago?”

Buffy sighed. “Basically, she’s mad because I don’t have time for her whining and tantrums, so she sees that the only way to get me to have time for her again is to throw more tantrums and keep whining. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the teenage mind.”

Her friend laughed. “Well, I hope we were a little better at that age.”

“Sure, there was a world to save and whatnot. We were always a little bit occupied by fighting evil.”

“Exactly! Perfectly legitimate reasons to be upset, what with all the responsibilities! But, I get what you mean. Dawn’s been pretty overdramatic about everything. She’s overreacting a little.”

Buffy ran a tired hand across her eyes. “I just don’t have the ability to deal with this. I mean, I really can’t handle it, Will. I have all these bills, and I’ve gotta work, and keep us going. I just can’t do it!” Her voice cracked, and she ducked her face. “It’s just so hard. And now Spike’s sick, and I can’t fix him!”

“Buffy, I didn’t realize… I just didn’t… I’ll look for a part-time job, and I’ll help with the bills, Buffy, I promise. Maybe I can tutor other students on campus? I’ll help out. I just never realized…”

Buffy smiled thankfully at her friend. “God, Willow, you have no idea how grateful I am. The idea that it won’t just be me…”

Willow wrapped her arms around the Slayer. “Buffy, you just had to ask. We’d all help you, you know that.”

“I know! I was just so wrapped up in my own crap, and you guys all have your own lives and your own problems, I didn’t wanna weigh you down with all my stuff!”

“Am I right in guessing that you talked to Spike about this stuff?” Willow asked shrewdly.

The Slayer looked away, at the vampire. “I guess. It’s just easy to talk to him. It’s… different…”

“We’ll make him better, Buffy. Why don’t I go to the Magic Box and grab some books, okay?”

Buffy nodded. “I’ll fix us some food, so.”

Nodding, Willow grabbed the spare set of keys for the shop, and headed out, while Buffy started on some salad and burgers.

“Guh, I hate burgers,” she grimaced, flipping the spitting greasy patties in the pan. Hours upon hours slaving at the DMP had made her hate them, made her skin crawl at the thought of the slabs of meat, swimming in grease.

Willow came back, a pile of musty old books in her arms just as Buffy was finishing up putting the food onto plates.

“Hey, great timing. Food’s done.”

“I’ll get Dawn,” the redhead offered, depositing her books on the dining room table, and leaving.

They came downstairs as Buffy was setting the plates on the table.

“Great,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes. “Burgers. We never have these for dinner,” she complained sarcastically.

“Dawn,” Willow admonished quietly, as she and Buffy sat down to eat.

The teenager shrugged unapologetically. “I’m sick of the same crap all the time.”

Buffy’s grip on her fork tightened. She could feel the light metal coming apart in her palm, and she put it down. “Well, cook your own food then.”

“With what? The plentiful supply of good food that’s bursting out of the cupboards?” Dawn replied caustically.

This caused Buffy to grind her teeth in irritation. “Just shut the fuck up, Dawn, and eat your food, alright?” She snapped tersely.

Her sister gaped at her, before rising from the table angrily. “I’m so sick of you! I hate you!” She ran back upstairs.

Buffy sat back in her chair, eyes screwed shut in stress. “Crap.”

“She doesn’t really hate you,” Willow said, reaching for her friend’s hand.

“I know. I just keep messing this up with her. We always fought before, but now that I have to be the mom, it’s like I feel completely apart from her. I really don’t get her.”

Willow shrugged. “Just ignore her tantrums. You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll talk with her later, and I’ll try and explain everything, if you want.”

“You can try, I guess. She wouldn’t listen to me, anyway.” Buffy sighed, pushing her salad around her plate with her fork.

“You should eat, Buffy. C’mon, we’ll get finished up here, and then we’ll hit the books. I picked up a few on venomous demons and some on vampire medicine.”

“There are books on medicine for vampires?” Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Sure, like a Grey’s Anatomy for the undead, I guess.”

Buffy nodded. “It’s worth a shot. You think it could be a venomous demon?”

Her friend shrugged once more. “It’s a possibility. I mean, it did stab him, maybe it was injecting him with something. We’ll have a look.”

They finished their food in silence, and Dawn’s plate remained untouched on the table. Once finished, they grabbed the books and headed into the living room.

Willow took the armchair, curling up with a large leather-bound book entitled A History of Mystical Maladies. She grinned at Buffy. “It makes me think of the books in Hogwarts.”

Buffy frowned. “I never get those cultural references, I didn’t read the books.”

“Heathen,” Willow accused playfully, shaking her head.

The Slayer grinned, picking up a book on various demon venoms. To her surprise, she recognized a few pictures, but not the names. Giles knew the names, she just knew how ugly they were. She flicked through the pages, running her eyes over the drawings. Nothing resembled the large shiny head of her demon, with its bulbous eyes. Though, a few did have weapons coming out of their arms, most seemed to have more than one blade. She sighed in defeat, leaning back in her chair.

“Why is this guy so hard to find? Have you got any-”

She was cut off as Anya suddenly burst through the front door, and skidded to a stop in front of them. Buffy leapt to her feet, already reaching for the axe hidden under the sofa. Poised and ready for danger, she glanced around.

“What is it?”

“Somebody stole from the Magic Box!” Anya exclaimed, panicked.

Buffy relaxed, replacing the weapon back to its original space.

“There’s books missing! I went over to collect some stuff I’d forgotten, and there’re books missing! Gone! Somebody took them!” She turned to Willow. “You were supposed to be watching the place, damn it!” She accused.

The redhead looked surprised. “Uh, I was watching the shop. Nobody stole anything, Anya.”

“Oh yeah? Well, then explain how-” Anya’s eyes caught the large pile of books on the coffee table. “You thief! You lying thief! How could you just stand there and tell me nobody stole anything, and have all the goods sitting right there on the table?”

“But we didn’t steal them! We borrowed them! It’s for research purposes.”

“Honestly, Willow. I really thought you would be above stealing. I thought it was more Dawn’s thing, but I guess not! I should’ve known to watch you! It’s always the quiet ones!” Anya reproached.

Willow huffed her indignation. “Now wait a minute, missy! You can’t just-”

Buffy interrupted, stepping between the two women, hands raised. “Guys, relax. Anya, we had to borrow the books for a little while today. Spike got attacked by a demon, now he’s in some sort of mystical coma. We just wanna figure out how to help him.”

Anya sighed impatiently, crossing her arms. They knew her stance well, the reluctance to join in and give in her argument. “Well, what kind of demon was it?” She asked stiffly.

The Slayer shrugged. “There lies the problem. We have no idea. Here’s a drawing though.” She handed Anya the pencil sketch of their assailant.

Giving the page a reluctant glance, Anya gave a sigh of frustration. “C’mon, people! It’s a wonder you’re able to save the damn world, and you can’t even identify a Glarghk Guhl Kashma’nik! It’s basic demonology!”

“A what?” Buffy frowned in confusion.

Willow turned to her. “I’m not sure that was the name, I think she might have sneezed?”

“A Glarghk Guhl Kashma’nik? Of the common Polgara breed? Surely that rings a bell?” Anya cried.

“Polgara? Yeah, I remember them from the Initiative. But what does this Glargon Ash-y Mick guy do?”

The ex-demon sighed. “A Glarghk Guhl Kashma’nik. Known for their hallucinogenic venom. If they sting you, you have your ideas of reality fragmented, distorted. It drives you insane until you finally snap and choose one reality. Usually, the victim chooses the false world, and uses desperate measures to rid themselves of reality. I’ve seen cases when victims would burn their homes to the ground, or even murder their family and friends to detach themselves. It’s pretty strong.”

“So, Spike’s hallucinating?” Buffy asked, looking down at the sleeping vampire in horror, wondering what images could be tormenting him to insanity.

“No. It only affects humans in that way, and they will be awake and lucid for some of the time. The rest, they can be awake and active, but their mind elsewhere. It’s complex.”

“Then, what’s wrong with Spike?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Anya bit her lip, uncharacteristically tactful. “It’s different with vampires…”

“How different?” Buffy demanded.

Anya swallowed.

“It’s fatal.”

Previously:

The ex-demon sighed. “A Glarghk Guhl Kashma’nik. Known for their hallucinogenic venom. If they sting you, you have your ideas of reality fragmented, distorted. It drives you insane until you finally snap and choose one reality. Usually, the victim chooses the false world, and uses desperate measures to rid themselves of reality. I’ve seen cases when victims would burn their homes to the ground, or even murder their family and friends to detach themselves. It’s pretty strong.”

“So, Spike’s hallucinating?” Buffy asked, looking down at the sleeping vampire in horror, wondering what images could be tormenting him to insanity.

“No. It only affects humans in that way, and they will be awake and lucid for some of the time. The rest, they can be awake and active, but their mind elsewhere. It’s complex.”

“Then, what’s wrong with Spike?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Anya bit her lip, uncharacteristically tactful. “It’s different with vampires…”

“How different?” Buffy demanded.

Anya swallowed.

“It’s fatal.”


Buffy blinked, trying to focus, but her mind was spinning too quickly for her to get a grasp on sense. Instead, her legs weakened, and she dropped to the edge of the sofa, staring at Anya in confusion.

“What?”

Anya wrung her fingers anxiously. “It’s different, you see, to humans. They aren’t like us. Certain toxins and poisons from demons that would have a specific effect on us, if they infect a vampire or demon, they’re usually lethal. I’m sorry.”

Buffy shook her head. “That can’t be right. He can’t be dying. He’s not dust!”

“Well, maybe it didn’t work on him?” Willow offered feebly.

“It’s a slow-working death. Usually, for vamps, they end up in a coma, and the venom will move about their body, infecting cells like a virus, and then eventually, they burn up the borrowed blood store. It sends an inferno through their body, setting them aflame from the inside. Then they’re dust,” Anya told her bluntly, but with an apologetic expression.

It was a horrific thought, the idea of it eating Spike up from inside out, scorching him until he exploded into ashes. It seemed so… painful, so wrong. Spike was a warrior, like her. He deserved a brave death in battle, while fighting with all he had. Not days later, unconscious on her sofa.

It was wrong.

“We’ll fix him,” she told them determinedly. “Anya, how do you cure it?”

The blonde shrugged. “I’ve never seen it actually cured. I just see the insane humans and dead demons. I’ve never had to know the cure.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”

But the Slayer was shaking her head. “We’ll fix him,” she repeated firmly. “Anya, write down that name on the drawing, and Willow start looking him up. I’ll get that vampire book and look up poisons.”

Both complied, and as Buffy and Willow began leafing through their books, they noticed Anya standing there expectantly, having finished her task.

“What?” Buffy asked.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She offered.

Surprised, Buffy nodded. “You can help Willow.”

Nodding, Anya knelt on the floor, and grabbed a book.

Sometime later, Dawn stomped down the stairs, and was heading to the kitchen when she noticed the trio assembled around the pile of books.

“Anya? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Willow swallowed. “Dawnie, you should sit down. We need to tell you something.”

With fearful apprehension, Dawn sat on the edge of Willow’s chair. “What is it?”

Buffy cleared her throat. “It’s Spike.”

Dawn looked up in worry, her previous resentment forgotten. “Did you find out what’s wrong with him?”

“It’s poison. From the demon.”

“Well, you can cure it, right? Find an antidote?”

“We’re looking,” Buffy assured her.

“And if you can’t?”

“He’ll die,” Anya said quietly.

“We’ll find it,” Buffy growled. “We have to.”

The others watched her in silence as she tried to focus her concentration on the book for a moment, but failing, slammed it shut in frustration. Anya didn’t even reprimand her on the potential damage of the tome.

She turned in her seat at the edge of the sofa, and grasped Spike’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “We’ll find it, I promise,” she murmured in a hushed tone to the vampire, shutting her eyes.

Her friends said nothing, but continued their work quietly. Dawn herself took a book, and began to search for the name scrawled on the demon’s sketch.

Buffy leaned forward, and brushed her fingers across his injured face gingerly. “I promise.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from him suddenly. The idea that he might not get better, that she would lose him, that he would die, it terrified her. All of a sudden, she realized his importance in her life, realized that his loss would be too much for her. Not now, not when everything felt good, and was beginning to improve.

God, not now.

The thought of him being absent in her life hurt. Every other had left her: Her father, Angel, Riley, and Giles. Parker hadn’t even deemed her worthy enough of more than a night.

But Spike, Spike made her feel as though she could have so much more, and that she deserved it. He looked at her as though she had set the world spinning, and created the moon and stars herself. He would give his life for her over and over again, just so that she wouldn’t have to hurt, and he’d protect the ones she loved in order to protect her. He would give everything he was and had to her.

He loved her.

She knew it. Of course she knew it. She’d known it when he was willing to give his life to Glory to protect her and Dawn. When he spoke those final words the night she died, as he accepted she would never love him back. When she walked back down those stairs after one-hundred-and-forty-eight days, and saw the look on his face. She knew it in every touch, and kiss, and look, and in moment they were together.

And it scared her.

She was the Slayer. The one in every generation. The one would have the strength to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.

Alone.

She was always supposed to be alone, and every time she had tried to be with somebody, it ended badly. And now, she had found somebody who was her equal in every way – he matched her strength, her skill, her power. She never had to hold back with him. She could rely on him to give her support, strength. For a while after she was brought back, he was the only one she could speak to honestly. He understood her, and she could show him how miserable she was, which she couldn’t with her friends. Ah yes, her friends. Even if she chose Spike, who perfectly matched her, her friends would have something to say about it. And they would fight to make sure she wouldn’t be with him. They would judge her, and bully her, until she gave in. Until she gave up.

It was so frustrating, so suffocating. Being with Spike honestly did make things simpler, and she felt happier with him. When she wasn’t trying so hard to block him out, he made her laugh, he was sweet, he made her stronger. To think that he might not be there anymore, that she would lose him…

She stood up suddenly, rushing out of the room

“You okay, Buffy?” Willow asked, following after her friend quickly.

Buffy went through the back door, sitting on the steps. “It’s fine, Will.”

Hesitantly, the witch sat down beside the Slayer. “But it’s not. Is it, Buffy? You can tell me.”

The blonde shook her head wearily. “I can’t lose him. I just can’t. Not now.”

Swallowing, Willow turned to her friend. “Buffy, is there something going on between you and Spike?”

Buffy’s head snapped up. “Why do you think that?”

“You’re crying.”

The Slayer frowned in confusion, and swiped at her face, realizing that there was tears slipping down her cheeks. “I didn’t even know.”

“So, is there?”

She sighed. “Um, yes. I’m, uh… I’m sleeping with Spike.”

Willow blinked. “Oh. Oh, well, um… Oh.”

Buffy sighed. “Yeah, big oh.”

“How long?”

“Um, about a week after you and Tara broke up, I think.”

“Wow, you kept it a secret that long?”

With a shrug, Buffy looked down. “I didn’t want to face you guys. If you all knew, you’d be so disappointed in me. I mean, you guys hate Spike, and after everything with Angel…”

“Buffy! You shouldn’t be hiding things like that just because you think we’re gonna be disappointed! God, we’re your friends and we love you. You should be afraid of what we think. Does Spike make you happy?”

Buffy swallowed. “He makes me feel like it’s okay to be me, like he doesn’t expect me to have to be anything more. I can forget with him, forget how unhappy I am, or how hard things are. He makes everything easier.”

“Do you care about him?”

“I do. I didn’t want to, but I really do. We need to fix him, Will. I don’t think I could take it if I lose him now.”

Willow shook her head vehemently. “You won’t! We’ll make him better, Buffy. We’ll find out everything about this demon.”

Buffy nodded, running her hand through her hair. “Thanks, Will. For not, you know, freaking out. Also, um, don’t mention this to the others, I don’t really want them knowing this yet. Only Tara knows.”

Her friend frowned. “You told Tara?”

“It just came out. I was upset because I thought that I was… That I was wrong, and I asked Tara because I didn’t want you guys to know about this. I’m sorry.”

Willow stood up. “I understand, Buffy. It’s okay. Now, we’ve got a vampire to fix.”

With a grateful smile, Buffy got up and followed her friend inside. In the living room, they were surprised to see Tara sitting on the coffee table, checking Spike’s bandages.

“Hey,” Buffy smiled, sitting beside her.

“Hi Buffy. Sorry I haven’t been around, I’ve been looking up some spells to help Spike.”

“Any luck?”

“Sort of. I was thinking of trying something similar spell to what Willow used for you when Glory took Dawn.” Tara flashed a sweet smile at her ex. “Basically, I could enter his mind, and see if anything’s keeping him from waking.”

“You’ll be inside his mind?” Buffy asked, grimacing.

“Oh, not like running around wherever I want. It’s up to his subconscious where I go. I can only see where Spike leads me to.”

“Do you think it’ll help wake him up? What about the poison?”

“Poison?” Tara asked in confusion.

“Oh, we found the demon!” Willow said, grabbing the page with its name.

Anya gave a cough.

“Er, Anya found it,” Willow amended. “She recognized the demon.”

“And it’s a poisonous demon? It poisoned him with the spine?”

At Willow’s nod, Tara frowned. “What will happen if we can’t get the antidote?”

“He’ll die.” Buffy’s voice was hollow, empty. Tara looked at her in concern.

“Well that means we’ve got to hurry and find the antidote. Anything so far?”

Dawn sighed. “No, so far we got nothing in the books. Except similar demons, and it was mentioned when they spoke about some species. Um, po-something…”

“Polgara,” Anya offered, absentmindedly, staring at the book in front her with disinterest. “They’re from the Polgara breed, which is a species of demons that can produce spikes and skewers from their arms and hands as a weapon. Some are poisonous, others are just used for stabbing.”

“So you haven’t found anything about the antidote in the books?”

“Nope, just mentions of its breeding patterns, physical appearance, and the fact that it’s venomous.”

Tara nodded. “Willow, have you looked on-line yet?”

The redhead shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I can do that now, while you’re doing your spell. Dawn, Anya? Can you two keep going through the books? Keep looking for anything we can use.” She headed out to the dining room and sat down at the table, booting up her laptop.

Tara looked at Buffy who had fallen silent, her small hand reverently stroking Spike’s hair. “We’ll fix him, okay?”

“I hope so.”

Slipping her arm around the Slayer’s shoulder, Tara gave her a gentle hug. “I promise I will do everything I can to make him better.”

Buffy nodded. “Thank you. So, are you ready to start this spell?”

Tara pulled away and opened up her bag, and set out a large purple candle, and a zip-lock bag of verious herbs. She knelt to the ground, beside the coffee table and lit the candle.

“Buffy, you need to make sure you aren’t touching Spike or me for this.”

Buffy stood up and moved away, but she looked alarmed. “Why? Is it dangerous?”

“No, but I need to be holding his hand to access him through the spell. I don’t want you to get in contact, and allow your essence to mix with his. Your minds would become jumbled and disjointed. It wouldn’t help the spell at all.”

Nodding, Buffy stood back, and watched as Tara opened up the bag of herbs and pulled out a thin sprig of a greenish plant, tinged with purple. Dipping the tip of it into the flame, she closed her eyes, grasping Spike’s hand.

“Goddess of knowledge, I ask thee, grant me access to his mind. Allow me passage in to the depths of his subconscious as I intend to heal him. Grant me access, I ask thee.”

Buffy watched as the candle flickered and a wisp of purple smoke streamed through the air, from the plant, and drifted up Spike’s nose.

With her eyes screwed shut, Tara frowned in concentration. Dawn, Anya, and Buffy were still now, their gazes focused on the witch, waiting for her spell to take effect.

A beat of silence passed, and Tara’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes opened.

The Slayer looked at her expectantly. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. It didn’t… It didn’t w-work.” She let go of Spike’s hand.

Shaking her head, Buffy moved closer. “What do you mean?”

The witch bit her lip. “I couldn’t see anything. Nothing happened. The connection w-went out to him, but it d-didn’t respond. I’m s-sorry…”

Buffy wrapped her arms around her friend. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Maybe the spell didn’t work ‘cause we were all here? Maybe we corrupted it?”

“I don’t think so…”

Willow appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”

“It didn’t work. Tara said that Spike’s mind didn’t respond to the spell.”

Willow looked at her former girlfriend. “Are you sure?”

“It didn’t reach him. It was like before…”

With growing unease, Buffy looked at the two witches, who both looked shaken by this. “Like before? Before what?”

Swallowing, Willow looked up at the Slayer. “Before we brought you back, we did some spells, you know, to see if we could reach you, find you…” Willow paused, and looked down. Buffy didn’t like where this was going. “We tried this spell, hoping we could tap into your essence wherever you were, find out how you were, and let you know we were trying to get you back. But we couldn’t get to you, the spell was fine, but there was no response. We kept hitting this wall, this blank…”

“What… What does it mean?” Buffy asked, instinctively moving closer to Spike.

Tara took a deep breath. “Buffy, the reason we kept hitting that wall was because you were… Well, um, it means that…”

“Buffy,” Willow said, “it happened because you were dead. I – I think that Spike…”

“Spike’s dead…” Buffy finished.

“I think so,” Tara told her honestly, tearfully.

Buffy shook her head. “The spell’s wrong. Spike is already dead! He’s a vampire for God’s sake! I mean, the spell isn’t right for him, maybe? Maybe we can find a more vamp-friendly spell? Something that senses the undead. You know? And as for his “essence”, that’s his soul, right? Well, he doesn’t have a soul for you to find. So we just try a different spell and work from there.”

Tara frowned sympathetically. “That could be it, Buffy. Maybe it’s off because he’s a vampire. But it was a very obvious absence, and I am concerned. But I can keep working on some spells, maybe alter this one so it’s more, um, vamp-friendly…”

The Slayer nodded. “Good. That’s good. We can fix this. We just need to keep thinking. Anya, how much time do you think we have left?”

The former vengeance demon looked uncomfortable. “Not much. From what I’ve seen, it won’t be long until Spike’s a big ole’ pile of ashes. You might want to move him somewhere less flammable than the sofa. Repairs after a fire in here would be needlessly costly. So, we could move him, and it’ll save you some cash when he does go up in flames?” She offered, clearly thinking she was being helpful.

Running a hand through her short hair, Buffy turned away from Anya, and looked down at Spike. “It’s not going to get that far,” she said through gritted teeth. “I won’t let it.”

With a supportive smile to her friend, Willow returned to the dining room, and started perusing all possible leads and links on-line to help with their demon problem.

A few minutes later, Buffy dropped into the seat beside her, her face cradled in her hands.

“What Anya said, she didn’t mean it, Buffy. She was just being, well, Anya.”

Smiling slightly, Buffy looked up. “I guess somebody has to think like that.”

Willow knew that her friend would refuse to entertain the idea that they might fail, she had seen it time and time again, the most recent being the threat of Dawn’s death. In the end, she had laid down her own life instead. No, the Slayer would never ever allow any of them to meet their deaths, not if there was something she could do to stop it.

“Well, she can be as negative as she likes, but in the meantime, we can keep looking.”

Buffy smiled at her gratefully. “Yup. Okay, I’m gonna go rejoin the guys and help with the book research. Let me know if you get anything.”

She stood up and headed back into the living room, and sat on the edge of the sofa once more, picking up a book. Tara had joined Dawn on the floor with her own text, as Anya perused hers from the armchair. Again, more time passed on, and they kept looking, until an excited Willow rushed into the room.

“Buffy, I found him. I found the demon. See?” She held up a printed sheet with a diagram of the demon, and its name underneath. “This is it?”

The Slayer nodded eagerly. “What does it say? Does it mention the cure?”

Willow smiled. “See? It’s gonna be okay. It’s pokey stinger carries an antidote to its own poison. We just need to find him, and get the antidote. I can brew it up, and Bob’s your uncle, we can save Spike.”

Buffy smiled widely. “That’s great news. Thanks, Will. Well, I guess I’ve got me a demon to catch. Dawnie, can you clear out a space in the basement for me please? We can chain the demon up there.” She headed upstairs to change into more patrol-appropriate clothing. When she came back downstairs, Willow was just hanging up the phone in the kitchen.

“I called Xander, he’s gonna meet you at Willy’s with the truck. I figured you might need some back-up.”

“Thanks. Have you got everything you need for the cure? Other than the antidote, obviously.”

“Me and Anya are gonna run by the Magic Box and pick up a few ingredients needed. I think it needs some Burba weed.”

“Good, Spike likes that. He puts it in his blood, makes it spicy, he says,” Buffy said absently, tying her hair back.

Willow was a little surprised at this, and Buffy hadn’t taken any notice of what she’d said herself, not realizing how many small bits of information on the vampire she had collected.

“Okay, I better go. See ya. Wish me luck,” Buffy said, heading out of the house.



Fifteen minutes later, Xander’s construction truck pulled up on the street across from the demon bar. Buffy was waiting on the pavement outside.

Xander got out, and headed over to her. “Hey, Buffster. If it isn’t my favourite neighbourhood Slayer. Will says you need my muscle.”

Buffy grinned. “And your truck. We gotta demon to get.”

He clapped his hands together. “Well, let’s go rough up some of the patrons of this fine establishment then.”

She laughed. “Sorry, Xan. Already done. Didn’t take much to wheedle out info on this demon. He’s as much a threat to the demon population as he is to us. I think they’re sorta glad I’m doing my job. For once.”

“Aw man. And here I was looking forward to being all intimidating…”

“Well, we can put your master skills of intimidation to use as we knock this thing out, chain him up, and haul his pokey self back to my basement.”

“Good plan. So where to?”

“Apparently, it’s set up shop in the woods to the west of the cemetery. It’s always the cemetery with the bad guys, why can’t they be original for once?”

“Ah, but Buff, then we couldn’t enjoy the wonderful Hollywood stereotypy. C’mon, get in the truck, we can drive over. I’ve got my tranq’ gun in the back. It’s a capture mission, right?”

“Affirmative,” Buffy sighed. “We better get this over with. Gotta get that antidote,” she said, getting into the passenger side.

“Right,” Xander said, carefully. “That antidote. For Spike? Tell me again why we’re getting an antidote for him? Why not just let him die?” He started up the truck.

“He’s one of us,” Buffy replied, quietly, staring out the window.

Pulling out onto the empty street, Xander shook his head. “He’s really not, Buff. Remember, evil soulless vampire? How hard did that demon hit you?”

“Xander, don’t. Spike is one of us, and he has been for a long time. Deal with it.”

“But how could he be one of us, Buffy? I just didn’t think you of all people would be going to all this trouble to save the Evil Undead.”

“What do you mean ‘me of all people’? And it’s funny how you forget that Anya was a vengeance demon for a thousand years, and you still told us we had to accept her. Spike is one of us, like Anya is, whether you like it or not. If it was Anya, if she had been poisoned, would you want me to tell you not to save her?”

“You’re the Slayer! You’re supposed to kill vamps, not save them. And as for the Anya thing, that’s different. I love her, and she’s human now. You can’t compare the two situations.”

“I’m going to save one of my friends, Xander. I know you don’t like him, but he helps us, and he really is one of us. I’m not gonna let him die.”

“Alright, I’ll help. I’m not happy that you think he’s your friend. But if it’s important to you, I’ll help. Anyway, we’re here. You wanna get out, walk? He might hear the truck if we go closer.”

“Sure,” Buffy said, climbing out as Xander pulled the truck over. He followed her, grabbing the tranquilizer gun from the bed of the truck. She picked up the chains, slinging them over her shoulder. As Xander switched his flashlight on, he looked over at her.

“No weapons, Buff? Not even a blunt object?”

“Don’t wanna risk hurting the demon so much that the antidote doesn’t work. Just wanna knock it out cold.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

They walked through the dark woods, a mist surrounding them. Xander’s flashlight cut through the fog, lighting a path for them as they walked.

“So, this demon guy? Any special powers I should know about?” Xander asked casually.

“Yeah. It’s pokey-stinger thing? Stay the hell away from it. It’ll make you go all hallucination-y, and it creates some alternate reality in your brain.”
He nodded. “Is that what’s up with Spike?”

Her mouth tightened. “No. No, it’s just killing him. It affects demons differently.”

Xander sighed, and pulled her to one side. “Buff, look, sorry I’m being a jerk. If you really feel that he’s one of us and you, uh, care about him enough that you’re trying so hard to save him, then I can be okay with this. Really. I mean, he’s not totally an asshole all of the time, I guess. When you were…gone, he stuck around and really helped us out. And yeah, I can see he does care for you and Dawn. So, I know I sounded kind of dumb back there, but Buffy, I’m willing to help. Okay?”

Buffy gave him a shaky smile. “Thanks, Xan, that means a lot to –”

They were interrupted as the demon suddenly leapt into the clearing. Xander yelped in surprise, stumbling back. Buffy tensed, and struck out at the demon. It ignored her and sent Xander flying to the ground with a heavy blow. She barreled into it, tackling it. With a strong punch to its jaw, she kept it on the ground, restrained. Another punch.

Rising on one knee, Xander raised the tranquilizer gun and fired it at the demon. The dart struck it, but it didn’t react. Buffy thumped it once more. It retaliated, knocking her off, and kicking her into the stomach. She staggered backwards, losing her footing.

Xander stepped forward, striking the demon with the butt of the gun. It floored him once more, and Buffy jumped in, punching it repeatedly.

“Why. Won’t. You. Give. Up?” She asked through gritted teeth, a blow for each word.

She kicked it, pushing it away from her, giving Xander a window of opportunity to re-fire the gun. The dart landed in its torso again, but had no effect once more. Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, Buffy leapt onto its back, and propelled it forward, bashing its head against a tree. With one final hit to the back of its head, Buffy managed to knock it out cold. It slumped to the ground, and she moved away, breathing heavily, rubbing her tender abdomen.

A panting Xander appeared behind her. “I altered his reality,” he joked breathlessly, gesturing towards the demon. “Get it? I…” At her raised eyebrows, he sighed. “Never mind.”

“C’mon, Mister Funny, help me chain him up,” she said in amusement.

She retrieved the chains that had fallen to the ground when the demon had ambushed them, and began to secure the demon in them. When they finished, they dragged the bound demon back to Xander’s truck, and tossed him in the bed.

As they drove home, Buffy watched the demon anxiously, praying to whoever was up there and listening that this would work.