And then Buffy was kissing him. In a few of Spike's many fantasies, it happened like this - she'd follow him out, throw herself on him (preferably in view of the idiot Scoobies.) Then they'd be making the beast with two backs in his crypt, noisily and for a long time.

But this wasn't like that, at all. It was just the two of them, no Scoobie gasps of horror or Gilesy sputtering. Buffy's kiss wasn't hot and sexual, it was a little frantic and maybe - oh, lord - desperate. So Spike did what he never, ever would do in his fantasies and would damn well curse himself for later, and put his hands on either side of Buffy's face and stopped kissing back. She stared at him, and he expected to see visions of staking him dancing in her eyes from the embarrassment and anger. But instead she looked confused, and then bleak. Lonely. A look that slayed in its own right - how many times had he seen this vulnerability since she came back from the grave? When before the tower, and Glory, it had been never. It hurt him, seeing the warrior in Buffy leached out. Without thinking about it then, Spike leaned back in for a quieter, tender kiss. He left one hand on her face and slid the other down to her birdlike shoulderblade, his long fingers stroking it. Their lips just lay for a moment, warm on each other. Buffy pushed into him a little and Spike used his tongue to trace the outline of her mouth. It was the kind of kiss he'd dreamed of when he was William the inexperienced twat: sweet, slow, but incredibly arousing. He couldn't help himself and drifted his hand down her back to the top of her perfect ass, not squeezing, just floating. But then Buffy flicked her tongue into his mouth and made a little sighing sound and that was it. Spike went rock hard and he pulled her into him, moaning at the sensation of her body against his. It lasted for just a moment, until Buffy registered his stiff cock announcing itself and pulled back.

Instead of the disgust - for him, and herself - Spike expected to see in Buffy's eyes, he saw bewilderment, lust, and a hint of humor. She flicked her eyes down and then looked back up with a definite smirk. He was almost annoyed, but then charmed by the immaturity of that response to his very obvious erection. When did Buffy ever get a chance to be a silly 20-something?

And as if on cue, a bunch of silly somethings came tumbling out of the building behind him, for once not shrieking about something. They all looked subdued still, by the revelation of Buffy's having been in heaven. Nonetheless the idea of being around them after whatever just happened between him and Buffy nauseated Spike, so he looked at her once and left as quickly as he could. He wanted to get back to his crypt. He wanted to think, he wanted to imagine that Buffy might care for him, he wanted to watch Passions. Then his own smirk came to Spike's face, because most of all right now, actually, he wanted to have a good wank.

***************

The next evening Spike had done all those things, more than once. He'd also poured a handle of whiskey down his throat and killed a few fledglings in the cemetery and still just wanted to go see Buffy. He could, he knew he could, he could ask if she wanted to patrol and the Scoobies would be none the wiser - although they might try to come and then he'd have to kill them, and then Buffy would stake him and then he'd never get to kiss her again. It wasn't the bloody whelp and the witch keeping him here, though. It was the idea that he might get to 1630 Revello Drive and she would look at him, cold and wanting to pretend it never happened.

"It was a mistake, Spike," he mimicked in a falsetto. Boy, couldn't he just hear that tripping off the Slayer's tongue. If she even deigned to reference the kiss at all. Which she probably wouldn't. And then they'd be back to being platonic chums, with Spike helping kill a few things at opportune moments and Buffy telling him stuff she couldn't bear to tell her friends. Because she loved them, and he loved her. Fuckitall. But wait, his inner hopeful self reminded him, she had kissed him - of her own volition. And that look at the end, it was complicit, it acknowledged his desire, and maybe hers too?

"Getting fuckin' delusional, you wanker," Spike muttered to himself. Striding around the top level of his crypt, he did it again: rehashing the kiss with Buffy, picking apart every little twitch of her lips and remembering her expressions over and over. He played that last moment when he met her eyes in his head. She didn't seem to want company anymore than he did, or was she relieved? Suddenly in a moment of self-disgust at what a nancyboy he was being, Spike grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and headed for the door. Revello it was. Even if the superfriends were there, he was well within his rights as a mean nasty vampire with a jones for the Slayer to skulk around her house at least, wasn't he?

By the time Spike got to Buffy's, though, he realized how late it really was. The windows were dark and even his vampiric hearing detected no voices or movement. Buffy must have already gone patrolling and was sleeping in her little pink and white room, the sleep of the righteous. Spike spared a moment for indignation that the bint hadn't swung by his crypt, if she was patrolling and all, but didn't dwell on it for too long.

Lighting a fag and leaning on his usual stalking tree, Spike mused that he was much more rational outside of his crypt. On serene Revello drive, in the deep quiet of night - even in Sunnydale, you could feel that silence sometimes - he could see that kiss for a little more of what it was. Buffy liked him, against her will. She liked him enough to talk to him, and drink with him, and she trusted him more and more every day. He had taken care of the Niblet all summer long, and although she never said a proper thank you, he could tell it had softened her towards him. Spike was going out of his way to be - what was that new touchy feely phrase? - emotionally available, to Buffy, in a way the Scoobies just weren't. Too wrapped up in their own garbage, the whingeing whelp and the ex-demon with the sharp honest tongue, the witch steeping herself in magic and her lover beginning to be wary, the librarian itching for a way out. Spike preened for a moment. He liked having one over on the bloody gang, with Buffy and with Dawn. He knew Dawnie missed him, was annoyed by his absence. And, well, he missed her sometimes too. A swarm of resentments hit him over the way that things had shaken out. In an unbiased world, his ass would've been in on that couch tonight, watching movies on the telly with his girls, soulless or not.

But these things take time, reminded the sensible voice of rustling tree leaves and night air. What that kiss had meant was that he had a chance. If he rushed it, if he pushed, if he assumed, that chance would disappear. Not fair really, considering the berks Buffy had dated in the past, but the reality of the thing. She at least knew she wanted him, was attracted to him - he grinned. That was a damn bloody good start.

A muffled scream split apart his self-satisfied reflecting. Not loud enough for a human to hear, but to Spike it was clear as a bell, and from Buffy. He launched himself to the tree by her window and within seconds had slithered into her dark bedroom. In a fighting crouch, Spike speedily scanned the corners of the room - nothing. He turned towards the bed. Buffy was wrapped up in a cocoon of covers, struggling and sweating. Another half-swallowed shriek broke the fog in his head and he jumped towards her. He didn't sense a demon, or magic, or anything that might attack Buffy in her own bed.

"Buffy," he said urgently. "Buffy, love, what is it?"

No response. Spike leaned in closer, and realized Buffy was asleep, caught in a nightmare. Her breathing was heavy, like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room, and despite her Slayer strength she couldn't seem to get free of her blankets. It struck him as he reached in to help her: she was dreaming of her grave. Being trapped underground, without air, in the dark, in a wooden box no wider than her shoulders.

Spike's stomach twisted. "Oh god," he breathed, filled with blood fury for the witch who hadn't even thought to dig her up before that damn spell. Gentle despite the rage in his head, Spike slowly peeled Buffy's duvet, and then her sheets away from her torso. Her hands were claws underneath the coverings, white and trembling ineffectively. He took them in his, crooning a little as he smoothed out her fingers and rubbed some blood back into her palms.

"It's ok, love," he whispered. "You're up here, you're above ground, with someone who loves you. You're safe, Buffy, it's ok."

As he murmured to her, Buffy's breathing began to even out and her strong tiny hands relaxed in Spike's. When it seemed like she was sleeping normally again, Spike let himself slump against her nightstand. A strange feeling was taking hold of him - he couldn't quite figure it out, because it was mixed in with the remnants of fighting readiness and anger for Willow's selfish hocus pocus. Part of it was concern for Buffy, but... oh sweet Jesus. It was guilt. He was feeling guilt, because he had been out there scheming on how to make Buffy fall in love with him when she was in here tormented by something he damn well knew about.

Then Spike shook his head. Wait a second - guilt? You could almost think he'd picked up a soul somewhere, like ever-poncing Peaches. Guilt! He might be chipped and in love, but feeling guilt for wanting to get something his own way! No self-respecting vampire would even entertain the thought. He was the only one there for Buffy right now, and that was good for her. He was good for her, and the Scoobies weren't. End of the flipping story, that's it. This was his chance, and he would get Buffy.

Spike settled into the carpet. He would stay here until sunrise, chasing away the nightmares if they returned, so that Buffy could get some rest. And if she awoke, and saw him, and was grateful, well fancy that.

***************

Buffy woke up slowly, with a sense of peacefulness. She'd had the same horrific dream she'd been having since she came back, but for the first time it had ended before dawn. Replaced with warmth and softness, she'd actually been able to sleep soundly for a few hours. She felt... refreshed. Today would be slow, and horrible, like all the others, and in a little while she'd have to face chirpy Willow and hopeful Dawn, but at least she wasn't starting with already frayed nerves. Buffy snuggled deeper into her bed and turned on her side to check the clock - and instead, saw Spike's sleeping face. Buffy smothered a squawk. So much for the not frayed nerves! What on earth was he doing in her bedroom? Sleeping upright like a little kid trying to stay up too late, no less.

"Spike," she hissed. "SPIKE." He grumbled a little but didn't wake up. There was something sweet and actually kind of pure about his still face, like one of those Renaissance marble statues they'd talked about in Art History. Buffy almost didn't want to wake him, but at the thought of anyone else in the house discovering him in her room, she huffed out his name again. "Spike!"

"‘M sleepin, Slayer..." he mumbled without opening his eyes. "‘S my bloody crypt so put a sock in it, won't you."

"It's not your crypt you idiot, it's my bedroom!" Buffy freed an arm and whapped Spike's shoulder. His eyelids popped up and he met her stare with confusion. "And I'd like to know why you're using my nightstand as a pillow!"

Spike shook his head a little and looked around, then grinned. "Why not, Slayer? It's better than a sarcophagus, I dunno." At Buffy's look of death, he shrugged and cut the smirk. "I was walking by outside and I heard you scream... I came rushing in here, cause, well, you know," he sheepishly raised his eyes to hers, then dropped them, "and I realized you were having a nightmare."

"And?" Buffy said, acidly.

"And so I talked to you and held your hands until it went away," Spike said, suddenly caustic. "And I stayed just in case another dream came back to trouble your widdle beddy-bye time, but don't bother thanking me, or anything." The vampire stood. "I guess I'll just be pissing off before you even have to say it, eh?"

Buffy opened her mouth to say something - what, she wasn't sure - but then Spike got to the window and started cursing. So a totally intelligent "what?" came out, instead of a decent comeback.

"It's almost daybreak, pet," said Spike. "And I harbor no expectations that you'll tell me it's the nightingale, and not the lark, which makes a risky departure necessary all the same." He grabbed Buffy's duvet off the bed and wrapped it around himself, managing to look evil despite the way the fluffy covering clashed with his black leather. "This'll do the trick, then," he said. As Spike hopped out the window, he looked back over his shoulder. "Don't worry Buffy, I'll bring it back."

Buffy sat, in now much-lessened bed covers, irritated beyond belief. If that snarky vamp got scorch marks on her duvet, she was going to stake a bunch of tiny parts of him before she did the main event. And what on earth did he bring up birds for? Another way he was trying to make her look stupid, probably. Could anyone BE more infuriating? He hadn't even let her get a word in edgewise, cocky asshole.

Buffy stood up and headed to the shower. She wasn't going to get back to sleep after that, and she might as well try to get in a hour or two or peace before the house filled with people chattering at her. Or people giving her extended sidelong glances, actually. All of yesterday, after her song for Sweet, they'd been treating her like a mental patient encased in glass. Don't trouble the poor resurrected girl, she might tell you the truth. Can't have that.

Buffy stepped into the hot shower, and tried to let her bitterness slide down the drain. The warm water all around her reminded her of the good sleep portion of last night, and that helped. But was Spike really responsible for chasing off the dream of airless coffin and clods of dirt? As much as she hated to admit it, he probably was. She couldn't ignore that his presence had coincided with the first time she'd had actual rest since she came back; and how would he know she was having nightmares, anyway? So, fine, she was grateful for that, but he didn't have to be such a jerk about it. Not that she would've told him thank you anyway, but still. Exasperated again, Buffy started lathering her hair.

By the time she turned the water off, Buffy felt marginally ready to face the day. As she toweled off, she thought that at least in Spike's actions towards her there was no hushed fragile glass-ittude. He was just Spike, good at listening sometimes and full of crap other times. For a moment, she wished a little that he could've stayed. Definitely not worth the Willow disapproval, though. Sighing, Buffy pulled a plain grey shirt out of her closet. Whatever. Spike had just better bring back her duvet, clean and smoke-free.

***************

Spike didn't bring her duvet back that night, and it was below Buffy's dignity to go get it from him. She did a blessedly brief patrol (not too much vamp activity right now), put off Giles's requests to have a talk, and managed to suffer through a chick flick with Dawn squealing at every cheesy line. When it was finally time for bed, Buffy got an extra quilt out of the closet and put on her sushi pajamas, and was just fine.

Of course, when her alarm went off the next morning and Buffy burst out of her claustrophobic dreams with a gasp, she wasn't so fine. Her body seemed to feel the horror and the tiredness even more for having one night of sleep. Buffy wondered where Spike had got to. He was in love with her, right? So shouldn't he take any excuse to be in her bedroom? Stupid demon. It wasn't like she could ask him to hang out at night, so why couldn't he just do it? Buffy briefly considered asking Willow to figure out a spell to keep nightmares away, but dumped that idea. It meant telling Willow about the dreams in the first place, plus Tara had asked her not to encourage Willow's current all-powerful-magic-lady persona. Urgh.

When Buffy got downstairs, there was already a Giles-led powwow in motion. Willow and Tara sat with her cloudy faced Watcher, while Xander nervously ate handfuls of cereals direct from the box. At Buffy's entrance, everyone paused and Giles said his traditional, "Ah, Buffy."

Buffy first walked over to Xander, extricating his fist from her cereal box. "Ew," she told him firmly. Setting the box on the counter, she turned back to the group. "Who died, and what do we think did it?" she asked.

"Well, as a matter of fact," Giles said, "several young men died last night behind a bowling alley."

"Bowling ball to the head?" Buffy suggested helpfully. Everyone looked at her blankly. "Ok, ok, supernatural causes, great."

"Precisely. Supernatural causes that have utterly flummoxed Sunnydale's police service," said Giles with a touch of severity.

"That's not hard," grumbled Willow.

"Please," Giles said with a look at the witch. "Human beings have lost their lives, and if that is not sobering enough, I can tell you that upon a little research, this incident is rather alarming. These young men died from all the blood in their veins literally freezing, and then shattering. What was left was incredibly gruesome, as one might expect, making identification difficult, but one thing the coroner could report was that they all died at exactly the same instant."

"Meaning that whoever killed them did it with a instantaneous spell affecting multiple targets," mused Willow.

"It may not have been a spell, Willow," said Giles. "Although I recognize that magic is a strong possibility, it could also have been a demon we have not encountered before. Either way, you are correct that this being wields power that it would be difficult to escape, or fight."

"But fight I will, right?" said Buffy. "That's the point of this little get-together?"

Silence stretched out for several moments as everyone avoided looking at Buffy. Then Giles cleared his throat and said gently, "You are still the Slayer, Buffy. Willow and I will research whatever could have attacked those men, Xander will get Dawn to school, and you could do a little reconnaissance before your first class today. Ask Spike, perhaps, if he's heard anything."

Buffy imagined herself saying, "Sounds great, I will go see Spike, get my bedspread back from him. And maybe ask him to spend the next few nights in my bedroom. Any other instructions?" A giggle at the potential reactions rose and faded almost as fast, leaving Buffy feeling tired and empty. So all she said was, "Ok. Thanks Giles."

Walking to Spike's crypt in the morning sunlight seemed surreal, but then so did her entire life at this point. Buffy tried to will the sun to warm her, but it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. When she got to the cemetery, it was almost a relief to get away from the gorgeous day into the cool dark crypt.

"Spike!" she called. "I want my duvet! And some people have died - they didn't win the resurrection lottery so it's a crisis! Spiiiiiike!" No peroxided head appeared. First floor, empty. Buffy headed for the lower level, paused. Spike was definitely the type of man - vampire - to sleep nude, and his bed was down there. Making lots of noise and prepared to look away, Buffy descended into the second part of Spike's weird home. Pretty soon though, it was obvious - no Spike.

Where on earth could the extra-flammable guy have gone during daytime? Buffy drew closer to the bed, and realized her duvet was folded in a very neat square at the end of it. Well, at least she got something out of this trip. She reached out to pick it up and saw the note on top written in elegantly crooked handwriting.

"Buffy,
I'm sorry I didn't bring this back, as I promised. I'll be back in a few days and you can shout at me then. Til I return, be careful. There's a new, bigger bad in town. I don't reckon it'll show it's ugly face to you yet, but when it does, you'll need what I'm trying to get.
Yours."

So, that confirmed Giles's fears. Something new was going bump in the night in Sunnydale, something scary enough for Spike to take immediate action. Buffy felt oddly comforted at the idea of a proactive Spike. Here was one person who didn't rely on Buffy to do the dirty work all the damn time.  So instead of crumpling and tossing the note, Buffy folded it carefully. She put it in her pocket and tucked the duvet under her arm. As she left the crypt, the note felt warm against her hip, pulsing through her body despite her better judgement - "yours."

Spike zoomed through the desert as fast as he could, trying to beat the sun. He hated leaving Buffy and Dawn in Sunnydale but it was now or never. The moment he'd heard the rumblings about a Demon Lord in town, Spike had hopped on his motorcycle and shot off for the oasis. They might not give him what he wanted, but he had to try. He hoped Buffy found his note - two nights travel each way if he was quick enough, and time bargaining. He didn't want her to think he'd abandoned her. And he did want her to have her blanket back, even if the smell of warm Buffy all over it made him ache.

With less than half an hour before sunup, Spike was turning off the engine. He was taking a huge risk - nowhere to hide in this desert once the sun came up. He'd better find the damn place, and get in. Stepping away from the motorcycle ticking as it cooled, Spike centered himself. Solemn and still, he waited and listened for the hum of power. Catching the end of it, he turned and concentrated on an empty swath of sand. Slowly, a shimmering began to expand in front of him. When it was big enough, Spike steeled himself and stepped through. The energy crackled around him for a moment, and then he was out of the brightening desert and under a great blue enamel dome.

He'd forgotten how beautiful it was, in here. Vines curled up and down the pillars, with great deep flowers sleepily bobbing and yawning their fragrance at him. The lights reflected off the blue - a shade he'd only ever seen here - in the closest experience to direct sunlight Spike had enjoyed in a while. There was a pool of water beyond one set of columns, lustrous and still, with more plants draped around its edge. The vampire took a moment to absorb what was around him, inhale the peace, and then turned to the women he knew were waiting for him.

"Vampire," said one.

"You return," said her sister.

"And this time," said a third, cocking her head.

"You are not so dark inside," finished the first.

Spike knelt. "I am here on behalf of a Slayer, my ladies."

All three women laughed, and Spike felt them rummaging in his head, his heart, flicking aside some memories like paper trimmings and picking others up to examine like bugs.

"A half-demon," the middle woman began.

"In love," said the third.

"With a Slayer!" crowed the first.

"True,"

"Real,"

"Love." The first whispered it, then.

"What would you have of us?" the three asked, their features shuddering and changing on their faces, hair growing and shrinking, curling and straightening, dark and then light.

"A Demon Lord has come to Sunnydale," Spike murmured, shaky from their exploration inside him. "She is weak - you saw why. She cannot fight it alone."

"No."

"No."

"No," they breathed.

"I ask for protection. I will carry it to the warrior girl. You know I speak the truth," Spike said, full of fear that they would say no, cast him back into the blazing sun of the desert and leave Buffy alone to fight a being even he might run from.

"Protection,"

"For the Slayer."

"The Slayer who was not allowed to stop fighting."

"Yes," Spike whispered, his eyes tingling.

"What will you give us?" asked the first sister.

"What do I have?" asked Spike.

He felt them begin to pry into his inner self again, but suddenly pull back.

"YOU," breathed the first, eyes widening even as her irises shifted from green to brown.

"are important," said the second.

"The Slayer's consort, if you make the right choices," said the third, ceasing to shift for a moment, her voice sharp and clear. "The Slayer's damnation, if you make the wrong."

Shocked, Spike blurted out "What choices?"

All three smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "Our price must be nothing, but we will tell you no more," the last sister told him. "Choose wisely." The women advanced on him then, inexorable and terrifying.

"This,"

"Will hurt," they told him.

"Carry it well," he heard, and then an incredible pain shot through his arms, his legs, into his chest and out his throat - and suddenly he lay in the dark, next to his motorcycle.

"Bugger," Spike croaked as he sat up. A buzzing sat in all his limbs, as though splinters of light were lodged anywhere they could find purchase inside him. It was not pleasant, and Spike lurched to his feet, using the motorcycle for support. As gingerly as an old man, he straddled the bike and gunned the engine. Roaring off crouched over the handlebars, Spike was not looking forward to having to stop and wait for daylight to come and go. He didn't want to be trapped, thinking about what could be the wrong choices. And more than just to get rid of this awful sensation, he wanted to be back with Buffy.

***************

Groggily, Buffy poured cereal (from a fresh, un-Xandered box) into a bowl, glad Dawn had finally gotten out the door. It took all Buffy's energy to get the teenager off to school. She hadn't had a nightmare-free night since Spike was over, and it was getting to her. Luckily no more gross frozen blood bodies had shown up, and she'd only had to dust three vamps in four nights of patrolling. Even school was... less horrible, although she still didn't get her Romantic Poetry seminar. Poems should be easy, right? But to her, right now, they were just a bunch of too big words strung together in random lines..

Buffy had barely sat down with a spoon when the kitchen door burst open and Spike rushed in under his blanket-thing. As he dropped it, Buffy stood up and unconsciously moved towards him.

"Spike," she heard herself saying. "You look terrible."

He laugh-coughed, and tried to grin. If Buffy was tired, Spike looked exhausted. He was dusty and his face wind and sand abraded, and his skin was tight from not feeding. Buffy felt herself reach out her hands to him, aware that Willow had manifested in the doorway behind her but not entirely caring. "Spike," she asked, "where did you go?"

"Went to see about a bauble for a girl," he said, and put his shaking fingers in Buffy's. She reflexively closed her hands about his, and in an instant they felt fused together. A rushing went through the Slayer, as though she was being shocked by electricity, but somehow pleasant. Spike, however, let out a howl of torture so awful Buffy could feel it in her teeth. Locked together, this continued for timeless seconds, minutes, hours - Buffy didn't know. Until abruptly, Spike collapsed and Buffy's hands were her own again. She could hear Willow yelling in the background, and looked down with a ringing detachment in her ears. Pale violet writing was raised all over the skin of her forearms, her hands, what she could see of her feet. Lifting her arm up, she touched her face and felt the curls of lettering there too - and then it was gone. Buffy's skin was back to its bare, golden norm, and Spike was crumpled at her feet.

"What the hell was that?" Willow was shouting as Buffy went down on her knees to Spike. "What did he do to you? What kind of spell was that, he's a vampire!"

Buffy shook her head. Spike was out cold, and still looked like roadkill. "I don't know," she said quietly to Willow. "But..." she assessed herself for a moment. "I think I feel... great." Buffy smiled and resisted the urge to stroke Spike's stiff blond head. "I think it was something good."

That shut Willow up. She stood there, staring, until Tara joined them. The other witch stopped right as she saw the two on the floor. "Oh, Buffy," she sighed. "Your aura. It's - so much clearer. Stronger outline." Then quieter "What happened to Spike?"

"I don't know," replied Buffy, "but whatever it was, he's a disaster. He needs to stay here, for today, and he needs some blood." She hefted Spike into her arms and his duster flowed around him and down to the floor. Buffy saw Tara smother a smile, but didn't mind. They probably looked like some ridiculous parody of a romance novel cover. Buffy carried the vampire to the couch, calling over her shoulder "would one of you mind going to the butcher's for him?"

"No - I mean, ok, we can go," stammered Willow, and taking Tara by the arm, made a beeline for the doorway. Not for the first time, Buffy saw Tara shoot a disgruntled look towards her oblivious partner. She filed that away under "talk to Willow about at some point" and turned back to Spike as the door closed.

He always looked so much... easier to care for when he was unconscious. Nothing offensive was coming out of his mouth, and Buffy could just appreciate how beautiful the lines of his face were. As she appreciated, she remembered the kiss outside of the Bronze in detail, and began to blush. Urgh, she was totally obsessing over him physically, which would've been fine except he loved her and she didn't feel the same way blah blah blah... To encourage Spike in the slightest would be unfair to him. Buffy huffed a little. She did prefer being around him to anyone else right now - why did it have to be so complicated? To avoid that line of thought, Buffy got up to get her homework. (Although, she still thought there should be some magic homework-doing thing, just for Slayers.) That way she could do something productive, and stick by Spike. She owed him, after all, because whatever had transferred between them felt great. It was like arm floaties when she was 5, buoying her up so that a little dog paddling was enough to keep her afloat. Just this was a magic set of arm floaties.

***************

Tara stayed quiet the whole way to the butcher's. A confrontation with Willow was looming, and she was frustrated with herself for continuing to avoid it. Besides, right now it was more important that she tell Willow how even though Spike's energy gift had strengthened Buffy's aura, it was still frighteningly dark. Waiting for the right moment, she'd let Willow rant about Buffy's "thing" for vampires and how Spike might have just harmed her, but Buffy stupidly trusted him. When Willow told her that she couldn't possibly understand because she hadn't been around for evil Angel, Tara held her tongue. She even held her tongue as Willow retold a version of being kidnapped by Spike that even Tara knew was highly edited - Xander was completely left out, for instance. When they got to the butcher's and Willow was faced with doing something for the person she'd been verbally whaling on the whole walk, Tara gracefully stepped in. She ordered a few bags of pig's blood and paid, which was lucky, since Willow hadn't stopped to get her wallet. It was only on the way home, when Willow started on a different tack that Tara finally lost her temper.

"I mean, how can Buffy not be worried about whatever Spike gave her?" Willow raged. "She was covered in writing I didn't recognize, and then it went away. What kind of spell does that? I've never heard, or read about it, and it could be bad! Buffy just doesn't understand how dangerous magic can be! She's so-"

"No!" Tara finally said angrily, all thoughts of Buffy's aura flying out of her head. She stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face her girlfriend. "You're one to talk! You don't seem to care how dangerous magic can be! You've been abusing it, and toying with it, and building up your ego for weeks now. I asked you not to do magic for a week, and you haven't been able to!"

"What?" Willow asked. "I haven't done any magic since we rescued Dawn from the Bronze!"

"Don't LIE to me, Willow," Tara said, now low and fierce. "You haven't done anything big, but I know you've been doing little tiny spells for convenience." Tara shook her head. "On you, the whiff of a spell is always there."

"Tara-"

"I ignored it because I thought those little magics were like... I don't know. Nicotine patches for a smoker! That it was unfair of me to expect you to quit cold turkey. But now..." Tara started walking again. "You're angry because Spike did something magical that you're unfamiliar with. That he might have helped Buffy more than you could. Which is ridiculous, because you haven't tried to help Buffy."

"Yes, I have!" Willow almost yelled it. "I brought her back from the dead, didn't I? I went through so much to bring her back!"

"From heaven," Tara cut in. "You brought her back from heaven. And when she didn't come back all shiny and full of puns, you left her to deal with it on her own. So tell me, Willow, when you ignore what I want and lie to me, why should I stay to deal with you?"

Willow had begun to cry, but Tara kept moving forward. She sped up a little, a weeping Willow in her wake. When they got to the front door, Willow shot upstairs trying to muffle her sobs. Tara stifled the urge to go after her, to pet her red hair and tell her she was there. To tell her that she could have another week to wean herself off magic. To offer to help research Spike's spell. It was too late for that, and Tara knew that the voice in the back of her head was right. It was time to leave, and with that acceptance Tara felt unexpectedly clear. First things first, though, so she turned to Buffy. She was sitting at the desk, staring at a book but obviously not reading. Spike still lay on the couch, deader than usual.

"Buffy," Tara said softly. "I got some blood. Do you want to come into the kitchen and microwave a mug?"

"Oh, thanks Tara," said Buffy. She trailed the other woman into the kitchen, where Tara passed her a bag of blood and put the rest in the fridge. As Buffy got a mug down for Spike, Tara coughed a little.

"Buffy, I'm going to be moving out," she said. "I don't really want to talk about it, and I'm sorry. But I can't be around W-W-Willow anymore."

Buffy turned, confused. "Tara - why? What happened between you two?"

"Willow has been using magic to make things her own way," replied Tara. "Using magic on me. You should talk to Giles about it. I just wanted to tell you, because -" she stopped. "Because if you need me... need to talk to someone who isn't as close to you... you can call me. Dawn can call me. I'll call her. Both of you." Tara cut herself off and took a deep breath.

"Um... thank you," said Buffy. "I - I always thought - we don't have to stop - being friends. And I know you're really important to Dawn."

Tara gave her a wan but genuine smile, and went upstairs. Buffy stared after her for a moment, and then turned back to the mug and the bag of blood. Mechanically she opened it, fill the mug, placed it in the microwave. Set the timer. Voices began to come from upstairs, raised but indistinct. Buffy could hear crying, and slamming. She knew she should be reacting to this news more, but she didn't feel like Willow's best friend or Dawn's big sister. She just wanted all this heavy stuff to stop. Emotions were too difficult, and she had a big bad on the horizon and a vampire to feed. Right as the timer dinged its doneness, Buffy heard feet pounding down the stairs. She heard the front door slam, then get wrenched open again only to close with another crack of sound.

Wearily, she walked into the front room to find Spike sitting up. He looked tired, but a little amused.

"Trouble in paradise, eh?" he said, catching sight of her. "A little lovers' spat? Haven't seen much of that from those two, now."

"Tara is moving out," Buffy said shortly. At first disposed to be glad it was now just her and the vampire, his readiness to pry irritated her. Breakups weren't funny, or did he need to be reminded of Drusilla?

Spike looked like he was going to say something else, but then saw or smelled the blood. His face roiled and he started to vamp out. His body tensed and Buffy could tell her was struggling to keep his forehead non-bumpy. This lack of control was unusual for Spike; he really must have not eaten for days. Even though Buffy felt a hint of her old revulsion, she stepped closer to him and held out the mug.

"It's ok, Spike," she said. "Your face... I don't mind." She did mind, a little, but was trying to keep in mind that Spike's current state was on behalf of her. Even though she didn't know exactly what he'd done or where he'd been, she was pretty sure it wasn't a kitten poker bender.

Spike grabbed the mug from her and started drinking noisily, face still half-vamped. Buffy wrinkled her nose and turned around. Blood was just so gross! After a minute, the sounds stopped, and she turned back to Spike. Hurt was all over his face for a second, before he wiped it away and replaced it with a sneer.

"Please Slayer, I want some more," he said in a Cockney accent. Buffy rolled her eyes, although inside she felt a little bad for making him self-conscious. She took the mug and heated up the rest of the bag in the kitchen. Spike accepted his second serving without comment, and drank it without vamping or slurping.

"You can just set it down on the table," Buffy told him, when he was done drinking. "We should get you up to the shower, you're filthy."

"Buffy, love," Spike waggled his eyebrows, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Gross, Spike," Buffy knew she'd walked right into that one, but his coating of grime was just too much. "Let's go." She held out her arm and the vampire hauled himself painfully to his feet. Buffy knew enough to not hurt his dignity by carrying him like she had out to the couch, and just put her arm around his back. He settled onto her shoulders and they headed up the stairs.

"You know, I wasn't so gross the other night," Spike said into Buffy's ear. "Outside of the Bronze, after we'd done all our little tra-la-las." Buffy considered dropping him down the stairs, but decided it was too much effort.

"That was a one time thing, Spike. You helped me stop dancing and I was still all singy-Buffy and... that was it," she told him. Even as she was firm with the guy, Buffy was imagining how good that kiss felt. And how hard he'd felt against her - she tried to cut those thoughts off at the pass. She started to blush a little anyways, and when they got to the bathroom door Spike nuzzled her ear.

"I can tell you're thinking about it," he murmured, sexy despite the fatigued undercurrent to his voice. "A bit of a blush in your cheeks... maybe somewhere else." Without taking a beat, Spike delicately licked the curve of Buffy's ear. Heat waves broke straight down her body, and God help her but Buffy wanted to get into the shower with him. She thought about the feel of his ridged penis through his pants and imagined him nude, soapy and slick. His hands all over her.

Buffy's blush intensified and she quickly propped Spike up against the bathroom doorframe. Keeping her face away from him, she turned on the shower water. "Uh, I'll get you a towel," she said, and slipped past him into the hallway. She took some time choosing a towel from the linens closet, and when Buffy turned back to Spike her blush was mostly under control. "Here," she said, and thrust the towel out at him. He took it, grinning.

"You sure you don't want to join me, pet?" he said. As he stepped towards her, his legs buckled a little and he caught himself on the doorframe.

"Even if that WASN'T the last thing on my mind, I don't think you could handle me right now," Buffy said, crossing her arms.

"Fair enough," Spike responded. He got himself into the bathroom and began to close the door, then looked at her again. "Although, if I was feeling myself, I would do plenty more than just handle you." He winked one gorgeous blue eye and shut the door, effectively getting the last word.

Buffy stood in the hallway, definitely annoyed but even more aroused. A stray thought came to her mind: was this how Anya felt when she was around Xander? Then it would make sense that she always wanted to have sex, although how anyone could feel wet for Xander was beyond - Buffy decided to end that line of internal dialogue. Some things did not need analysis. Although when getting in a shower with Spike had become more palatable than imagining sexy Xander, Buffy didn't know.

"A Demon Lord has come to Sunnydale," Spike stated flatly, looking around the table at everyone. "It's not-"

"That's it?" interrupted Xander. "Some kind of extra fancy demon royalty? What's the big deal with that? We can fight one demon, no problem!"

"Yeah, Spike, big deal," shot Willow. "What we SHOULD be talking about is that spell you put on Buffy!"

"In due time, Red," Spike responded as Anya scoffed at her fiance (knew he liked that girl), "because if certain people would keep their bleedin' traps shut, I could explain that a Demon Lord is not as simple as the title makes it sound. It's a very specific term. ‘S not just a demon who's a little smarter and stronger and in charge of the rest of its kind. It's a being - usually starts out as a human - who has developed his or her capacity for magic over decades, maybe even a century or more."

"You mean they've prolonged their life spans with magic?" Willow, suddenly distracted from Spike's spell.

"Among other, more terrifying things, yes," Spike said. He noticed Giles looking at Willow with concern and grinned to himself. Witch gettin' too big for her britches, it seemed. No wonder the luscious Tara had had enough. Although, he wished she hadn't a little. He liked that one, treat for the eyes and the ears she was. And not unpleasant to him like the rest of -

"Spike." Witch called him back to where he was.

"Sorry, Red," he said, sending her a saucy smile. "Still recoverin' and all that." Willow rolled her eyes. "Anyway, point is, the title Demon Lord is because eventually, this thing - person - being - whatever - acquires control over all species of demon. On varying levels, but it grows over time. And this should go without sayin', but they're not mobilizing an army of demons to save damsels in distress and kittens up trees."

"Oh, thanks, Spike," Xander said, sarcasm evident. "I was hoping this Lord guy would take over the world, making it safer for everyone but you."

Ignoring the whelp, Spike went on. "Demons are terrified of these Lords, because even the thickest of ‘em don't want to be stripped of free will and used as cannon fodder or what have you. And the thing is, all the Demon Lords I've heard of have a sense of humor. Mischief, I guess. They're hard to get at, because they're not about some cliched world takeover. They're about having a good time, and their idea of a good time isn't something even I can always get into."

"Well, hey, Spike, good to know that there's some kind of depravity out there that you won't sink to," quipped Xander.

"Xander, please," Giles said quietly. He had been silent until now, and Spike found himself strangely pleased that the Watcher had sort of defended him. Their mutual lack of patience with Xander was rewarding, at times.

"Spike, I don't mean to doubt your knowledge, but I find it strange that the Council has never heard of anything like a Demon Lord." Giles pushed his glasses up his nose. "It sounds, from what you say, like a highly visible threat that would have come to the attention of Slayers and their Watchers."

"Sounds like you're making it up," Willow smiled, nastier than Spike had seen her. "Making it up so you can put a spell on Buffy, right? As if harassing her all the time wasn't enough, you -"

"Willow!" Buffy finally showed some sign of animation. "I feel fine. Can we at least wait for Spike to explain?" Willow pouted and crossed her arms, but stayed quiet.

"Look, Rupes," said Spike, his momentary liking for the librarian dissipated and Red on his last nerve. "Demon Lords are smart. Smarter than vampires, smarter than humans. They're in it for themselves. Why would they try to draw attention? They never target Slayers, or even go near a Slayer's territory. Usually." Spike snuck a look at Buffy. This concerned him more than anything, a Demon Lord in the town of a Slayer who had become legendary. She looked - blank. Unconcerned. And that was scary to him, too.

"But I find it hard to believe that NO hint of the existence of such a powerful being has ever reached the Watcher Council's ears," persisted Giles.

"Really?" spat Spike. "Because I don't. How many Watchers get killed by demons? Not a lot, but it's a hazard of the profession, right? Not somethin' you lot look into all that closely. Watcher hears a bit about a Demon Lord, Demon Lord makes it their bloody priority to get rid of that Watcher. And when it's on a Demon Lord's list of things to do, it gets done now don't it? With any one of the horde at their beck and call. And anytime they pull something - like the rebellions in Prague in the 1400s - it's hard to see it for their work."

"In that case, how do you know about them, then, Spike?" asked Giles witheringly.

"Because I'm a demon, that's why," Spike explained as though to a child. "Demon Lords are a big stinkin' hazard in our world. Dunno who first figured it and shared the knowledge, but most demons hear those rumors and beat it the hell out of town. Leaving ‘em to spread the word. We don't wanna be mind controlled and it's not like the buggers usually have a cause we can get behind. Vampires especially steer clear. We like to go our own way."

"If everyone could stop baiting each other for just a moment, I want to say that Spike isn't making it up. I've had quite the history with at least one Demon Lord," Anya put in. "From my demon days - vengeance demons and Lords actually get along pretty well, we're both into chaos and enjoy, you know, the little things, like disembowelments and-"

"An," said Xander. "Um, gross now."

"Sorry, sorry, so sensitive, aww" Anya said, and petted Xander's face. "Anyway, like I said, Demon Lords, real things, like chaos, one of the few things demons'll run from."

"Then why haven't YOU left town, Spike?" asked Buffy, sudden and direct. The vampire squirmed a little. He didn't mind being the good guy for Buffy, but in front of the others it was galling.

"Yeah, and can we talk about that spell now?" put in Willow.  Spike decided he preferred the latter question. Witchy wasn't going to shut up about anytime soon, besides.

"It was protection," Spike told them. "I don't know exactly what it does, but it magnifies the bearer's existing strengths and protects against the supernatural abilities of enemies. It may even manifest as physical protection sometimes, hard to tell. Depends on the threat, and the champion."

"So Buffy is... the champion?" asked Xander.

"Well, yes," said Spike. "I don't know why a Demon Lord is here, but Buffy is legendary already. She's the Slayer who wins and who won't quit. Appeals to some who like a challenge," here, the vampire had the grace to look abashed, "and maybe this Lord was bored. Endless supply of demons on the Hellmouth, too. Any way you slice it, it's a threat to Buffy, Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, maybe larger, I don't know."

"How come you didn't get this for Buffy sooner?" asked Anya. "It sounds great, and since you're obsessed with her and all-"

"It's a bit hard to get, darlin'," Spike said hastily. "Can't ask for it for yourself, someone's got to ask it for you. Got to be for a really good reason, specific and all that, and there's payment to be made."

"Glory wasn't a really good reason?" this came from Willow, angry again.

"She was, just..." whispered Spike. He'd tormented himself over and over for not at least trying to get her protection, after she - jumped. But... "It wouldn't have blocked the powers of a god," he told them. "It comes from the Powers That Be, and they won't help out again one of their own. Start a divine war and all that."

"You went to the Three," breathed Giles. "How did you get in? And my god, Spike, how did you pay them?"

Spike REALLY did not want to explain that second one. Any whisper of the idea of him being Buffy's consort and they'd all send him flying out the door arse-first, not to mention the choices part. If anyone even believed that the sisters had actually said that, they'd still stake Spike just in case he made the wrong choices.

"Spike?" asked Buffy. "Was it... make with the big time payment?"

"I, er, had been there before," said Spike, trying to stall with the first answer. "When Dru was sick, before we even came to Sunnydale, we went to the Three. Dru could find them, you see, maybe cause she was mental, and we thought they could heal her. A protection spell to make her right again. And I guess they could've, but we didn't have anything they wanted in payment for helping a creature of the dark and all..." Bugger, he was back to the payment part. Searching quickly, he said, "They're not all on the side of fluffy bunnies, you know."

"I should hope not! Then we'd all be dead," said Anya, shuddering. "Can you imagine, invincible bunnies?!"

"Sure, An," said Xander amiably, "that'd be terrifying all right."

Spike was hoping the conversation would continue elsewhere, but then Giles the British Bugger had to bring it all back around.

"Yes, I've read that they are quite indiscriminate with their aid," he said, polishing his glasses. "Although the price is often higher for creatures of the dark... but some theories postulate that is a result of evil beings having less they care about, thus less to sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" asked Willow. "What did YOU sacrifice, Spike?" The redhead was getting belligerent again.

Unable to come up with something that would gain Buffy's gratitude while not seeming suspicious - it had to be noble but also not obviously weakening, no idea - Spike decided to just tell a bit of the truth. "I didn't pay anything," he told them. "They said... they said their price must be nothing."

"Must be?" asked Giles with an incredulous look. "Why on earth must? I have never heard of the Three offering their services freely."

"I don't know," said Spike. "I suppose they may have more of a bent towards the light than you think. They called Buffy ‘the Slayer who was not allowed to stop fighting'."

"Allow-" Willow began, but then cut herself off. She looked ashamed, and sad.

Everyone looked at Willow for a moment, and then Xander said in a small voice, "Maybe these Three are on the good side... or maybe this Demon Lord is a threat to them, too." For once, the whelp was using his brain, and Spike nodded at him. Everyone was quiet, thinking on that. The silence stretched across the table, more and more somber until a door slam broke into the space.

"GEEZ, who died?" asked Dawn, throwing down her bag and standing hands on her hips. "Wait, oh god, did someone we know die? Where's Tara?" All flippancy draining out of her tone, the teenager sat in the empty chair. Spike felt for the girl, wanting to be a part of things and afraid as all-getout after losing her mum and her sis in the same few months, but he didn't want to sit through the Dawn-splanation.

"This lot can tell you," replied Spike. Then, nicely, "Nobody's died yet." He pushed back his chair and went into the living room to get his leather coat. From it he yelled "I'm off," and headed for the door. It had been nice to take a shower and a nap on Buffy's couch, but it was just dark and he wanted his pad. He wanted some whiskey, and a bigger nap, and he didn't want the Scoobies to know how wiped he still was.

Buffy appeared at the door as Spike opened it. He looked at her, hoping to see some tenderness, gratitude, even fear - but she just looked blank. All the Buffy personality he'd seen starting to creep out over the last few days was gone, in the face of a threat that demanded the warrior, not the girl.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything else," he said to her, just wanting to elicit some kind of response. Her presence at the door was something, but not if she was zombie Buffy.

"Thanks, Spike," she said. Her face did change a little, then, and she added, "for everything. The protection, I mean. Thanks."

"Not a problem," Spike said, heading out the door. He wasn't in the mood to see this Buffy right now, and he really wanted that bloody drink.

"Spike," Buffy called out when he was almost across the lawn. The vampire looked back at her, standing in the lighted doorway, always startlingly tiny. "Control over demons - could that include you?"

Spike wasn't sure if he heard concern or curiosity, vulnerability or what, but there was only one response.

"It could, pet, but it won't," he called back, and left.

Giles had finally pinned Buffy down for a talk - and just in time, since his flight was in two days. It wasn't like Giles wanted to have the conversation anymore than Buffy did, but he had to go. His Slayer needed to be jerked back into reality and he needed to draw on the strength of the Council regarding this Demon Lord. Not to mention that while he was there, Giles could continue to lobby for extending a stipend to Buffy. He wanted her to learn financial responsibility, but realistically there wasn't much in the bank to learn it with. Then there was the matter of Willow... and her very unsettling relationship with magical power, which Giles desperately wanted to discuss with the Devon Coven. All in all, England was the place to be right now. He just hoped Buffy could understand that.

Buffy listened gravely as he laid out these reasons for his departure - leaving out the stipend, he didn't want to get her hopes up - and then was quiet, her back to the brick wall of the training room.

"I am sorry to leave you," Giles said again, to break the silence. He'd grown to dread Buffy's flatness. It was all the worse for her occasional moments of energy, because you never knew now when this Buffy would show up to stonewall you.

"So... don't," Buffy said. Her words were slow, full of effort. "Can't you... do all the telling and consulting from here?"

"No, Buffy," Giles said, trying to be patient. "Tele-communications are not immune to magical spying, and I have no wish to alert the Demon Lord that this Watcher is aware of his or her presence. My return to England is innocuous enough - I was considering it before Spike's revelation in any case."

"You were-?" Buffy broke in.

"And," continued Giles, "I am very concerned about Willow, as should you be, and I want to put in a formal request to the Coven. That must be done in person."

"You were thinking of leaving before?" Buffy persisted. Giles felt a familiar twinge of frustration that Buffy was not engaging with him on Willow's behavior.

"Yes, I was. I have my own life in London, and I can't be around to fix everything forever. Better now than later, when you've come to depend on my intervention - as with Dawn, for example!"

"I already depend on you..."

"I know, my girl, and I love you very much. But I've made up my mind."

"Of course you have," Buffy said, showing a spark that Giles now regretted wishing for. "You always do! You make up your mind about what is best for me before even asking - or you just don't care to think about it. Your life in London and your Council of stodgy old men is more important?!"

"That is not fair," Giles responded, hurt. "I do ask you questions, but you've barely been communicating with anyone the past week. If you want us to know what you want, you have to say something about it. That's a basic fact of maturity, Buffy, and I am leaving so you can learn it, among other things."

Buffy deflated, as fast as she'd gone on the offensive. "Leaving without letting me have a real say in it... seems like a pattern with the men in my life. My dad, Angel, Riley, now you. I don't know why I'm surprised."

Giles was startled. He'd never thought about that progression in Buffy's life, and now it seemed painfully obvious. He in no way wished to be on THAT list of males.

"I understand, Buffy" he tried. "But I will come back, and unlike those... fellows, I will not cut off contact with you. You will hear from me, and I won't be gone forever." Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "And Buffy - as far as men - Xander isn't going to leave any time soon... and if we're being honest-" Giles couldn't believe he was going to say it, but, "neither is Spike."

"Great," said Buffy. "A klutz obsessed with his ex-demon fiancee and a vampire with highly questionable morals."

"That is unkind," chided Giles. "Xander loves you very much, and Anya is not an unwelcome source of knowledge to the group." The Watcher paused, decided he had to be fair, despite again being a little internally incredulous at himself. "While I don't recommend trusting Spike, his morals seem somewhat consistent when it comes to keeping his promises to you. Which includes aiding you. It is truly spectacular that he went to The Three on your behalf."

"Really?" Buffy seemed interested again.

"Again, Buffy, I don't condone letting Spike too close, but I must admit that my opinion of Spike has improved. And yes, his visit to The Three is in no small part responsible. He could have lost a great deal - they have been known to take anything from a limb to sanity to memories in payment - and it seems as though he never hesitated. He was proactive on your behalf, and I suggest that you appreciate that."

"I do," said Buffy, a little too warmly for Giles's comfort.

"Ah - but," he added hastily, "Spike is still a vampire, and his love for you is still very unsettling. You must always been sure to never encourage those feelings. And keep in mind that without the chip, he could return to being quite a threat. Allow him to help you, but keep him at arms length, Buffy."

"Yeah, I know," Buffy sighed.

"I have to go," Giles said, checking his watch after a moment. "There are some things I still must do before I leave."

"Of course," said Buffy. "Thanks for deciding that telling me you were leaving was one of them. Glad I rate so high on that list."

Her bitterness was back, and Giles decided he could do no more for now. He stood up, kissed his Slayer on the forehead, and left.

***************

Spike was dozing when Buffy came into his crypt. It had been almost a week since he'd come back from the desert, and he was still embarrassingly weak. He was sleeping a lot, and apart from the occasional foray out for cigarettes and blood, he was mostly keeping to himself. Two nights back he'd gone on an information run, but all he'd gleaned was that this Demon Lord was quiet and slow. Not too many seemed to even know a Lord was in town, and nobody had a clue as to why. From the comfort of his crypt, Spike had looked into possible oncoming potential for Apocalypse - prophecies, planets aligning, what have you - and saw none in Sunnydale's near future. Luckily, on that information run, Spike had managed to borrow some books on demon history from one of the scholarly, rather pleasant Cha'toth demons before they left town. Can't keep records if you risk sticking around, he guessed.

While some demon history was fascinating, looking for possible Demon Lord similarities was painstaking business. Spike had ensconced himself in his chair with a nice generous glass of bourbon, and between comfort and tedious reading the vampire dropped right off. Which was how Buffy came to find him, head back and leather-bound book flopped open in his hand.

"You look positively grandfatherly, Spike, " Buffy said by way of greeting. Spike jerked awake, sending the book to the floor. "It's kind of weird."

"Well, I am wise and dignified," Spike forced himself to stand up and prowl over to the Slayer. "And old... but certainly not infirm - although, if you'd care to check...?"

"Come on, Spike, do you have to go there right away?" Buffy complained.

"You started it," he retorted.

"Ok, ok," Buffy said, and sort of looked away. She started wandering around his crypt, and as always Spike wasn't sure what she was after. He hoped she wasn't going to ask him to go patrol, since he didn't want to fall on his face and make an idiot out of himself.

"Er..." he began, and then cut himself off. Buffy'd get around to it eventually without his help.

"Can I just... hang out here for a little while?" she finally asked, turning back towards him.

"Anytime, pet," Spike answered, relieved and pleased. He hadn't seen Buffy for a week, wanted to let her get her bearings. Plus he wanted her to come after him, in any case; it was her turn to acknowledge she wanted to be around him.

As if his thoughts pulled it out of her, Buffy said reluctantly, "I finished a patrol and I didn't want to go home. I hadn't seen you since... you told us about the Demon Lord and..."

Spike waited for her to finish for a moment, but realized she wasn't going to make the effort.

"Well, I don't have a lot more that I've learned about our new friend," Spike ventured. Buffy made no response and sat down in the chair he'd just vacated.

"This is comfy." Buffy seemed surprised. "Can I have a sip of this, what is it?"

"Euh, bourbon, love," said Spike. "Take a sip but don't get drunk on me again. I don't think I'm ready for it."

"Sheesh, Spike, that was your fault anyway," Buffy said, taking a swallow of liquor and making a face. "You were my... encourager? What's that word?"

"Enabler, I think you mean," Spike sat at Buffy's feet, and rested his head on the recliner, deliciously close to her knee.

"That," confirmed Buffy. "You enabled me last time. So don't complain!"

"I wasn't complaining, my dove. Merely being practical about my limitations at the moment. Carrying you home is a little out of the question for me yet."

"What do you mean? Not that... I want you to, or - yuck. Whatever."

"I'm not quite back in tippy top condition," Spike said, smirking a little to himself. He loved when she gave away little kernels like that.

"Really, Spike?" Buffy asked, and the vampire didn't think he was imagining the note of concern in her voice. "It's been a whole week. Are you... getting better at all?"

"Yes, yes, pet, I'm not metaphysically poisoned or any such nonsense. It just takes it out of you, being the delivery boy for such as the Three."

"Giles-" Buffy paused, and swallowed. "Giles told me that it was a really big deal, you going to see them. He said the payment could've been big, even your sanity."

"Ah - yep, The Three are... well they are in a position to charge as they like." Spike was trying to tread carefully. He wanted her grateful, of course he did, but he also didn't want to make her uncomfortable right now. Something was bothering her, and the sooner he put her at ease the sooner she'd let herself share it.

"I..." Buffy seemed almost shy, a strange, strange thing for Spike to witness. "I said thank you. And I am. I mean, I am thankful. But - um - I think if I had to choose, I'd want you with your mind - I mean, evil and terrible as it is - uh, your mind intact. Instead of this fancy protection thing. I don't even know that it's working."

A warmth went through Spike. He wanted to wrap his arms around Buffy for that - even Dru hadn't seemed to much care whether or not his head was right. Buffy... wanted him as himself. Like he wanted her. Resisting the urge to let his head slide onto her knee, the vampire said lightly "I was hoping more they'd go for the limb, meself. But turns out we're all ducky and they didn't want a blessed thing. And it'll work - you can bet on that. Just hasn't had a reason yet."

Buffy was silent. They sat there, comfortable companions. Whatever Buffy was worried about was still fermenting inside her, but Spike let himself enjoy the stillness between them. It wasn't always tension and fights for him and his girl. Although sometimes, his philosophical side wondered if the history of verbal and physical violence between them was actually what made this possible, now.

Eerily mirroring his thoughts again, Buffy said eventually, "You've been around for a long time, now, Spike. I think... I wouldn't want you to go."

He felt the tension in her going up at that last phrase, so Spike reassured. "I've got no plans to go anywhere, pet. ‘Specially not when a big bad is looming."

"You'll tell me, right?" Buffy said, still tense. "If you decide to... what's your phrase, bugger off, for good?"

"Yes, pet, of course. You could hardly avoid me telling you. But I'm not, so I won't," the vampire reasoned. "I'm not like the strong and silent Peaches." The moment it was out of his mouth, Spike winced. Probably the wrong thing to say, bugger it.

"No, you're not," Buffy said, a little upset. Spike figured he'd better backpedal and cast about for what to say, but suddenly Buffy came out with it. "Giles left."

"What?" Spike asked, completely unprepared. "Watcher left again? Thought he'd never let you out of his sight... after -"

"Yeah." Buffy's words caught on the hurt in her throat. "He went back to England yesterday." Spike waited. There was more, he knew it. "He said he needed the Council's brainpower or whatever to deal with the Demon Lord. And he wanted to see some convent of witches or something, about Willow. Because she's not herself anymore either, all she wants is magic and Tara back. He said he couldn't do all that from Sunnydale..." She trailed off.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Spike offered.

"It's not up to you to be sorry," Buffy said, voice rising. "I told him - I told him all the men I care about leave me behind without discussing it with me. My dad, Angel, stupid Riley, now Giles. And I - I - he didn't even try to deny it." She had started to cry, and Spike's heart ached for her. Bloody bastards, not knowing what they had in her - what idiots. Risking it, Spike lifted his head and snuck his hands up to put them over hers. She let him, but with her hands totally still.

"He didn't deny it," Buffy repeated, "but he told me... he told me that you and Xander weren't going anywhere. That you were... consistent... and helpful..."

Spike was surprised to hear old Rupert actually giving him some credit. The librarian must have been pretty troubled by Buffy's list of disappearing men to let THAT admission out. He was sure it was coupled with warnings about him, but still. Not bad on the Watcher.

"Buffy." Spike let his head fall back onto the recliner and ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. "I'm not going anywhere. If you don't know by now that I'm going to be there whenever you need me, maybe that California blonde is going to your head."

Buffy gave a soupy laugh and withdrew one of her hands to wipe her eyes. "I hate blonde jokes," she said without annoyance.

"Ah, love, don't hate them. They're just proof of your superiority, when someone tries to tell you you're a ditz. Besides, I'm a blond by choice, what does that say?"

"It says you have terrible fashion sense," Buffy said, but there was no sting in her words. They sat there, one of Buffy's hands still holding onto Spike's. Then, impossibly, Spike felt a tentative touch on his head and went still inside. Was he hallucinating - tenderness, affection? But undeniably, he felt slender fingers working themselves into his hair, stroking his head.

"It's softer than I thought," said Buffy, dreamily.

Spike could make no response. He was adrift, could barely think. The time stretched out, Buffy's hand gentle and warm on his head and Spike slowly letting himself believe it. A series of images with Buffy came to him as he began to doze again: quiet and peaceful at times, playful and bright other times, and always, Spike fighting alongside her, with her, for her.

***************

One of Buffy's motives in going to visit Spike had been to fall asleep with him, so when she woke up curled up in his recliner she wasn't too disoriented. As she'd hoped, no nightmares. She let herself wake up slowly, the knowledge of the blanket over her coming on first, then the feeling of a crick in her neck, then the realization that Spike was asleep in her lap. THAT was unexpected, and Buffy had to keep herself from jerking and pushing him off. She didn't really want to push him off, but the idea of being close to Spike had been a no-no for so long the reflexes were still there. Probably they were right, she knew - it was still a no-no to be like this with Spike. But she couldn't find revulsion in her anywhere, this morning. He had been such a good listener, sincere and calming. Again, Buffy felt more rested than in a while. And with his arm splayed out across her lap, head resting in the curve of his elbow, he just looked like a man. A handsome, trustworthy man with no history of blood or rape or murder.

Buffy couldn't help it - she shuddered, a little, both from the memories of the old Spike and from her desire for them to go away. At the movement, the object of her thoughts stirred a little, murmuring gibberish, and snuggled deeper into her lap. Unthinking, Buffy put out her hand to pet his head, and stopped herself. What WAS that? She had been playing with his hair last night, when they hadn't felt the need to keep talking. It was - nice, she admitted to herself, but that intimacy with Spike was definitely NOT on the approved list of ways to discourage Spike from being in love with her. It was probably on another list full of frowny faces and admonishments about keeping her distance from sexy vampires, blah blah blah. Buffy should probably be going anyway, it was a Saturday morning and Dawn would be sad if she wasn't there for breakfast... not to mention Willow would ask prying questions that ended in a cross-examination about whether or not Buffy had felt any effects from Spike's protection spell. Or tears about Tara, that was always a possibility too.  

Buffy began trying to get up without waking Spike. A silly idea, but she did want the guy to recover his strength. She was getting antsy about this Demon Lord and wanted Spike back in action. Plus, she didn't know what she would say to him. "Hey Spike, we were just acting as if we'd been together for years, but I'm gonna go back to my real life and you should probably not expect that ever again?" Probably not. Mean, and didn't want to be mean. And maybe not true, because even if she didn't want to admit it, that was the best night she'd had since before she died.

Of course, Spike woke up mid-extrication process. He gave Buffy a boyish smile still full of sleep and she felt a little twist in her midsection. Hastily, she got herself out of the chair and backed away from it til she stepped on a book. Grateful for the prop, she bent down to get it and when she straightened Spike was standing in front of her.

"Off so soon?" he drawled.

"Uh, yeah. Gotta get home to Dawn, breakfast and stuff."

"Ah, the Niblet. Right. Not like you and I could go to a coffeehouse or Denny's for nosh anyways."

"Yeah, no, flamey flamey." Buffy was distracted by a brief image of having civilized biscotti and cappuccinos with Spike. She smiled a little, and Spike smiled foolishly back.

This was just too weird. Buffy seized on the book in her hand, and thrust it out towards Spike, breaking the moment. "What is this? Not exactly Passions, is it?" A thought occurred to her and she looked down, horrified. "Oh god, is it Passions? One of those TV-turned book novels?"

Spike laughed. "No, no, I don't know that novels like that exist for Passions. Would still read it if it did and no lip from you, please." He took the book from Buffy as she made a face. "This is demon history, borrowed it off a professor-type demon. Reading for habits of Demon Lords. Anything to try to figure out why ours is here, what his or her plan is."

"Oh..." Buffy felt like the very words "Demon Lord" threw an iron cape of responsibility around her shoulders. "I guess I've been trying not to think about that. Which is bad. Bad Buffy." She shrugged. "There's just so much other stuff to think about. Like Dawn. And Willow, although I don't really understand what's up with her. And money. Oh, god, money." Buffy felt like she was going to cry. "Spike, I have to go."

She made for the door of the crypt, but Spike caught her hand. Buffy turned back, right into Spike's lips, as he put his other hand on the small of her back and pulled her into him. Buffy's inner Giles was horrified, but the rest of her just - gave in, happily. Spike's mouth was impossibly warm and soft, and his body felt lean and perfect against hers. He didn't run his hands all over her like the other men she'd kissed, and there was something even sexier about the firm, decisive presence of his hand on her back. And his mouth - his mouth was insistent, amazing. Every time Buffy started to come back to herself, Spike changed the angle of the kiss, or nipped at her bottom lip, or flicked his tongue just a little over hers. She moaned, and then Spike's hands did move, one sliding to cup her ass and the other tangling itself in her hair. Little shocks of limb-weakening arousal began pulsing between her legs, into her stomach, lust so intense it could have been nausea. And then - Spike stopped. His erection was obvious again - another burst of heat went through Buffy - and he was grinning. 

"Something to take your mind off it all," Spike said, looking very pleased with himself.

Buffy wanted to say - anything, really, but he was right. She couldn't think, she wanted to keep kissing him but wasn't about to let him win, so she settled for stumbling out into the sunshine. Her subconscious took over and propelled her towards home, while two thoughts chased each other like kittens in her head. Why did Spike stop, and why did she want to keep going?

Willow was pretty proud of herself. She'd gotten herself and Buffy out of the house for a much-needed girl date, despite having absolutely no help from Buffy. Willow had clenched her teeth and asked Spike to watch Dawn - it was better than asking Tara, that was for sure - and cajoled Buffy into dressing up a little. Really, if Buffy didn't stop wearing so much grey and black Willow was going to scream! And now they were sitting at the Bronze, full of pizza and maybe gearing up for ice cream, and Willow felt it was going well. Buffy had talked a little about her money worries, and how she felt about Giles leaving, and how she was glad to have gotten back into college but that she really hated Romantic Poetry. Willow had managed to only mention Tara twice - ok, maybe three times - and had stuck to her inner rule of not mentioning magic or Spike's stupid protection spell, since that seemed to annoy Buffy. 

But now, drink in hand at the bar, Willow couldn't resist anymore. She was so excited to tell Buffy about Yllaine, and maybe it would get back to Tara and maybe... Willow turned to Buffy.

"So, Buffy, Giles called me," she began. 

"Really?" Buffy's face fell. "He hasn't called me at all since he left, even though he promised to."

"Uh, I think it was from a payphone or something. He sounded like he was in transit somewhere and really busy. And it was a short phonecall because he just had one important thing to tell me!"

"What was that?" Buffy asked, and even though Willow sensed that the question was obligatory it was enough invitation. 

"Ok, well, he told me that he'd talked to the Devon witches and that they recommended someone who could be a better teacher for me than he could. He said this lady would... um, not get pissed about some of the stuff I've done, and help me, um, ...not have to use magic all the time." That was Willow's least favorite part. Giles had actually called her a specialist in advanced magic and "magical rehabilitation" because apparently even powerful people got overwhelmed by magic's potential blah blah blah...

"That sounds great, Will," said Buffy. "Do you have to leave Sunnydale, though?"

Willow heard the defeat in Buffy's voice with that question, and was happy to be able to make it go away. "No, no, she's here! Her name is Yllaine and I met her yesterday, and she's amazing. She knows all these white magic spells and has so many books... I wish I'd met her before! She's so beautiful, and really kind. She's not mad at me at all, and she makes it sound so easy to not do magic all the time."

"How's that?" asked Buffy.

"Well she can sense the residue left behind by a spell, and she explained that a lot of it actually makes things around you... stickier. Like your spells aren't as precise or sometimes not as strong when you've done lots of little things. Which makes so much sense! So not only is there a good reason not to use magic for convenience, but she could tell if I had anyway and I want her to like me. I think you'd like her too, Buffy."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded her head a little. "Maybe you can bring her to dinner in a few weeks, or something."

"That sounds great, but she's all... strict student-teacher relationshippy right now. I'm hoping she'll relax after she sees how committed I am, though."

"I'm sure she will... I'm happy for you," said Buffy. 

Willow had almost finished her drink, and as she gestured to the bartender for another she decided to just go for it. "Buffy... are you happy? I mean, happier? I can't tell... I can't even tell if you blame me or not. For -" Willow took a deep breath. This was the sort of thing Yllaine would do, she told herself. Acknowledge verbally her mistakes. If Yllaine ever made any, which Willow kind of doubted. But. "For pulling you out of heaven," Willow finished.

"Oh, Will..." Buffy paused for a long time, and Willow felt a kind of sick ball start to form in her stomach. "Of course I don't blame you. I know being here is better for Dawn but-"

"Dawnie told me the first thing you said when you came back was "is this hell?" interrupted Willow.

"Um - I don't remember. It might have been. It's not that you were wrong -" Buffy hesitated. "It's just hard for me. I want to be here with Dawn, and you, and when Giles was here I felt..."

"It's hard but it's getting better, right?" Willow prompted. 

"Yeeeah, I guess." Buffy drained the rest of her drink. "Anyway, I don't remember heaven as much as I used to."

"Well, Buffy, you can always rely on me," said Willow, proud of her friend for moving forward. "I will always try to help." The witch took what she deemed an adequate pause. "So anything happen with that protection thingy of Spike's?"

Buffy ordered another drink and shook her head. "Not that I can tell. It hasn't hurt me, if that's what you -" 

"No, no," Willow lied. "Just curious!"

"I dunno, I guess I haven't gotten in trouble fighting recently. And maybe it's a one shot deal, or something."

"Or it could just not be working! Maybe Spike broke it when he was bringing it back."

"It did seem to hurt him a lot, when it transferred to me..." Buffy sounded reluctant, so Willow decided it was time to change subjects.

"Whatever, I'm sure you'll find out." Willow patted Buffy on the back. "BUT while we're on the subject of spells, can I tell you about this one Yllaine is going to let me try?!"

***************

Spike was assiduous in ignoring the popcorn that was being aimed at his head in regular intervals. They were watching a bloomin' Bogart flick, didn't teenage girls like the moody secret-filled look anymore? Apparently not, because finally Dawn flung a whole handful at Spike and just started talking over the movie.

"Ok, Spike, come on! Why don't you come over anymore? You watched me almost every night for a whole summer - don't you miss me? I miss you! Buffy is so meh all the time and nobody tells me anything. And now you just want to sit quietly!"

"I don't come round that often for a lot of reasons, pet," said Spike, finding a pool of patience inside himself. "One, nobody has asked me."

"I'm asking you!" 

"TWO, there's not the need anymore, so much. Willow is home to keep an eye on you and vamp activity is down."

"But it's down because there's a bogeyman here! You should be extra watchy right now," complained the teenager.

"When Buffy asks for me, I'll be here," said Spike. "You, too, if you want to know. I just don't want to come round when you and Buffy might need some time together." 

"When Buffy spends time with me it's like hanging out with a bowl of pudding," said Dawn. "Actually, worse, pudding is tasty and edible. Buffy is just... there like a gelatinous puddle. She hardly talks to me. I told her I had a crush on this guy Zac, in my class, and she just nodded!"

"Maybe your crushes aren't all that interesting, eh?"

Dawn hit Spike with a pillow. "I at least expected some kind of cross-examination and lots of warnings about boys! Plus, Buffy used to think hearing about my crushes was fun. And Zac is so... perfect. He's got red hair - I know, right? who would've thought I'd go for a ginger! - and the best hands, and -"

"Dawn," Spike remembered why he used to like feeding on teenage girls - when the chatter ceased it was flippin' blissful. "I don't think hearing about your crushes is fun."

Dawn skewered the vampire with a look, in that way only put-out 16 year olds can. "Ok, SPIKE." She folded her arms. "Let's talk about your crush. On my SISTER." Spike hooded his eyes and thought about murder. "Come on, it'll be fun!" 

"Shut up, Dawn."

"Actually, you're right. I don't want to talk about Buffy, exactly. What I really want to know is: are you ever considerate and sensitive towards anybody else?" Dawn raised her eyebrows and half-pouted and Spike found himself startled. What a question.

"Well, Niblet, depends on what you call considerate," he tried.

"Just ‘cause you have a pet name for me doesn't mean you don't have to answer the question," Dawn shot back. Spike winced. "You're so... smart with Buffy. You seem to make her more relaxed than any of us these days, and that's gotta be because you're actually thinking about what she wants."

"Not exactly..." Spike said, giving in to the kid's line of questioning. She was a Summers, it wouldn't stop until he addressed it. "I guess I think about what she wants but I don't worry about it. You lot worry about it, left right and center. Buffy doesn't want to be worried about. Makes her feel pressured and like she has to lie. I just let her be and sometimes talk to her like I did before."

"I try to make it like it was before, and it doesn't work!"

"Not make it anything," said Spike, knowing as he said it that he was trying to make something - make Buffy love him. But that was besides the point, here and now. "I said treat her like before on occasion, not pretend that she's the same. You're not always going to get a response from her for now, Dawn. She's been through a trauma and needs to be gently reminded of who she is, not whacked over the head with it."

"Who's whacking anybody?" demanded Dawn.

"Well, I'll be whacking Zac if he puts a single orange-fuzzed little toe wrong," Spike said, done with the conversation. "I may not be as ‘sensitive' as you hope, Niblet, but my promise to protect you is... up to my own interpretation." He dug up an evil, unpleasant smile for her. 

"Uhhhh Spike!" squealed Dawn. "I don't even know if he likes me, and besides you can't hurt humans!"

"I can get one good blow in," retorted Spike, "and I doubt Zac would need much more than that."

 "Who's... blowing Zac?" asked Willow, and the two looked up to see her and Buffy in the door frame. Willow started to giggle, "Not me, that's for sure!" 

"Willow! Dawn's right here!" 

Spike could feel Buffy's sisterly ire from the couch. He stood up, popcorn falling everywhere, and turned on the light.

"OW," Dawn protested, shielding her eyes. "Spike, we haven't finished the movie. And Buffy I know what a blowjob is, how old do you think I am?"

"You weren't watching the movie, pet," Spike cut in. "And I should be off, the ladies are home now." He sniffed and waggled his eyebrows. "Even if Red is a little drunk."

"I am NOT," said Willow, and gave Spike a rather hard ‘friendly' punch.

The vampire looked down at his arm like it was painted blue, and then looked at Willow. "Oh, we aren't chums, Red. So I think that little bit right there proves you're not in your head."

"Shut uppp, then, Spike, if we're not ‘chums'," Willow made a face at him.

"Ok," Buffy jumped in, even though Spike could see how tired she was. "Will, let's get you up to bed. Dawn, why aren't you in your pajamas?"

"Cause it's Friday night!"

"And now it's way past midnight," said Buffy. "Go get ready for bed."

"But I'm not tired," the younger Summers seemed like she was about to start in on a right proper whine, so Spike intervened.

"Dawn, listen to your sister. Go to bed now and I'll come visit again before the weekend's out." The girl looked at him with suspicion. "For a while. I'll come just to visit YOU. Now quit acting like a cranky toddler."

"Fine," Dawn started to flounce towards the stairs and then stopped. "And stay away from Zac!"

The name started Willow on another giggling fit. She followed Dawn up the stairs, asking "Dawnie, who's Zac? And why is Spike blowing him...?" That made full-on laughter tumble down from the upstairs landing, and Spike caught even Buffy grinning a little.

"You think that's funny, eh love?" asked Spike, sauntering into Buffy's personal space. "Don't tell me you wouldn't like to watch."

Buffy shoved him, but playfully. "Is there something you want to tell me about your... interests, Spike?"

"I was expecting another ‘gross' if truth be told," Spike said, surprised into genuineness. 

"Well if men can be into watching two women I don't see what the problem is!" Buffy moved so she fit into Spike as close as she could without touching him. "Awww, Spike, did I catch you trying to make me uncomfortable?" 

She HAD caught him out, and now the vampire was somewhere between aroused, intrigued and embarrassed. Spike looked down saw Buffy's face, full of humor and recklessness. He tried to think of some response, but was all caught up in the idea of Buffy getting over her prudishness... and how close she was. Before he could make up his mind on what to say, Buffy got right into his face and started kissing him. Spike's mind went empty, but his arms wrapped themselves around his girl. Buffy dominated the kiss, controlling Spike's mouth with hers and positively vibrating against him. He could taste a hint of - bourbon? - warm and sweet to his lips. Buffy brought a hand up to his throat and squeezed a little, and Spike felt himself respond with a thrust of his hips as she gently choked him. Then she pushed his chin back and took her lips down along his jawline, then his throat. She kissed where she had choked and moved on to his collarbone, where she laid on a dozen tiny kisses, then a nip. At the delicate touch of her teeth, Spike had to swallow a moan. Buffy kissed him once more, right where she'd nipped, and then backed off.

"Something to take your mind off... Zac," she said, wickedly. "Night, Spike, you should get going." 

Spike's head wheeled as she went up the stairs. If that was Buffy getting even, who knew what was in store if they ever moved on to the main event. He thought about waiting outside for a bit, sneaking up to her bedroom, but decided against it. Better to not push his luck, and to let her sleep off that bourbon. Spike left, and as he carefully closed the door he snickered a little to himself. Rather fond of this crush of Dawn's already, he was.

Buffy really wanted to be enjoying this fight, but just wasn't. For one, the demon was pretty stinky. For another, her head wasn't staying in the game - as much as she tried to keep focused, her thoughts kept drifting off to Giles being gone and calling Willow but not HER like he promised. That thought led to Buffy being annoyed at Willow for talking about herself the whole time last night, and for getting drunk. Which led to Buffy being embarrassed because she was also a little drunk last night, and had sort of confessed a fantasy to Spike right before aggressively kissing him. Great. While the look on the vampire's face had been very rewarding indeed, Buffy had no idea what to do about him and knew she shouldn't have acted like it was some fun sort of game.

Buffy sighed and began twirling into a high kick - and the demon knocked her grounded leg right out from under her. She landed, winded, and in a moment the demon had pounced on top of her, crouching and grinning. The Slayer squirmed (when did Captain Stinksalot get that fast?!) and tried to avoid the goo dripping off the thing's face. It reared up to take a bite or do something awful and murderous and Buffy just stared at it. She couldn't think of what to do. There was some move that might get her out of this... maybe, but was there even a point? And why wasn't the protection spell kicking in?

As Buffy lay there, just before the big crunch happened, all of a sudden a streak of black tipped with white shot at the monster and threw it off Buffy. She tuned in and realized that Spike had been shouting at her for a while.

"CHRIST Slayer, get your act together! What was that?! Going to let an idiot Porp demon get you?" the vampire yelled as he pummeled away.

Buffy got up and shook herself and went in to help. Maybe that would shut Spike up. Together, they cornered the demon - which, now that Buffy was paying attention, was actually pretty stupid - and Spike reached up, ripped off a tree branch and jammed it through the thing's throat. It died gurgling and without even taking a beat, Spike turned to Buffy.

"I haven't seen such poor fighting since Xander thought he could help patrol! What in sweet Mary's virgin panties was that, Buffy?"

Well, that was one way to take Spike's mind off making out with her. Almost get herself killed and boy would he be distracted. For some reason the thought was funny to Buffy, and she couldn't help herself from starting to giggle a little.

Spike stared at her, looking appalled. Then he turned and stalked away, muttering to himself about stupid bints dreaming about clothes instead of fighting. 

"Hey!" Buffy found herself yelling and scrambling after the bleached head. "I wasn't dreaming about clothes! Spike, come on." She knew she should just let him walk away and be mad at her, but she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to make jokes about how "Porp" demon sounded like what it smelled like and not have to go home yet. 

Buffy was right at Spike's back when he suddenly turned around, so fast that he elbowed her hard in her chest. Buffy doubled inward, pain spidering out of her breastbone, and fell back on the grass. In an instant, Spike was at her side.

"Oh lord, love, I'm sorry! Didn't mean it, my bad," he babbled, hovering over her. 

Concerned mother hen Spike face also struck Buffy as funny, and she was about to start laughing when she realized - no migraine. Spike had bounced right to her side without enough time to recover from the chip, and she hadn't heard any of his signature chip zap arghs. She sat up immediately, almost knocking Spike over.

"Spike," she said, devoid of any humor. "You didn't get a headache, just now. Did you?"

"What?" Spike looked confused at first, but Buffy saw a curtain of understanding come over his face. "Yes, I did, it was just not so bad."

"Spike. I can tell you're lying. You've never, ever, gotten zapped by the chip and not started bellowing about it."

"Come on, pet, I don't bellow," Spike was trying to smile at her.

"Is the chip not working? How long has it not been working? Are you feeding again?"

Spike just looked at Buffy, anger starting to filter into his features. She didn't care - she was furious. Here they were, playing nearly best friends and kissing in secret and Spike was keeping the biggest secret of all. If he was feeding on humans again, she WOULD stake him. She was as dumb as that Porp demon for trusting him, sharing with him! And it seemed like Willow could be right, that protection spell was bollocks, to borrow a certain soulless vampire's phrase. Soulless. Vampire. Soulless. Vampire. That was her new mantra.

"I'll have you know, I haven't tried feeding on anyone in a long time," Spike interrupted the mantra. "So if the chip isn't working, this is the first I know of it, right?"

"Fine, even if I believe you, if your chip isn't working you have to stay under supervision until we get it fixed." Buffy grabbed Spike's arm to march him - where? to her basement? somewhere, it was better than staking him. Which she would do, she just didn't want to, I mean he did love her and had gotten her a shiny magical present at great risk... if he was telling the truth, which now was questionable.

Spike wrenched his arm out of her grip. "Stay under supervision? Who do you think I am, your kid sister? And FIX it? Are you out of your bloody gourd? I'm constantly a liability because I can't fight humans!"

"That's the point of the chip, Spike, you can't fight humans!"

"There are bad humans out there too, you know!"

"SPIKE why don't you get it? If you aren't chipped, I can't trust you!" 

That ended the shouting match. Spike heard that last sentence and looked like he'd just gotten a bazooka in the gut. 

"And I don't want to lose you as a member of the team," Buffy added, trying to be honest. 

"You can't trust me?" Spike wasn't shouting anymore. His voice was low and flat. "If the only reason you let me in was because you had a muzzle on me, then you never trusted me."

The vampire turned on his heel, making his coat swirl out behind him. All of a sudden, Buffy saw him as she hadn't for a long time: a sinister creature of the undead. 

"Spike!" Buffy couldn't shake that image, all she knew was that he couldn't be on his own unchipped. She started after him.

"Don't even try with me, Slayer," Spike turned back for a minute. "Maybe you should figure out why you want me on your team - apart from me saving your life just now and all - and then we'll talk."

Buffy stopped. As Spike disappeared into the shadows of the cemetery, she tried to understand everything he'd said. He just wanted to put her off his true intentions, that was all. Of course Buffy couldn't trust him - he didn't have a soul, so without the chip what would prevent him from feeding on humans? Unless... she shook her head. Reformed soulless vampires only existed in tween fiction. She couldn't let another Angelus happen again, let her feelings for an evil - an evil - THING - get in the way of her duty. Let this friendship that had become important cost a life... 

Buffy wasn't sure why she had tears in her eyes, but she did know they blinded her as she gripped her stake and turned to follow Spike. 

***************

The vampire in question was hurting pretty badly, but not so badly he didn't know how to be practical. First things first, find out if the chip really was broken. Then he'd deal with how little the love of his life believed in him. 

As Spike made a beeline for the college campus (drunken frat boys, always worth a slug or two), he realized he didn't know what he was hoping for. That the chip was broken, or wasn't. He definitely hadn't felt a thing when he elbowed Buffy, but maybe it hadn't hurt her? Spike remembered her white face and shook his head. It had hurt, for sure. Then maybe the chip was giving him a break, because it wasn't intentional? Spike gave a sour laugh. When had it ever mattered whether he meant to hurt a human or not? He got zapped all the same. Well, off to see the wizard it was.

After punching several inebriated cave troll-esque males, Spike had a migraine that wouldn't quit and a couple of sore spots from the lads' friends trying to teach him a lesson. It seemed like the chip was working just fine, and if Buffy really was going to come after him Spike had better not incapacitate himself for her. He didn't know how serious she was - staking hadn't quite come up, but it had been in both their heads, he knew it. Honestly, who was he kidding? If Buffy was ready to stake him, if she trusted him that little, he might as well let her. There was no way she'd ever love him if she still thought of him as a dastardly vicious thing with no morals. He wanted to show her that he'd learned something of morality alongside of her, that he had no more interest in murdering people. Yeah, he missed the taste of human blood, but every delectable teenage girl was a Dawn to him now, every gorgeous California blonde a Buffy. Even these useless frat kids were a Xander, important to someone, and every time Spike thought he didn't care, he remembered the crushing blackness that had descended upon him after Buffy's jump. He could lie, and cheat, and steal, hurt and intimidate without qualm, but murder? He couldn't do it. How much of that was because he knew Buffy would repudiate him, Spike wasn't sure, but he knew that at least part of it was knowing unbearable loss. Inflicting that required the truest evil... and what was it the Three had said? "And now not so dark inside?" Hah. Joke was on old Spikey.

"Spike, there you are!" a voice interrupted Spike's semi-coherent thinking, and the vampire whirled around. He ploughed right into Xander, bumping his head hard into the human's. Mutual cries burst from both of them, but Spike's was, admittedly, a bellow. The chip was frying him yet again, so that answered the accidental question. Then what had happened with Buffy? Confused and in horrible pain, Spike let himself sink to the pavement. Let the meathead see his weakness, who cared.

"Geez, Spike, you look out of it," Xander said, rubbing his head. "You drunk or something?"

"Not a bit, but that's a damn great suggestion. What do you want?"

"Buffy is looking for you," Xander replied. "I don't know why, but she wouldn't tell me AND she looked pretty freaked so I'm assuming it's a fighting evil thing." The boy cocked his head at Spike. "Not that you look in any shape for fighting..."

She wouldn't tell the whelp why, huh? Well, that was a bit heartening. The Slayer hadn't wanted to start a witch-hunt, at least. If she was going to off him, at least it sounded like she planned on doing it in person. 

"You can tell her I'll be at my crypt," Spike told Xander. No point in putting off the inevitable. He wasn't going to leave Sunnydale, not with a Demon Lord around - no matter how silent - and his life wasn't worth much without Buffy in it. Besides, maybe it was just a fluke. 

"Great, of course I'll be messenger boy of the hour Spike, thanks for asking" Xander said. "And by the way - I don't like how much Buffy is relying on you these days. I'll be watching you, vamp boy."

"Get bent," Spike said absent-mindedly, and got up to hobble off. Xander could watch him all he wanted. The important thing now was to get the better part of a bottle of whiskey in himself before his cold-hearted lady showed up.

By the time Spike made it back to his crypt, however, Buffy was already there waiting for him. She just stood, arms crossed, and Spike was relieved not to see a stake show up immediately. He made a beeline for his liquor stash, and pulled out a full handle of self-medication. Glugging straight from the bottle, Spike sauntered back over to Buffy.

"Well, love, if you're here to dust me, I'm sorry to tell you that the chip still works."

"What? How do you know? Did you try to feed on someone already?" Buffy's voice went up in octave with each question.

"Thanks for yet another vote of confidence, love," Spike rolled his eyes and took a swig to cover the hurt. You'd think he'd have gotten used to such accusations by now. "I went over to a fraternity and tried to punch a whole house of drunken human boys. Every single one gave me one hell of a headache."

"Frat boys?" Buffy looked confused.

"They always deserve it," explained Spike. "I even accidentally headbutted Xander when he was looking for me, and that hurt so bad it just about knocked me out. So chippy chip is firing on all cylinders, Slayer. Must've been a fluke, earlier."

"A fluke...?" Buffy frowned. "Why? Unless the chip is degrading or something..."

"Could be," responded Spike, looser now a third of the whiskey was warming his insides. "Shoddy Initiative work, after all. And if that's the case, then we're just going to have to have this nice little chat eventually, won't we pet?"

"Don't call me pet," Buffy said, lamely. 

"Whatever. So you gonna stake me now, or later?" Spike could hear his own bitterness, and wondered if it mattered at all to the woman in front of him.

"Spike... I don't want to hurt you," said Buffy. "If the chip is working, I won't." She paused and walked up to Spike so they were eye to eye. "Hit me."

"What?" Spike just about dropped his whiskey. "No, Jesus, Buffy. I don't want to hit you. Under certain... circumstances," the vampire dug up an eyebrow waggle from his last reserve of snarkiness, "I'd be fine with a little kink, but not now, eh?"

"No, Spike, I'm serious." Buffy was unreadable, all of a sudden. "Hit me. What if it's me?" She paused. "What if the chip doesn't work on just me?"

Spike hadn't even considered that possibility. What was different about Buffy? He paced for a minute, taking gulps of whiskey as he did, and then it hit him. She'd been brought back from the dead. What if... what if that was why? Would that mean she was - less than human now?

"Fine," Spike said, not sure where his acquiescence came from. Maybe because he knew Buffy wouldn't give up, maybe because if she wasn't quite human... they could be not quite human together.

They faced each other, and Spike lightly slapped Buffy's arm. No pain.

"Come on, Spike!" Buffy said, angry now. "Actually hit me, you've done it before!"

"Come on, pet," he began, and then she was raining punches and kicks on him. Maybe it was reflex, or the whiskey, but out of no where and at top speed he reached out, picked her up and threw her against the wall. And she let him. Immediately contrite, the vampire rushed over to Buffy. 

"I'm so sorry, love, are you all right? I didn't mean to hurt you that badly," he told her. "I'm a wee bit drunk and you surprised me."

"That didn't hurt you, did it." It was a statement, as Buffy got up and brushed off her back. "It hurt me, but nothing happened to you, huh?"

"No," Spike admitted. 

"So it's me," Buffy's face was carved out of marble, still and too far to reach. "The chip doesn't think I'm human."

They stood staring at each other for a very long time. Finally Buffy shook herself and turned to go.  

"I guess I don't have to stake you after all," she said, dully.

"No, you don't," Spike shot back. Hearing the S word threat finally come out of her mouth rocked him, and he couldn't stop himself. "Because you're a thing like me, now, aren't you? The chip doesn't think you're human because you're not. You came back wrong, Buffy, admit it now. Have you felt right since? You seek me out, you seek out the dark, because that's what feels best. Don't you?"

The blood seeped out of Buffy's cheeks, and Spike knew he was getting to her.

"You belong with me," he changed his tone to coaxing. "We can be dark things together. We can fight on the side of the light, but as who we really are. Not quite human. Not quite good. Warriors, embracing that side of ourselves. You've felt it, Buffy, haven't you?" The vampire was almost crooning now. "You like it. The violence, the blood. You're drawn to it, to me, you wouldn't be you without your love of the dark."

"Stop, Spike," Buffy's voice was tiny, and her eyes seemed not to see him. She walked out of his crypt like she was the bot, mechanical and unaware. Spike didn't try to stop her. She'd need time, of course she would, but she'd see it his way. 

The Three came to Spike's mind, and he paused. Was this a choice? He thought for a moment, and decided that if it was, he'd made the right one. If he was meant to be her consort, then Buffy had to acknowledge her dark side. She'd made it clear that she didn't trust him as things were, so the only way anything could happen between them was if she had to change her black and white view of the world. And it wasn't like he was making it all up. The chip had confirmed something, and the Slayer did have an obvious and historic affinity for the dark. 

So why didn't he feel better? Settling into his recliner, the vampire figured it was just because he didn't like waiting, and continued to suck down good old Jameson.

After a few weeks of almost nothing, a few more frozen blood bodies had finally shown up. Willow figured Buffy knew about it, since she'd been looking for Spike like crazy last night when they got shattered, but nope - it was the next morning and Buffy seemed utterly clueless.

Willow was pretty proud of herself again, this time for hacking into the coroner's report and downloading pictures of the bodies, all on her own initiative. Not to mention taking on the Giles role and making Buffy sit down and look at the photos! Willow had thought they were making progress, but Buffy was back in space cadet land and it was all the witch could do to get her attention. Luckily, when faced with some of the nastiest bodies they'd seen in a long time, Buffy pulled it together. 

"This is seriously gross," was the first thing out of the Slayer's mouth, but she clicked to the next one anyway. "All of their skin is... shredded. It would be impossible to identify them." 

Willow had to agree. The human body had a lot of blood in it, and when all 5 liters of that blood shattered... nothing was left intact. Nothing. Willow shuddered, and decided to lighten things up with a little joke. 

"Frozen blood - isn't that a vampire's frosty treat? I bet Spike would be into it!" 

"No," said Buffy. "Not even Spike would want to feed on these."

"Sheesh, Buffy, I was just joking," Willow pouted. She couldn't tell from Buffy's face what the deal was, but she was sick of all the recent ‘Spike's so great' crap. Even Giles had said that Spike might be useful. Whatever happened to remembering he was an evil soulless demon with hidden motives? Or - not so hidden motives, i.e. trying to get in her best friend's pants! 

"All the same age, according to these records... I can't really tell, but seems like they were wearing the ‘I'm a socially functional but boring dude' uniform," Buffy flipped back and forth between a few of the files, muttering.

 "What's the socially functional but boring dude uniform?" asked Willow, still trying to inject some brightness into this slumber party. 

"You know, jeans, collared shirt in a neutral color pretty open at the neck but not tucked in, flip flops or nice-ish sneakers."

"Ah, that uniform," Willow nodded. "How can you even tell, though? Their clothes got shredded too!"

"Not completely... I'm good with clothes, remember?"

"I remember you used to be, but recently not so much with the cute outfits, huh?" Willow didn't mean to, but the criticism just slipped out. She just felt so depressed, despite Yllaine, and having Buffy mope around in the colors of a graveyard wasn't helping! 

Buffy didn't even respond, though - typical. Instead she sighed and got up. 

"I don't think we're going to get much more out of these body photos," she said. "The weirdest thing is that the coroner's report seems to show that nothing was taken from them. No blood, it was all at the scene, and no missing... bits." The blonde made a squicked out noise.

"Same with the other guys. There were even witnesses when they... exploded or whatever. Nobody around, no beasties nibbling."

"Who were the other guys, did they ever find out?"

"I looked it up this morning, actually," Willow paused for praise. Buffy just raised an eyebrow and Willow huffed on. "They were all in their mid twenties, male, attractive if you're into that sort of thing, came here for college and stayed. Out on a boys' night bowling, friends, but no other similarities. Two had girlfriends." She shrugged.

"Hmm. So what kind of creature likes to take out young guys just for fun?" Buffy asked.

"... a Demon Lord?" Willow pointed out. "Spike did say they are evil mostly for the fun of it. And, I guess it is possible that they could've harvested some sort of power from such instant and simultaneous mystical deaths?"

"Harvested, gross word," complained Buffy. "Makes me think of Soylent Green, or something."

"You know what Solyent Green is?" Willow laughed. "Old dystopian movies don't seem like your thing, Buffy."

 "I had to watch it for class. It wasn't that bad... unintentionally hilarious sometimes... what does dystopical mean?"

"Dystopian," corrected Willow. "It means... about an imaginary horrible future, usually hallmarked by corrupt governmental control and lack of resources."

"Ah... now I get why we watched it in environmental science," said Buffy. 

Willow wasn't sure that SHE got that, but let it go. She heard a clatter upstairs, and closed her laptop. "Sounds like Dawnie is getting up."

"Yeah. I'll get on making her pancakes, unless you could? I need to go to the library and write a paper at some point today..." 

"Way to be a good student, Buffy! Of course I'll make pancakes with Dawn. And just remember - tonight Spike promised to visit her, so he'll be over here." Willow wished she knew why both the Summers sisters were so drawn to a short vamp with bad fashion sense. 

"Oh, right," Buffy said, and Willow was relieved to see that she didn't seem pleased. 

"I'll supervise if you need me to?" offered the witch. 

"No, it's ok. Spike protected Dawn for a whole summer while I was... gone. Why don't you do something?"

"Ok. I'm studying with Yllaine this afternoon, so maybe we can have a longer session or something. Now, go write your essay! It's making of the cakes of pan time!" Willow beamed. She was getting so good at communicating, and focusing on the happy things. Now if she could just make sure that Tara knew how well she was doing. 

***************

Buffy got home late, after Spike had already left, thank god. She wasn't ready to see him yet, not after last night. Why had he said all those things to her? That she was evil - well, he hadn't said that exactly, but it was only a quick jump from inhuman lover of the dark to evil. Wasn't it? Buffy valued Spike partly for his honesty, but right now she could've dealt with a little less of it. She couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was right, and that everyone else was thinking she'd come back wrong but were too polite to say so. That maybe they all wished they'd never bothered to resurrect her. Well, she wished that most of the time, too. 

"Dawn's already in bed," Willow said, interrupting Buffy's thoughts. "And why are you sitting in the dark?" The witch flipped on the lights and sat down next to Buffy. "How was the library day?"

"It was fine." Buffy didn't want to get into the details of her psych paper. She'd chosen to write about Zimbardo's prisoners and guards experiment at Stanford, perhaps unwisely. Reading about how people were capable of atrocities they never thought they could commit had not helped her mood. As Buffy read, she had wanted to scream at the participants, remind them it was just an experiment. Not real. Not real.

"Well, I had an amazing day with Yllaine again," Willow boasted. "We worked with this ancient Egyptian spell that you have to have a completely clear mind for. It was such a great exercise, and taught me so much..." 

Buffy tuned out as Willow kept going on about the technical details of her spellwork. She'd never met this Yllaine, so the story started out boring and just kept going. Buffy laughed a little internally when the thought occurred to her that she was never bored by Spike. He was a great storyteller, maybe because he didn't seem to NEED to tell them. Unfortunately, he was also good at asking tough questions, as last night had proved.

"...Spike," finished Willow, and rolled her eyes. The vampire's name jarred Buffy back into the room and she shook her head.

"Sorry, Will, what? I was distracted thinking about my... uh, my paper. What about Spike?"

"Just that apparently Dawn had an amazing time with him, blah blah blah. And then he was SO rude when I asked him to leave. Obviously just hanging around waiting for you to show up. I'm really worried about when Dawn realizes he doesn't care about her at all, that he's just using his friendship with her to impress you. Ugh, vampires!"

 "Um, I think Spike actually does care about Dawn," Buffy ventured. "He always asks me about her, I dunno." 

"When does he ask you about her?" Willow nearly exploded. "Are you spending that much time with him? Geez Buffy, I thought you had more sense than that. He's still a) soulless and b) a vampire, you know blood-sucking creature of the dark? That kind of vampire? Loves violence and mayhem, lost his humanity hundreds of years ago? Who happens to be in some weird twisted love with you! He'd probably throw Dawn under a train if it meant you'd kiss him."

Buffy shifted on the couch. Plenty of kissage had already happened, but Willow didn't need to know that. She wanted to defend the vampire, but couldn't quite muster any words. 

"Buffy, look, you know I just want you to be happy and safe," continued her friend. "I don't mean to upset you, and I admit Spike's been a good fighter from time to time. I just think you have to never forget that he isn't human. That he doesn't have a soul, and that means it is impossible for him to be on the side of good. That's all."

"He's done a lot of good things," Buffy felt like her words must sound like the creaks from a door hinge. A sad, possibly inhuman door hinge.

"I know, Buffy, but he's still Spike. His idea of fun is vicious fighting and murder. You have to remember that no soul equals bad. We know this! If I lost my soul, I'd hope that you wouldn't treat me like your friend. I'd be a completely different person, untrustworthy and just... wrong. You might even have to get rid of me." Willow preened at her self-sacrifice, and Buffy suddenly felt a burst of disgust for everything around her. 

"I have to go patrol," she said. "We can talk about this later." Willow just sat there, gaping at Buffy's sudden departure from the couch. Thankful for the lack of protest, Buffy scooted herself right out the door and down the block as fast as she could.

As she walked down the quiet block, Buffy began to feel worse and worse. What if SHE didn't have a soul? What if they'd managed to successfully bring back her body and mind and memories, but she was missing her soul? That might explain her lack of emotion, her disinterest in everything except an undead guy, and why the chip didn't fire when Spike hit her. It could even explain the recurrent nightmares of being back in the ground, trying and failing to emerge - the message was that she wasn't supposed to come back. Her body should've stayed in the box in the dirt, where not having a soul wasn't a problem. Buffy felt like she still was on the side of good, but clearly Willow didn't think that was possible. ‘I'd be a completely different person... just wrong.' Buffy shuddered. What if the others found out? What if Dawnie found out?

Buffy began to run. Where, she wasn't sure, but with these things in her head, it was the only thing she could do.

***************

Spike lay on a big old sarcophagus, looking up at the stars and smoking. After being unceremoniously shoved out the door by Willow the moment the witch got home, Spike wasn't quite sure what to do. He'd wanted to linger until Buffy showed her face. He was hoping she'd see how good he was with Dawn and be reassured or some such. See, Slayer, inhuman thing getting along all peachy keen like with a teenage girl, not so bad. Maybe she was trying to keep her distance from him - was that a good or a bad thing? 

He'd also gotten a bit of an update from Dawn - apparently three more men had died of all the blood in their veins shattering blah blah. The Niblet had eavesdropped on Buffy and Willow from the top of the stairs, and told him that they thought the murders had been for fun, or for energy. Spike didn't like it, but he was betting on the former. Unless the men were magic wielders or carriers of mystical power, the energy from even instantaneous death wouldn't be all that much in the eyes of a Demon Lord. And Spike remembered his days of evil, when causing death and pain for fun was his full-time avocation. But the idea that enjoyment was behind these bodies made the vampire shudder. Demon Lord out for fun and games of destruction, no strategy to help them predict his or her moves... not an easy foe to fight. A monster acting on its every chaotic whim, one of the scariest things he could imagine.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Buffy's singsong voice rang out from just a few tombstones away, and Spike sat up. He started to look around for his lady, but was almost immediately struck by a blow that tumbled him off the stone rectangle and into the grass. 

"Come on, Spike!" Buffy said, feral and sharp. "Hit me back. Let's go!" She waited above him, bobbing like a boxer.

"Buffy, pet, whatever it is, can we talk about it?" Spike said in a voice he imagined a man would use to try and calm a lioness.  

"I'm sick of talking!" Buffy feinted a kick at Spike's crotch that he just barely managed to deflect with his knee.

"Oi, Buffy! Whatever's got your tits in a knot, you can tell me, but quit it!" Spike got up, looking for a way to penetrate Buffy's defenses and shake her. 

"No thanks, Spike! I want to have FUN! What else would we do together, us evil soulless freaks, but get our violence on?!"

All Spike could think was "soulless? Wha-" and then Buffy was fighting like he'd hoped to see her fight ever since she came back from the grave. Elegant, lethal, precise. Only problem was it was directed at him, and now Spike remembered what a challenge this Slayer was. Fierce, intuitive, in perfect control of her superhuman strength and balletic in her agile flexibility. He found himself fighting back, hard but reluctant. Every time he landed a blow, he remembered all over again that he wanted to stop, but before he could Buffy would get in her own strike and he'd be rushing to defend, deflect, slow her down.

They danced across the thick grass, crushing it beneath them and adding a vegetal tang to the night air. Spike weaved and jumped around tombstones, only to be met by Buffy directly in front of him every time. She was grinning like a comic-book villain, joyless and too wide. Spike felt as though he was losing, that under different circumstances he'd fear for himself instead of his girl's sanity. Buffy just kept coming, and Spike's heart wasn't in it.

 As though he'd said that last thought aloud, Buffy yelled, "Stop faking it! Fight me like the Big Bad, Spike!" 

Spike felt resolve come into his chest. If that was what would get Buffy to stop, then so be it. He threw himself into his moves, no longer resisting. Instead of refusing to take the opening on her right flank, he went for it and landed a solid kick on her ribs. He stopped letting her back him across the cemetery and began to take the offensive, watching her stumble backwards instead. After a brief period of surprise, Buffy responded and it became clear that they were perfectly matched. A timeless, eternal dance between them. Spike was enjoying this against his will, the exertion and the adrenaline. He fought for his undead existence, fought like all he wanted to do was sink his teeth into this Slayer's neck.

And then he had her, in a high school prom clinch, his teeth at her neck - but not without cost. The sharp point of a stake burned into his breastbone, keeping the two of them just separate enough. After all that movement, the stillness felt unnatural, but it was the only option. Spike could tear out Buffy's carotid artery as she staked him, but he'd still be dust. As they stood frozen, he heard the Slayer's heartbeat, smelled her sweat, felt his love for her. Instead of biting, the vampire found himself gently closing his mouth and pressing his lips to Buffy's neck instead. They stayed like that for another long moment, until Buffy dropped the stake and threw Spike back against a gravestone. He'd hardly registered the change when Buffy started kissing him with the same fervor as she'd fought him, pushing him into the lichen-covered stone. 

Now this Spike could get into. He kissed back, letting his hands wander all over Buffy's back and arse before he hitched both her legs up and around his waist. She latched on tight and let him spin them around so her back was against the gravestone, bracing her up as he tangled a hand in her hair to intensify their kiss. The proximity of violence between them made her body wrapped around his even headier, and Spike's head was swimming. He couldn't resist sliding his other hand underneath Buffy's shirt to stroke the top of her breast in its little lace cup. Instead of throwing him off as he half-expected, Buffy bucked and moaned in response, and slid a hand down to the button of Spike's jeans. Spike let his fingers find and caress her nipple, and they kept kissing, touching for what seemed like forever. Then, somehow everything sped up, as Buffy managed to free his cock and Spike reached under her skirt to tear her panties - and all of a sudden he was inside her. Everything came to a halt as Spike's mind caught up to his body. He was surrounded by her warmth, hardly able to believe this was happening. Buffy felt so good, fit so perfectly into his arms. She clenched her muscles and swallowed his moan of understanding that this was real, with her lips all over his mouth.

"Spike," she whispered into their kiss, "Spike, oh god, Spike." At the sound of his name coated in Buffy's pleasure, Spike lost all restraint. He pushed himself inside her again and again, shoving her against the carved words of someone else's life. Buffy stopped kissing him and put her hot face against his neck, panting, and he felt the orgasm explode through her. That did it, and Spike came hard, nearly turning blind with the pleasure of it and gasping into the night.

They remained in that position for a while, unable to think or move, until Buffy shifted and unlatched her legs. Spike put her down and quickly put himself back in his jeans. When he looked up, she was staring at him, but with what emotion behind her eyes he wasn't sure. Too aware of how easy it would be to ruin this, Spike took a risk and stepped closer to his Slayer. She didn't move away, so he leaned down and kissed her again, trying to transfer the sweet softness he felt. At first Buffy just let herself be kissed, and Spike began to be afraid. Eventually, though, she began to kiss back, tentatively at first but becoming more and more sensual. Spike felt the twinge of returning arousal, and pulled her into him. He picked her up again, holding her thighs against his hips, and thanked the Powers That Be that they were very near his crypt. Carrying Buffy as she kissed and nibbled his neck, he stumbled through the cemetery to his home. 

The moment they were in the door, Buffy's kissing got rougher. He let her down and she slithered off his body, biting hard at his neck as she went. It was enough for Spike's face to try to change, and he stared at the ceiling, willing himself to have control. When he looked back down, Buffy was kneeling in front of him, unbuttoning his fly once more. As if from far away, like he was watching one of his own dreams, Buffy pushed his pants down and put her mouth on his dick. Spike gasped and jerked into her mouth, and Buffy looked up. Seeing her meet his eyes with her lips wrapped around his stiff penis made Spike feel like coming then and there, but he wanted this round to last a bit. He pulled her up and made good use of his vampiric speed, taking off all his clothes and sweeping his girl into his arms. In a few short steps and a jump, they were in the bottom level of Spike's crypt, on the bed. 

Buffy lay fully clothed, eyes wide and lips puffed with kissing and heat. Spike leaned in and began licking and nipping at her right ear, as he slowly undid the buttons on her blouse. By the left ear, Spike had opened her shirt and unhooked her bra. He pulled Buffy up and smoothed the shirt from her shoulders, the bra down her forearms, and took a moment to imprint the perfection of her torso on his mind. Small perfectly shaped breasts, strong muscles in her stomach, those clean shoulder lines. He bent his head, pushing Buffy back into the pillows, and began to enjoy every inch of her golden skin. When his mouth came to her nipple, Buffy whimpered and thrust her hips into the air. Spike took that an as invitation to sneak his hand under her skirt, and whimpered himself at the first touch of her wet, warm pussy. He used his fingers to explore, to spread her juices up and down her folds, until he couldn't wait any longer and dove down to bury his head between her legs. Buffy let out a cry as his mouth found her clit, and Spike felt himself get even harder. He slid his fingers into her, back and forth, and kept his mouth working, finding a rhythm that built to a fever pitch. Buffy screamed as she came, and when he felt her convulsions slowing Spike pulled back and drove his cock into her, willing for her pleasure to continue riding with his. Buffy spread her legs wider, throwing her head back and dragging Spike's face to hers for another kiss. Connected at so many points, Spike's love and pleasure felt unbearable, huge and impossible, and he lost himself into Buffy, calling her name.