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Chapter 4

Buffy pulled herself free from his grasp. Her body was shaking, she felt like she was on some kind of very wrong drugs. Holding up her hand before Spike would grab her again, she put her sunglasses back atop her nose. As calmly as she could, she turned to look back at her former enemy. Opening her eyes once more, the shock was alarming, but she restrained herself, if only because he was the same strength as her and she didn’t have the energy to deal with him that way right now.

A bright, but pale yellow light came from somewhere behind him, outlining his purely masculine form. Curly light brown rings sat on top of his head, her fingers ached to reach out and run through them. His face was young, younger than she’d ever seen it, and it had laugh lines in the corners of his eyes. And his eyes! Oh, they shone, like a tear would fall from their corners at any moment. His lips were a pale pink, as well as his cheeks, and there was more color for sure. And she couldn’t see for certain, but his skin was a little darker than the paleness it usually carried.

But the real surprise came from behind him, where there hung a black liquid-like curtain. The swirling, writhing mass seemed to ride him, like a ‘monkey on his back’ would. It whispered in his ear, she could tell, because it darted every once and a while toward them, and she heard a soft caress of a voice on the wind. If she reached out, she could almost touch it. His demon.

She stood there, looking at him, not listening to a word that he was saying. “And, if they think that I’m going to be babysitting the one Scooby in the whole world that would rather kick my ass than look at me, then they are completely out of their damn mind!” He paused and tilted his head, examining her, “Slayer?”

She was waving her hand behind him, running it up and down. “Buffy?”

She looked at him then, a smile playing on her lips. “Spike.”

“Have you completely gone off your bird?”

“No, but you, I mean, you’re beautiful!” She smiled fully then, circling him. The sunglasses came off as she investigated him.

“This is completely irrational, Buffy. Don’t you think that maybe you can come with me to my crypt and we’ll talk? Or you can sleep, I can get drunk, and in the morning, your merry band of meddlers can come pick you up? Whaddya say? Hmmm?” He started turning with her, becoming a little more self conscious about being stared at by the bane of his existence.

Something snapped in her face. “Okay, let’s go to your place. I really can’t go home, not to the mom the time forgot.” She reached for his hand, which he abruptly pulled back as if he was burned.

“No touching, just walking, alright, Slayer?” He headed for his home, wrapping the duster more firmly around his body.

“No touching, Spike. Sorry.”


A bag flew out from underneath his bed, smacking him in the calf. “Ow, you bint! Why can’t you just pull the bloody thing out like normal people? I swear when this is over, you’re going to owe me big!”

Her head appeared from under the queen size bed, “Spike, I need clothes, you don’t have any. I asked you if you might have some any anywhere else and you said that I could check under the bed. Sorry if I cracked you when I threw it out, but I can’t see where you are when you’re behind me!” She stood up, automatically brushing herself off. She looked down at her clothes.

She groaned.

“Go back in the caves a bit and there’s a water pipe that you can clean yourself under. It leaks a little and I use it. Here’s some shampoo and soap.” He handed them over. “Take this shirt and shorts. I’ll be making a palette on the floor meself.” Turning away, she knew she’d been dismissed, and so she headed down the path in search of her shower.

Spike took this opportunity to survey what had happened in the last hour. In the span of a few short moments of his long life, he had gone from taunting Buffy, to taking care of her while she was delicate. Hell, the thought of her naked in the caves, water pouring down her naked nymph-like body was near torture for him. To get his mind off it, he went to the bed and pulled off the comforter, and underneath it one blanket. Grabbing one of the pillows, he went to the farthest point away from the bed without going back upstairs, and straightened it up to make it suitable for him to sleep on. He got ready to lie down, taking off his boots, socks, and shirt. His hands rested on his buttons of his pants, contemplating whether or not he was going to take off the denim, wondering how pissed the Slayer would get if she found out he slept completely starkers.

While trying to make the decision, he heard her feet padding back to the bedroom, so he shrugged and decided to leave them. Lying down, he clasped his hands behind his head, staring at the dirt ceiling above.

The smell of his shampoo wafted through the air as she walked in. Shoving her other clothes into an old plastic grocery bag, she looked around for anything resembling toothpaste, so she could brush. “Spike? Where are you?”

He put his hand in the air, waving it so she could see it. “What do you need?” He sounded tired. She looked at her watch. It was eleven thirty. Rolling her eyes, she walked over to stand above him, and stared at him, her hand once again flying to her mouth in surprise. “What now, Slayer? ‘M tired and I need some sleep.”

She crouched down near him, her hand ready to run over his smooth chest. Buffy reached out, and Spike grabbed her once again. “No touching, Slayer, remember?”

From her point of view, there shouldn’t have been any reason not to touch him. You see, on his chest, there was a near blinding white light where his heart would lie under the skin. There was no pulsing, although she was sure that if he were alive, it would be. Coming out of the light, there were words streaming across his torso in all directions. She sat then, in fascination, to read them. They seemed to fade, going nowhere, and were promptly replaced by more words in their wake.

He stared at her, suddenly skittish himself, like a pony ready to bolt.

Under her breath she whispered, “My soul is wrapped, in harsh repose…” She trailed off, inspecting further lines. Her eyes were filled with tears as she met his kind, smiling face (which in all actuality were filled with a small amount of terror). “William?”





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