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A/N- April is the high priestess of grammer, I am a mere sinner.

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If she didn’t stop, she wouldn’t have to think. If she didn’t go to bed until she was too exhausted to stand, she wouldn’t have to lie awake and think. If she just kept pummelling the punching bag in the basement, she wouldn’t have to think. And if she didn’t think, then he wasn’t really gone. If she could successfully avoid thinking, she wouldn’t think of him and he wouldn’t be gone. She wouldn’t be alone.

She knew she’d been hard on the potentials that evening on patrol, she knew she’d been harsh and unfair - lashing out at them, humiliating and scaring them - but patrol had been unbearable; the weight of his absence had been suffocating, the reality of his loss too much to bear. So she had led them to a fresh grave and stood back while the newly risen vamp left bruises on their fragile bodies. She had berated them for their ineptitude and scared into them the cruel reality of what failure would mean. Then she had marched home, leaving them to trail behind her with sullen faces and murmured dissent.

They were sleeping now, most of them at least. Dawn and the core of the Scooby gang were still up trawling through their limited library for some clue as to how to fight the First. She should be with them, but research offered far too much time to think. She didn’t want to think.

……………..

It seemed odd that the slayer’s house looked the same. He felt as if he had been gone so long, travelled so far, that the house should be different, its appearance altered in testament to his own changes. He took a deep breath; time to give the slayer her present.

He propped the bike up on its stand and strode confidently towards the house. There was no way for them to know; he could play the part, mimic William and stay close to the slayer, stay in her fight. Anyanka was human again. There was no one left who could see his soul, or lack thereof, in his eyes.

He entered the house quietly: souled Spike was considerate, wouldn’t want to wake the girls. Quiet murmurs led him to the dining room, where the scoobies sat around studying ancient manuscripts and dusty tomes.

“Evenin.’” He couldn’t resist a smirk at their shocked expressions, but it wouldn’t give him away. Souled Spike smirked from time to time.

“Spike!” It was Dawn who greeted him, her loud exclamation sure to rouse the sleeping potentials. He smiled at her, soft and regretful. No need for acting, not when it came to Dawn; his regret was all too real.

She was on him in an instant, long slender arms wrapped fiercely around his neck as she clung to him. “Spike,” she whispered against his neck, where her hot tears were burning his skin. She pulled back, still holding him tightly. “We thought you were dead.”

“No deader than usual,” he told her, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

She smiled a soft watery smile and leaned into him again, burying her face in his neck.

……………………..

It wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. It was just a hallucination brought on by tiredness and wishful thinking. She had heard Dawn’s shout and bounded up the stairs with supernatural speed, only to stop dead in her tracks at the scene in the dining room: her sister wrapped around a very corporeal Spike.

She let out a strangled gasp and his eyes found hers over her sister’s head. Ice blue and glinting with amusement at her caught fish expression, as she opened her mouth to speak, only to find she had no words.

He tucked Dawn under his arm and raised a bright axe with a wooden stake forming its handle. “Got you a present,” he told her with a small smile. A flick of his wrist and the axe was spinning towards her at a leisurely pace; an easy catch and she was holding it, feeling its undeniable power, its siren call to the slayer within her. It felt powerful and mystical, and it felt like it was hers.

She looked up at him again, well aware of the wonder in her eyes but unable to suppress it. “The Scythe,” she whispered reverently.

“The one and only.” He grinned at her, obviously pleased with her reaction, before planting a kiss on Dawn’s head where the younger girl snuggled against his side with an awed “wow.”

Buffy frowned. She hadn’t seen Spike so boldly affectionate with her sister since...well, since ever. She handed the Scythe to her watcher, who studied it curiously, and looked back at the vampire. “Thanks,” she whispered sincerely, her voice soft with emotion, God it was good to have him back. She wished in that moment that she were Dawn. That she could throw herself into his embrace so unreservedly and feel him real and solid in her arms. Wished that she could show him exactly how good it was to have him back.

“Pleasure,” he told her with a diffident smile - William’s smile - unsure and awkward. “What do you think, Rupert?” He turned his attention to the watcher. “Will it help?”

“Well, it’s real shiny,” Buffy joked. “Some girls get diamonds, I get shiny weapons.”

“Slayer bling,” Xander told her with a serious nod of his head. “You’ll be the talk of the cemetery.”

Buffy snorted and looked at her watcher, who was studying the Scythe fastidiously. “Extraordinary,” he mumbled. “Willow,” he said, passing it across the table to the witch, “do you feel anything?”

“Oh boy,” Willow gasped as her hands made contact with the smooth handle. “It’s just… I mean, it’s so powerful and so old. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Me neither,” Buffy nodded. “As soon as I touched it, I felt—I don’t know. Power, but more than that. It felt like… like it was mine.”

“’It is for her to wield.’” Spike quoted the guardian’s words his admiring gaze resting on Buffy.

Buffy nodded, looking over at Spike. His eyes slid away from hers as they so often had since his return from Africa. “It belongs to the slayer,” she agreed, trying again to catch his elusive gaze.

He shuffled his feet and turned his attention again to the watcher. “They were expecting a slayer. The guardian was pretty surprised when yours truly turned up.”

“We know,” Buffy sighed, and perched herself on the table. “We found out the whole scoop yesterday, but by then you’d already gone charging off half cocked. Which reminds me, I am so mad at you for that.”

He angled his head and smirked at her, his eyes finally holding hers, his tongue tracing a seductive path behind his teeth. “Aww, Slayer, come on. You know I’m never half cocked.” She couldn’t help but return his smirk as she basked in his presence, a quip already forming on her lips. She hadn’t felt this good in weeks, months even; he was here and he was alive and his eyes were sparkling with life and amusement, pale and glinting like shards of ice in the low light of the dining room.

“Dawn, get over here.” She stood up abruptly, her voice urgent with sudden realisation, fear and pain flaring up in her chest, making her breath catch and her heart pound in her chest.

“Eh?” Dawn gave her a sceptical look: that special look that only Dawn could pull off, the one that made it clear she considered her sister a complete moron.

“Now, Dawn!” she commanded harshly, fear making her temper snap.

“Best do as big sis says, pet.” Spike spoke casually, gently untangling himself from her clinging arms and giving her a little push towards the stone-faced slayer, who positioned herself between him and the gang. A steadfast protector.

“So soon, pet?” he drawled, his voice deep and provocative as he slid from his imitation of William like a snake sliding from its skin. She felt at that moment like she was watching his soul leave his body, as William’s awkward demeanour slipped away and nervous tension ignited palpably in his body. She watched his gentle, soulful eyes grow flinty-hard, glinting with passion and intensity. She felt his demon rise with challenge and with it rose her own dark side: self-loathing, hatred, betrayal, and, yes - despite herself - lust. Her own demon. Because hadn’t she been told just a few endless days ago that her power was, at its core, demonic?

“Outside,” she commanded, the steadiness of her own voice catching her by surprise. She angled her head towards the yard. She had to get him away from the others, then she could deal with him - no hesitation, no second thoughts. She’d learned this lesson the hard way.

………………

“What was that about?” Xander stared at the kitchen door, wondering what had suddenly turned Buffy’s unusually good mood on its head.

“Who knows,” Dawn said sullenly, hiding her disappointment at Spike’s departure behind a veil of adolescent bitterness. “Buffy’s such a freak.”

“Dawn,” Giles chided, feeling compelled to defend his admittedly inconstant slayer.

“Well, she is,” the teenager insisted petulantly. “I mean, Spike gets the Scythe for her - which was totally her job - and she just wails on him. She’s such a bitch.” With that she was gone, stomping up the stairs noisily, unconcerned with the sleeping potentials.

……………….

They stood facing each other in the back yard, her golden hair shining in the pool of light cast through the kitchen window. God, she was beautiful. He’d spent so long trying not to look at her, desperately suppressing his desire for her, that he’d almost forgotten how God damn beautiful she was. Especially when she was pissed off, and boy was she pissed off now.

“Buffy,” he began. Maybe he could make her listen, make her see he was still on her side.

Oops! No. Wrong thing to say. The sound of her name on his lips seemed to fuel her anger. She launched herself towards him, eyes flashing with rage, teeth bared in a fair imitation of his own kind.

He rolled with the assault, using her uncontrolled momentum to fling her across the yard, wincing slightly when her body crashed into the porch steps. She was up almost as quickly as he was and on the attack again. Her face was set like granite, but her eyes - her eyes were burning with anger and betrayal, and...was that pain?

He didn’t want to fight her, but she left him little choice. Block, duck, kick or punch her away, but she’d be at him again just as quickly, anger making her style ragged, just enough for him to defend himself. She hadn’t got a really good hit in yet.

Ouch! Ah, there it was. He felt his head snap back, the bone and cartilage in his nose shattered beneath her fist. He went down, dazed by the force of the blow. Anger had made her sloppy, but it had also given her the vicious strength of a wounded lioness.

“You bastard,” he heard her hiss as she followed him down, fists pounding his face in a vicious rhythm. It hurt - fuck yes it hurt - almost as much as watching her smiling eyes turn hard and hate-filled with the knowledge that his soul was gone.

Through the pain, his anger surfaced. He’d done all this for her, everything. Risked everything to bring her the Scythe, refused his soul to be the fighter she needed him to be. “Bitch!” he spat through the blood that filled his mouth as he jerked his hips and launched her over his head to land on her back with a loud huff of expelled air.

He was up in an instant, facing her as she climbed to her feet. “You never bloody change do you?” he accused, “You wanted me dangerous? Fine, you got it!” He attacked with a feral growl, sending them both tumbling through the gap in the fence and out into the night.

…………………….

It was nearly dawn and Buffy and Spike hadn’t come back to the house. Willow rolled over, awkwardly freeing herself from Kennedy’s embrace and slipping out of the bed. Donning her fuzzy dressing gown, she made her way silently to the kitchen, wondering if she should wake Giles.

“Willow.” His hushed whisper made her jump violently, turning to face him with one hand over her racing heart.

“Don’t do that, Giles,” she whispered, breathless from the adrenaline surging through her body. “God, I nearly died.”

“I’m sorry, Willow,” he apologised distractedly, moving closer to the witch so they could converse in hushed whispers so as not to disturb the sleeping household. “I’m afraid Buffy and Spike have yet to return.”

Willow nodded, remembering the reason she had lain awake all night listening for the tell tale sounds of her friend’s return. “I know,” she told him, her quite voice filed with worry. “I can’t think what’s keeping them. Unless they patrolled and met up with some big bad. Oh God, maybe another uber-vamp.”

The watcher placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice calm and reassuring. “We don’t know anything, Willow. Please don’t distress yourself. Buffy and Spike are quite capable of dealing with anything patrol may throw at them.”

She opened her mouth to protest when the phone rang, loud and shrill in the silent house. “Hello.” Giles answered it on the second ring.

“Yes, she’s here.” He handed the phone to Willow, shaking his head at her questioning expression.

“Er… Hello?” she said nervously. “Fred. Yes, I remember. Angel mentioned…”

Giles watched her friendly expression turn troubled. “Oh.” Another long pause. “Of course, I’ll be there right away. Just try and keep him contained.”

She hung up the phone and looked at the watcher with worried eyes. “I have to go to LA.”

…………………


Chymera - Thanks for the review, concise and encouraging

Oh Cali I think I kinda love you. I've bee trying to keep Buffy in her season 7 I have no emotions mould (For now), Giles was also a bit of a bad egg in season 7, I'm not sure how he'll pan out in this story yet.
I can't believe it but Dawn, who in the show annoys the crap outta me, is coming off well in another of my stories. I guess it's just cos she loves Spike, so she and I have something in common

Thanks for reviwing guys





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