Spike thought he was dreaming, or that it was some trick of his mind, when he sensed the familiar presence in the air. Buffy’s presence. He thought it was wishful thinking - the same as it had been for the last two days since she walked out of the mansion. But then he heard her voice

“Spike?”

He bolted upright in his bed. The bed that had been Buffy’s. He had been spending a lot of time in it since her departure, wanting to feel close to her.

Spike was still trying to figure out if what he heard was really Buffy or just his imagination when her voice called again.

“Spike? Are you here?”

Hoping for the best Spike jumped out of bed and ran toward her voice.

And there she was, standing in the foyer. Buffy looked as though she was glowing under the light that filtered in through the cracks in the curtains. She looked so beautiful, and Spike was so overcome with joy to see her, that he thought he might cry. Spike wanted to run to her, to take her in his arms, and beg her to never leave him again. But he couldn’t do that. It would just end up causing pain, and not just because she was standing so close to the sun.

Spike tried to shake himself as best he could. “You came back,” he remarked.

“Of course I came back,” Buffy replied with a small smile. “I said I’d be back in couple days to make sure you were okay, remember?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I just thought maybe you would want to pal around with your mates a bit, catch up and that.”

“Well, yeah I do” said Buffy. “And I am doing that. But right now they’re in school, which kind of puts a crimp in the bonding time. I’m going to go visit them at lunch, though. I’m packing a picnic.”

“Why aren’t you?” Spike wondered. “In school, that is?”

“Well, remember how I told you how I got kicked out of both school and my house,” Spike nodded,“well Snyder isn’t being quite as welcoming as Mom was.”

“Little troll,” Spike muttered.

“Oh, so you’re acquainted,” Buffy quipped.

Spike cracked a grin. “I remember him from the parents’ night me and mine crashed last year.”

“Yep,” Buffy remarked, “I remember.”

“Right, well, he seemed like a right weasel from what little I could tell.”

“Very honed powers of observation you got there, you hit the weasel right on the head.”

Spike chuckled and Buffy smiled. It had only been two days, but they had both greatly missed each other’s company. Buffy wasn’t exactly fitting back into her old routine as seamlessly as she hoped she would and she wasn’t feeling quite as comfortable with her friends as she did with Spike.

They shared a look and a weighted silence descended, giving them both the time to tell the other how they felt. Instead, the unsaid words filled the air until it became uncomfortably crowded. They both lost the staring contest, looking away at the same time.

“So, um, the reason I came here...” Buffy ventured.

“Oh, right.” Spike said, reminding himself this wasn’t a social call. She was only here to make sure he wasn’t starving.”Well, I still got a good amount of blood stocked up, pet,” Spike informed her casually.

“Oh, that’s good. But that’s not what I was talking about,” Buffy paused, looking antsy.

Spike regarded her curiously, head tilted to the side, left eyebrow hitched.

“Actually, um, I came here because,” she licked her lips and took a breath, “well, you see the thing is, uh, there’s this thing.”

The corner of Spike’s lip quirked up. He’d never seen the Slayer so nervous before, not even during the times when he was trying to kill her. He knew it had to be something important for it to have flustered her so.

“Slayer,” Spike prodded. Buffy took her eyes away from her wringing hands and looked up at him.“Whatever it is, pet, you can tell me. Just say it.”

You don’t have to worry about the curse anymore, your soul is secure.

That’s what she had come here intending to say. But when she looked into his eyes, those damn beautiful eyes of his that always provoked the oddest sensation inside of her, her voice caught in her throat. Those eyes would be her downfall. Spike’s soul might be safe. But was she? Everything Buffy had said to Willow last night was true; it was too soon for either of them to get involved with anyone. But, looking into his eyes, she didn’t care.

Buffy wasn’t sure if sheer will alone would be enough to stop her from giving in to what she wanted. But she did know that, as long as Spike thought there was any danger of losing his new soul, he wouldn’t let anything happen. Buffy felt sick with herself. She knew it was wrong to keep the truth from Spike, yet that was what she was going to do.

Just for a while, she told herself. I’ll tell him everything soon. I just need more time to get my feelings in order.

“Buffy?” Spike’s voice wrenched her from her devious musings. He was looking at her expectantly, still waiting for what she had to say. She had to tell him something, something that she had specifically intended to keep to herself. “Um, it’s my mom,” she blurted. “She wants me to invite you to dinner on Friday.”

“Oh,” Spike remarked, taken aback. He was surprised at the invitation, but more surprised that that was all Buffy had to say. From the way she was acting, he had thought it would have been something a lot more explosive than that. “Uh, well...”

“You can totally say no if you want,” Buffy hastened. “If it’s too much for you, just now.”

“No,” Spike said.

Buffy looked relieved. “Okay, I’ll just tell my mom you’re not up to it. She’ll understand.”

“No,” he repeated, shaking his head, “I meant no, it’s not too much. I’d love to come to dinner.”

“You would?” Buffy asked, dumbfounded.

“Sure, unless you don’t want me to.”

“No! I mean, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“Okay,” Spike said. “Good then.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed, “great.” Her smile belied her favourable words.

 ~*~*~*~

Buffy glanced over to the vampire walking by her side, looking for any signs of anxiety. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" she asked Spike. "If you're not, we can turn around and go back to the mansion, no big deal."

Spike smirked; he knew Buffy was more agitated about where they were headed than the fact that this was his first time venturing passed Crawford Street. "I'm doin' all right Slayer," he assured, "appreciate the concern though."

"Are you really sure? I would understand if this was too much for you to handle right now."

"Like I said, I'm all right."

Buffy forced a smile. "All right then, that's good," she said.

This is gonna be bad, she thought, as they turned the corner onto Revello Drive.

"Well, here we are," she announced as they mounted the steps to her house. "There's still time for us to go back if you want." There was a note of pleading in her voice.

"Buffy," Spike ventured slowly, "just open the door."

Buffy sighed. "Oh, all right," she grumbled, before taking a deep breath and doing as she was instructed.

"Mom!" she called, once through the door. "We're here!"

~*~*~*~

"This is delicious Joyce," Spike complemented when the three of them had sat at the dining room table for dinner.

Joyce smiled at him. "Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you like it. I got the recipe from my friend Pat – she takes a Spanish cooking class – but I'm afraid I improvised a bit by adding more red pepper than was called for. I hope it's not too spicy."

"Oh, not for me, I love a bit of heat," Spike assured. "Too spicy is better than too bland."

"I feel the same way," Joyce remarked. "Though I should probably avoid spice more than I do; indigestion."

"Ah well, that's one of the virtues of being technically dead; if your heart's not beatin', you can't get heartburn."

Buffy stiffened, not sure how her mother would react to Spike’s sense of humor; she was, after all, still getting used to the whole vampires being real thing. But Buffy was able to relax a bit when her mom chuckled. Okay, so far not so bad. Maybe this isn't going to end up being the disaster I thought it was going to be.

She was starting to feel like she could finally let out the breath she had been holding since she and Spike had walked through the door.

"So, Spike," Joyce ventured, "that's a very unusual name. How did you come about it?"

Buffy's eyes widened. Oh crap!

"Mom," she hissed. Joyce looked at her questioningly and Buffy jerked her head pointedly back and forth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Joyce said, putting her fingertips to her lips, "that must be one of the sore subjects I'm not supposed to bring up." She looked to Buffy. "Though, I didn't remember it from your list, dear."

"Guess I wasn't as thorough as I thought," Buffy grumbled.

"I'm sorry Spike," Joyce told him.

Spike waved off the apology. "Don't worry about it. 's no big deal, really. I got the name doing one of the many horrible things I regret doing is all."

Joyce's brow knitted, her interest piqued. "Well, if the name harbors such bad memories for you, then why don't you go back to...what was your name before?"

"Uh, William," Spike answered, a bit sheepishly.

"William," Joyce repeated with a smile. "That's a lovely name. Why not use it?"

Spike cleared his throat. "Well, I would, but that name doesn't exactly denote bright and happy feelings either." He remembered the tittering of his peers as they referred to him as "William the bloody" because of his bloody awful poetry. Spike had killed most of those people after he was turned but even after over a century of time passing, those words still smarted. He, however, didn't relate any of this to the Summers ladies.

"I've been Spike for a long time," he did say. "It's just a name, but it's mine, good or bad."

Joyce gave him a motherly smile and he felt a pang for his own long since dead mother. Joyce reminded him a bit of his own mum; they had a same sort of quality about them. The thought made him feel an emotion so intense that it caused heat to build behind his eyes.

He blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears. Ah hell, he thought. Start blubbering at the dinner table, that outta leave a good impression.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Huh, saved by the bell, Spike thought sardonically as the sound pulled the others’ attention from him long enough so that he could discreetly sniff back his tears.

Buffy's brow scrunched and she looked to her mom, "Are you expecting someone?"

"Well," Joyce ventured with a hint of trepidation, "I sort of invited over your friends for a little welcome back get together."

"Mom!" Buffy cried. "How could you do that without telling me? And on the night Spike's over! I told you he wasn't comfortable being around many people yet!"

"It's fine, Buffy," Spike assured, but the girl didn't seem to hear him.

"Why would you think it's a good idea to just spring this on me without warning?"

"I'm sorry," her mother said a bit huffily. "I just thought it would be a nice surprise." She turned to Spike her voice softening. "I'm sorry Spike if it's going to make you uncomfortable..."

"It's fine really," he said again, "no problem."

"See?" Joyce said turning a raised eyebrow to Buffy. "He says it's fine."

"Of course, he's going to say it's fine to your face, he's being polite!"

The doorbell chimed again. Neither of the house’s residents made a move, still glaring icily each other.

"Would you ladies like me to get that?" Spike offered.

"No," said Buffy, throwing down her napkin, "I'll get it." She made a display of pushing her chair back, scraping it loudly against the floor, and then kicking it back under the table, before stomping off to the door.

Joyce sighed. "I really didn't think this would be such a big deal," she said to Spike.

Spike gave her a compassionate look. "She didn't mean it like that," he appeased. "She's just been under a lot of stress. I haven't been as stable as you’ve see me here tonight, she's probably just worried that too much at once will send me over the deep end again. I doubt she wants the hassle of havin' to wrangle me out of it a second time; the first time was tough enough."

Joyce smiled softly at him; she reached over and patted his hand. "I don't think she minded it one bit."

Spike again felt the prickling heat behind his eyes, Damn it all to hell! This bloody soul 's turnin' me into a weepin' idiot. Spike had never been a stranger to tears – nor was he ashamed to show emotion– but the rivers that had been flowing from his eyes since he was cursed was just ridiculous.

"Oh, dear," Joyce remarked, noticing the watering in his eyes. "I knew I used too much red pepper." She reached for Spike's glass and filled it with more wine. "Here, this'll help."

Spike smiled and gulped down the wine. He was grateful to Joyce, not just for the drink, but for her discretion. He suspected she knew that it wasn't the spices that were making him tear up. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

She gave him that maternal look again. "Not at all."

"Uh, Mom!" Buffy cried from the foyer.

Joyce's brow knitted in concern at her daughter’s distressed tone as she got up from her seat and went to the door. Spike followed. When they got there, they saw Buffy standing against the wall a helpless look on her face as a deluge of people streamed through the door.

"Is this what you meant by little get together?"

~*~*~*~

"You're kind of takin' that whole 'it's my party and I'll cry if I want to' thing a bit too seriously there, eh pet?" Spike remarked after finding Buffy out on the back porch, her head in her hands.

Buffy lifted her head and gave Spike a wry look, "That is so not my party. I don't even know most of those people, hell most of them don't know who I am!" She let out frustrated sigh, shaking her head. "I can't believe my mom did this."

"Well, pet, in all fairness to your mum, I don't think this is exactly what she planned. I suspect your mates had some hand in spreadin' the word."

"That doesn't really make it any better. It just proves that they don't get it either. I don't think I can do this," she said, eyes starting to water, "it's too much I can't handle it."

"Hey," Spike tried to soothe, "if it's really that bad for you, I can go in there and tell 'em to piss off. I can go all vamp face, that'll get 'em scurryin'," he kidded.

"I'm not talking about the party, Spike," Buffy explained miserably. "I meant all of it: me coming home, trying to just slip back into my old life like nothing ever happened. I'm just not ready. I don't know if I ever will be."

Spike would have love nothing more than for Buffy to come back to the mansion with him, so that things could go back to being just the two of them. But he knew that the best thing for Buffy was to put back the pieces of her life that had shattered the moment she plunged that sword into his grandsire's gut.

"Listen, love," Spike reached up to put a hand on Buffy's shoulder, but let it hover their timorously for a moment– he wasn't sure if it was smart to touch her– finally, though, he decided to lay it down. Spike could feel the heat of her skin through her dress, it seeped into him, filled him up, and he almost got lost in the sensation. He shook himself swiftly, remembering that he was supposed to be comforting her.

"It's gonna take time," he soothed "Your mum, your friends, they all mean well, but they can't possibly understand what it is that you went through, what you lost."

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "But you can. You lost Drusilla."

At the mention of his former love, Spike's hand recoiled from Buffy's back. She instantly regretted bringing up the vampire; she hated losing his touch.

Spike cleared his throat, shifting his body to face forward. "Yeah, I did lose Dru," he acknowledged, "but dying was her choice, there was nothing I could've done to stop her, even if I hadn't been chained up. I likely would have just stood and held her hand, went with her."

Buffy's eyes snapped to him, filled with panic.

"No need to worry, love," he assured. "I'm over that bit now." Spike could see the tension visibly drain from the Slayer's shoulders. "But, has hard as it was for me to sit back and watch as Dru–" his voice hitched, he shook his head and tried again. "As hard as it was for me to sit by and watch...I could never imagine what it must be like to do what you had to do. You had to take the life of the person you loved."

"The man I killed was not the one I loved," Buffy corrected, her voice low and fierce.

"No matter what Angel turned into, you were still in love with him when you put that sword in 'im. I could see that clear as day on your face afterward."

Buffy didn't say anything, she just kept looking forward, her mouth set in a firm line.

"You loved him and you killed him," Spike went on. "To protect the lives of a billion people you don't even know. That kind of sacrifice," he shook his head, "I could never be strong enough to make that kind of sacrifice. I would've said to hell with the world, never would've given up what I loved."

"Well then," Buffy huffed, "maybe I just didn't love Angel as much as you loved Dru."

Spike sighed. Damn it, she thinks I'm insultin' her.

"That's not what I meant," he backpedaled. "What I was sayin' was that it takes a truly extraordinary being to be that selfless and that's what you are Slayer. Extraordinary. You're the most bloody amazin' person I've ever met. And that's sayin' somethin' 'cause I've been around awhile."

Buffy's throat was tight with tears again, but they were no longer ones of sadness or frustration. Buffy didn't see herself as very amazing – and if anybody else would have said those things to her, she might of just brushed them off – but Spike, the utter sincerity in his voice, she almost did feel pretty damn extraordinary.

Buffy swallowed down the lump in her throat so she could speak. "Thank you."

Spike smiled at her, putting his hand on her cheek and brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "No need to thank me. I'm just speakin' the truth is all."

Buffy put her hand over the one that was caressing her face, she leaned into it, amazed by how smooth his palm was – she would have expected that over a century of fighting would have left it rough and callused. Must have something to do with the vamp healing.

Spike licked his lips against a suddenly dry mouth. He couldn't believe that he was touching Buffy in such an intimate way and, more shocking, that she was welcoming it. He brushed his thumb along her cheek; her skin was so soft. He wanted to touch every inch of it. Spike slid his thumb down and traced the outline of her lips and they parted slightly. He could feel the heat of her breath and it surged straight down to his core.

Buffy closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her, as Spike's fingertips brushed along her jaw line. She tilted her head back as they slipped down the slope of her neck. Spike's eyes were transfixed on her chest as it heaved up and down in a rapid rhythm. He trailed his fingers along her collarbone, unconsciously sliding his body closer to hers. His fingers were just inches from the delicate swell of her cleavage that was peeking out enticingly of the top of her dress. Spike slowly let his hand fall lower; he could feel the steady, quick beat of Buffy's heart beneath his touch. The heel of his palm brushed the top of her breast. Buffy opened her eyes and looked into Spike's sterling blue orbs. He leaned toward her, she tipped her head forward, and then... a supposedly dead cat jumped in between them.

And all hell broke loose.