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A/N This story's been nominated at Love's Last Glimpse and the Spuffy Awards. Thanks to whomever nominated me.

Chapter 24

"Buffy, pet, wake up."

Buffy felt a hand shake her gently.

"Hmm? What?" she asked.

It took her a moment to remember where she was and why. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but all she wanted to do was turn back over and get more sleep. The couple hour nap hadn't done her much good.

"There's a bit of a problem, luv. Have a look outside," Spike told her.

She started to reach for the handle of the door, but Spike stopped her. "Other side. Sun's up, not really looking for a tan."

She nodded groggily and turned around in the back seat, to exit on the other side of the car. She tried to be careful and not let any of the dawn light in. As she stumbled out of the car, she wondered why Spike had stopped where he had.

She was looking at a typical city block, in what she guessed was L.A. However, there was a construction site in front of them where a building was being torn down. It took her a moment to get her bearings - especially considering the building was mostly missing - but then she realized that Spike had taken her to Angel's office. Or rather Angel's old office which had been blown up.

She carefully opened the front door of the car and got in the passenger seat.

"Guess Angel didn't send you a forwarding address, huh?" Buffy asked Spike. "Someone blew up his old place. He's at a hotel now."

"You have the address?"

"Yeah. But. . . Speaking of hotels, do you think that we could maybe not go see Angel right away? I'm still really tired. I think that nap only made me sleepier. Plus I could really use a shower and stuff."

"No problem, luv," was all he said but Buffy was half-sure he was smiling.

It didn't take long for Spike to find a hotel with an underground garage. Buffy noticed that the hotel shared the garage with a shopping mall, but she didn't have any money to do any shopping, so it didn't really matter.

"Crap," she said when they got to the room.

"Something wrong, pet?"

"You know, we really should have stopped by your place to get stuff. I mean how many minions could Lou have had waiting there? There's almost no point in taking a shower, considering I'll just have to put these clothes back on," Buffy whined.

Spike reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bunch of cash. "Here." He handed her the money. "Looked like there were some stores nearby. Get some sleep and then go get yourself some clothes to wear."

"I can't. . ."

"If it bothers you, pet, pay me back. But you don't have to."

The lure of L.A. shopping was too much for Buffy. Trying not to look greedy, she took the money from Spike and put it on the table by the bed.

"Thanks," she said, then she headed into the bathroom to take her shower.

Showers always made her feel better. She used the hotel soap to scrub her skin, hoping to get rid of any trace of the demon strip joint she might carry with her. She was wary of the shampoo though and decided that she would just rinse her hair for now. When she went shopping for clothes she would get herself some shampoo and conditioner.

The hotel provided a blow dryer, which was permanently plugged into the wall, so she could dry her hair. Unfortunately, she didn't have a brush, so she had to use a comb. She added brushes, both hair and tooth, to her mental list of necessary things she needed.

When she was done fighting with her hair, she realized she had yet another lack-of-packing related problem. Nothing to sleep in. With a towel wrapped tightly around her, she peered into the main room. Spike was asleep on one of the two beds. As she had hoped, his clothes were piled on the floor by his bed.

She scurried into the room - towel clutched tight - and stole Spike's t-shirt. She slipped it on, slipped the towel off, sat on the edge of the vacant bed and looked at Spike.

While she had been showering and drying her hair, she'd had things to occupy herself with. Little things, yeah, but by concentrating on them, she'd been able to not think about some stuff. About scary stuff like the events of the evening.

After several minutes of watching Spike's still form, she called to him softly, "Spike?"

His eyes opened. He hadn't been sleeping. As he looked at her, his eyes settled for a moment on his shirt, and he smiled.

"Something I can do for you?" he asked.

'Yes, hold me. Keep me safe,' she wanted to say. But she was too scared he would laugh at her, or be mad.

Instead she asked him, "Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" He propped his head up on one arm.

"Being alive? Being human?"

He laughed, "You really have to ask?" He cocked one eyebrow at her.

"I just thought. . . Never mind. You're right. It's stupid."

He looked at her puzzled. Studied her. She thought maybe he knew that wasn't her real question. Wasn't what she really wanted to know. Or maybe he knew she was just trying to find something to talk about so that she wouldn't have to think.

"Oranges," he said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You asked me if I missed anything. I miss oranges."

"Spike, they still have oranges. Or at least if they are going extinct, Florida's doing a real good job of covering it up."

"I know they still have oranges. They just don't taste the same. All your senses change when you become a vampire. I remember what oranges tasted like, they just don't taste that way anymore. Blood kind of does. Sweet and a little sour all at once." He drifted off a little caught in some memory. "I still get some every now and then. They smell like I remember. I peal them, and it's like I'm a little kid again on Christmas morning, an-" He stopped suddenly, embarrassed by what he'd said. "You ever tell any one I said that. . . "

"Not a living soul. Not even a dead one," Buffy promised with false solemnity. "Wouldn't want anyone to know that your mom was one of those health freaks that gave fruit instead of candy."

He looked at her like she was clueless. "It wasn't like that. Oranges were a real treat back then. Expensive. Didn't have refrigeration and airplanes and such to ship stuff all over the world. Didn't have all the confectionaries you lot have nowadays either."

"Did you just say confectionaries? Isn't that a lot of syllables for you?" Buffy teased.

Spike evidently wasn't in the mood.

"Go to sleep," he said. And turned over so he wasn't facing her.

Inwardly Buffy cursed as she got under the covers. For once she didn't want Spike to shut up. She was stuck alone with her thoughts again. With her fears. The more she thought about the part of the night she couldn't remember, the more frightened she became.

Buffy should have been used to fear. She lived with it all the time. Fear that she wouldn't get somewhere in time and that another person would die. Fear that her friends would be hurt because of her. Fear that the demon she was fighting would be the one who killed her.

But she could deal with those fears. She could confront those fears with her fists and her feet. Even magic could be fought. But how could you fight when you didn't have any will? When you had no control over what you were doing?

She hadn't been this scared since her eighteenth birthday when Giles and the council had drugged her and taken away her powers. Her fears turned over and over in her mind, refusing to let her sleep, blocking everything else out. She was working herself up into a panic, but she couldn't stop.

"Aaah!" she screamed when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She spun around to find Spike crouching by her bed. Her heart was beating a mile a minute.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He looked at her with eyes full of worry. "You all right, luv?" His voice was full of concern.

As her breathing came back under control she noticed that he had bothered to put his jeans back on. Spike wasn't known for his modesty or politeness, and she wondered what might have prompted this courtesy.

"I thought you were sleeping?" she asked weakly.

"Hard to sleep with your heart going like a snare drum."

"Sorry."

He looked at her exasperated. "It's not a problem. I just. . . What's wrong?"

She wanted to tell him, but she couldn't seem to find the words. She was terribly hungry for his comfort but the thought he might withhold it from her was too much to bear.

"Thought we were going to tell each other things, pet?" The concern in his voice was now tinted with hurt. "You know, 'Did you have that dream again?' and all that."

When she still didn't speak, he sighed, pulled the covers away from her, and crawled into bed next to her, pulling her into his arms.

She buried her face in his chest and began to sob. Once she started, she couldn't stop, and she cried until there was nothing left and she fell asleep.





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