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A/N: Originally posted back in August last year, this was my very first fanfic that I have decided to revise and repost under the same title. *Remember, this was written before the season 7 actually started using spoilers from various sites.*

Thanks by the way to all of you who have read and reviewed.

Disclaimer: Joss is the evil mastermind of Buffy and its characters so they don't belong to me.

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Buffy and Dawn came home the next day, both dragging their tired and weary bodies through the front door. Giles, Willow and Spike were in the dining room, books and notebooks spread out all over the table.

"Hello, honey, we're home," she droned out. Dawn giggled at her as she made her way up the stairs and into her room to drop off her school bag. She soon bounded back down with renewed energy.

"Geesh, is their some magical potion up there that I need to get a swig of? Where did all this bounciness come from? Just a minute ago you were dead on your feet."

Spike came from the other room and heard the remark. "Hey, I resemble that."

Dawn shrugged her shoulders, laughing at Spike's lame joke. "I'm home; not at school."

Buffy rolled her eyes at both of them. "Point taken. What have you people been doing today? And where is my dining room table?" She peered around the doorway to see the structured mess lying there.

"We're either trying our hand at redecorating, or we've set up the new Sunnydale library in the middle of your dining room. What do you think we've been doing all day? There's enough research material in there to fill enough libraries in the whole state." Spike chided jokingly.

"Yeah, sounds like fun was had by all."

"If you say so. I've had more fun having a root canal," he comically stated.

She laughed at him. "You've never had a root canal."

"No, but I've heard about them. Harmony was always the incessant storyteller. Everything about anything, til my ears bled or I was ready to shove a stake through my own bleeding heart. A horror story that one is. Harmony, not the root canal."

"Believe me, I remember."

Giles walked into the living room carrying a few sheets of paper.

"Hello, Buffy. Tough day?"

Spike suddenly realized how tired Buffy looked. He thought he should have noticed sooner and said something to her or offered to get her something. He mentally kicked himself. 'Keen on the observedness there, Spike, you git.' He admonished himself privately.

Buffy plopped herself down in the comfy chair and threw her head back with a sigh.

"Seems to be a lot of troubled teens at Sunnydale High these days. Just have to learn how to better prepare myself to get through it day after day without sending anyone off the deep end."

"I'm sure you're doing just fine." Giles gave her a comforting squeeze as he walked back into the dining room. "Join us when you're ready to."

Spike stood there a while watching her doze.

"Spike." He jumped a little when she spoke.

"Can I get you anything, Buffy? Something to drink, or eat."

Buffy opened her eyes and raised her head slowly, tilting it slightly to look at him. "Ok, don't start going all weird on me. But thanks anyway. I think I’ll head up and change into something a little less business like. Go on back to your ever-so-fun research and I’ll join you all soon."

He smiled slightly before turning back to the book-a-palooza in the other room.

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Later that evening, Buffy was in the kitchen preparing things for the next day after everyone else had called it an early night. Even Spike, who was actually falling asleep at the table with his head resting on the book he was looking through. The house was so peaceful and quiet as she sat at the island sipping her chamomile tea until a deathly scream pierced the silence. She bolted down the basement stairs hitting the light switch on the way down.

Buffy stood there frozen, not knowing what to do or say. What was happening to him? Spike crouched in the corner of the room, eyes wide with fear, and panting heavily. A glint caught her eye and at first she thought he still had the cross with him. As she walked closer she saw the blood on his hands and chest. Fresh cuts were visible when she got closer and she saw that he was clutching a butcher knife in his hand.

She spoke his name calmly, hoping to snap him out of this state. She didn't wan't to get too close and have him lunge at her, mistaking her for someone or something else. Buffy lowered herself to her knees to make eye contact and talked to him.

"Spike, Spike look at me. I need you to focus and look at me. That's it. Look into my eyes, just like that. Good. Remember me? Your friend, Buffy?" Recognition hit him hard. Tears poured down his face and the sobs were devastating for Buffy to hear.

Buffy moved in closer holding her hand out for the knife. She didn't even have to ask for it. He gave it to her freely and she tossed it behind her away out of his reach.

"You want to tell me something? I'm all ears."

He shamefully covered his face with his hands and his tears made the blood run down his arms in jagged streaks. Buffy grabbed a towel out of a basket nearby and closed the space in between them. She gently took one hand and started wiping it, then did the same to the other.

"Talk to me, please," she pleaded with him while cleaning him up.

He noticed what she was doing and the crying slowly stopped.

"I want it out of me."

She looked at him, puzzled. "The soul?"

He shook his head no. "It's telling me what I should be doing, vexing me, torturing me." His voice was cracking with pain.

"I've hurt too many innocents, killed for blood. Want it to stop. Too many bad dreams. I want the demon out. It tried to hurt you. Cut it out, tried to cut it out. So painful. Buffy please help me. Take it out."

He ended up in her arms, the two of them rocking back and forth. She didn't know what to say to him to comfort him. She thought maybe she should call Angel to discuss the situation. Would Spike be angry at her if she took the matter into her own hands? Buffy decided she would talk to Giles in the morning. But what was she going to do with Spike in the meantime? She couldn't just very well leave him down in this basement in his state and she wasn't really in the mood to sleep in the dank and musty place either. She grabbed the blanket and pillows off the cot and stood up pulling him with her.

"Come on." He looked at her not knowing what she was getting ready to do.

"You're sleeping in my room tonight…on the floor, mind you. First let's go clean you up in the bathroom."

He pulled back a little flustered. "No, not ready to go in there just yet. Kitchen basin will do."

She looked at him for a second then slowly shook her head up and down. She understood it was still too much for him to go into that room. It meant he would have to once again acknowledge what he, or the demon in him, tried to do so many months ago. 'Baby steps,' she thought.

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Buffy slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times to focus them. It was light in her room which meant the sun was waking up as well. Nothing had roused her out of her deep slumber. No dreams, no alarm clock, no sounds what-so-ever. She turned her head to see what time it actually was. Clock read 6:10. Another 20 minutes and it would be buzzing at her.

She sensed something very familiar, a slight tingling sensation in her lower belly. Then she heard it. A soft moan and was that breathing? Maybe it was a human habit hard to let go of. A slight smile crept across her face and she rolled to her side to stare at this creature sleeping soundly across her bedroom floor.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there and gazed at him. His curly platinum blonde hair, all messed up, the way she really liked it, seemed so much more natural even if it was bleached. The hollows under his cheeks made by the sharp angles. She couldn't help to think how angelic he looked laying there as the first of the morning light filtered through the drawn curtains. His chest was bare and she faltered, noticing the bandaged wounds from the previous night’s fit of self-mutilation. She felt a twinge of sadness for him, not pity, but a feeling that she really wanted to give him something to help with all the pain and guilt.

"Buffy, are you going to stare at me all morning, luv?" He had turned his head and looked in her direction, his eyes twinkling.

She gasped and raised her head a bit off her pillow. She reached behind her and flung a throw pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the nose.

"Bullseye," she giggled and swung her legs over to sit on the edge of her bed.

He yanked the pillow away ferociously and growled. "The nose, the bloody nose. You’re gonna wish you’d never done that."

He reached for his pillow and swiftly stood up, braced in a fighting stance, clutching a pillow in each hand. Buffy's eyes widened. 'Uh-oh', she thought as she stood, gripping her pillow over her head.

He puffed up and snarled, "I'm still the 'Big Bad', you know."

"What, the 'Big Bad' pillow fighter? Ooh, I'm shaking in my, well I'm not wearing any shoes, but if I were…"

"You asked for it, little girl."

She scoffed at him for calling her a little girl as he charged her, pillows swinging. They pelted one another with soft blows, both laughing like they never had before, until he retaliated by pulling out his bag of dirty tricks. He swung his arm low and behind her, hitting her at the back of her knees, knocking her on her back and across the bed. She scrambled around to reach for her lost weapon as he grabbed her around the waist to hold her at bay.

Flashes of his attack on her raced through his head and he released her, rolling onto his back next to her, breathing raggedly. She, on the other hand, was giggling uncontrollably by now. It took her a moment to realize he had quit playing and she pulled herself up in a sitting position, hugging her pillow to her chest, still chuckling. Spike was staring at the ceiling, running his hand over the bandages on his chest, a pained shadow on his face.

It dawned on her why he had stopped so suddenly. "You ok?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Then look at me." He turned his head and gazed at her with a deep sadness in his eyes.

"I'm great. That was fun. Come on, sit up and let me check your wounds."

He sat up and turned slightly towards her on the edge of the bed. She proceeded to take one of the bandages off, his body stiffening under her touch and he grabbed her wrist gently.

"You know, on second thought, I can check them. I'm sure you have better things to do than to play nursemaid to me. I may be a raving lunatic, but I am still physically able."

"I'm sure you are," she mumbled more to herself as she lifted herself off the bed and towards her closet. Of course he heard her and she knew that he did. She turned her head and gave him a sly smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'll see you this afternoon then." She grabbed some clothes and headed out the door. He watched her go then fell over onto the bed like a lovesick teenager. He was turning into a bloody pouf and he knew it.

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TBC





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