DISCLAIMER: No copyright laws were meant to be hurt or infringed by this fiction. All characters not mine belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, or other corporate entities that don’t include me.

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Chapter 1

It started simply as a means of escape, a way to release tension, something relaxing to do. He had begun coming up to the mansion on Crawford Street months ago, while he had been staying in Xander’s closet. There hadn’t been much else to do; no one seemed to want his company at the time. Bitterly, he wondered if anything had really changed or if Buffy just needed him more now that the battle with The First was imminent.

He had found the repetitive physical motion helped to relax his mind, while at the same time providing a much-needed outlet for his boundless energy. He estimated that he had cut and split enough firewood to heat the mansion for a month by the time he finally ran out of deadwood close to hand. If anyone had noticed that the parks, woods and cemeteries around Sunnydale were looking better than usual, they hadn’t mentioned it. He didn’t want to start chopping down living trees – it wasn’t like he actually needed the firewood for anything, and he knew from past experience that drawing attention to himself was never a good thing.

Instead, Spike had turned his restless energy to the inside of the building. He was afraid at first that spending so much time at the old place might bring back memories of things that he was trying to forget: both of Angelus and Angel. The impotent feeling of being confined to a wheelchair, Angelus and Drusilla screaming out their passion in the next room. Later, the fact that Angel had lived here, and awful realization that Buffy had loved Angel in a way that she had never been able to love him. Instead, all he heard was silence. So, he dusted and swept the disused rooms, and aired out the linens, and scrubbed the floors and walls until the old house shone.

With the advent of the Potentials, the house on Revello was always full of people now. There was no quiet or privacy to be found anywhere; often not even in his basement which doubled as both laundry and storage room. It had occurred to him that they’d all fit much better in the old mansion, except for the lack of central heating, electricity and hot water, which the humans generally objected to.

He couldn’t remember when the idea had first come to him – after that disastrous evening with Faith at the Bronze? He wasn’t the only one on the edge. They all needed a break. Living in such close quarters was difficult on everyone. And the anticipation of the impending apocalypse was almost as bad as the apocalypse itself - except that Spike knew better. He knew that they wouldn’t all walk away from this one unharmed.

She was here. Spike could sense Buffy as she hesitantly opened the front door and entered. Unlike the rest of the gang, he hadn’t told Buffy what to expect, what he was planning. It was a measure of her faith in him that she didn’t question it, merely did as he asked. He was inordinately proud of that. Even if she didn’t love him – at least she trusted him.

It was only around four in the afternoon, and already it was growing dark outside. The fire in the main hall had been raging for hours and the room was warm and welcoming – as it hadn’t been since before the vampires had made it their own.

She saw him halfway down the stairs. He had given up wearing his signature black outfit, and Buffy thought that in the uncertain light he looked more human than she could ever remember. “Spike,” she began, “What…?”

Almost, he could think it was years ago – before their disastrous love affair, before her death and resurrection. His eyes twinkled, “Do you trust me?”

Such a simple question, but with so much behind it. He held out his hand for her to precede him back up the stairs, as he waited for her answer. She didn’t respond, but merely moved in the direction indicated. She didn’t know what he was up to, but he was right, she did trust this quieter, softer Spike. She kept expecting him to act the same, as he would have before he had come back with his soul, but he didn’t. Sometimes it crossed her mind that she really didn’t know him very well anymore.

She almost balked when she realized that he was taking her into a bathroom. They had bad memories of bathrooms; both of them. Perhaps he understood that, as he merely held the door open for her to enter, while he stayed in the hall. She could smell the bath before she rounded the corner and saw it – filled with bubbles and an array of her favorite beauty products on the shelf nearby. It had been ages since she’d had the time or privacy to actually relax in a tub. With some many girls in the house now, it was all they could do to squeeze in shower time for each of them every other day. Buffy refused to allow herself extra privileges just because she was the Slayer. Right now the idea of a long soak in a tub rivaled her memories of Heaven.

“Take as long as you like. Although I’m afraid that there is no hot water on the tap. The power is off, which includes the hot water heater. If you like, when the tub gets cold, there’s a few extra buckets of hot waiting in the corner.” He ran his hand through his hair; a new habit of his. Buffy wasn’t sure what it meant, but if she’d been forced to put an emotion to the gesture, she’d have said he was shy or nervous. Emotions which did not fit her idea of Spike at all. “I’d refill it for you, but I’ve got other things to do and might not be around if you call. Besides, the whole point was to give you some time to yourself.”

“Thank you, Spike.” As she said them she realized with wry humor that she might never have put that simple combination of words together before. It was way past due. When had he become so considerate and so perceptive? This was exactly what she needed. It took her a moment more to actually process what he had said. “Are you saying you filled this whole tub up with hot water you heated in buckets over the fire?”

Spike shrugged, “Twas the way it was always done back in the day. You lot take your modern conveniences for granted - don’t know how to live without. It’s no big deal.”

“It is big, Spike, it is very big. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I had the leisure or privacy to luxuriate in a hot bath. Thank you.”

Spike shook his head ruefully and looked away. “When you’re done, you can relax across the way. I’ve told Dawn and the others to come by around nine. Should be back before eight, if there’s anything you need.”

“What’s happening at nine?” She sounded sincere. If so, that meant that for once Dawn and the others had managed to keep their mouths shut. She really had no idea what was going on tonight. Of course, the others didn’t realize the extent of what he had planned either. He hoped that it would prove to be a welcome respite for all of them. Gods knew they needed it. Just the stress of all trying to coexist in a house meant for four people was driving them to distraction, let alone the shadow of the impending apocalypse.

He smiled a little and rocked on the balls of his feet. He was more sure than ever that this was what they needed. “Having us a party. I thought you all needed a chance to relax a bit. Unwind. Originally thought of it as a Christmas party, but the holidays got away from me somehow.” He grimaced a bit at that. Buffy realized that although the holidays had been bleak and bitter for the Scoobies, they were no doubt worse for Spike. He had spent Christmas being tortured by The First. She was still a little bit ashamed that it had taken her so long to come to his rescue. She had never apologized to him for allowing his captivity to last so long. She hoped it hadn’t been too bad; but then she knew better.

After a moment Spike continued in the direction his thoughts had gone. “Everyone can be assured they’ll be safe and sound for the night – I’ve paid for a bit of professional spell casting – so no demon violence here tonight.” He raised his hand towards her face, then, thinking better of it, lowered it again. “For tonight at least, you’re just a bunch of girls having a party and the world can take care of itself.”

Buffy decided that she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and if Spike wanted to let bygones be bygones and play the host, she was more than happy to let him. Truth was, she was more than just a little strung out, and some serious relaxation would be greatly appreciated.

The bath smelled heavenly and she could just imagine how terrific it would feel to slide under the water and let herself completely relax. She tested the water with her hand, relishing the sound it made. The silence of the house itself was amazing; no girls’ constant chatter or complaining, no footsteps stomping or dishes rattling. She could actually hear the swish of the water under her hand and the gentle pop of the soap bubbles bursting. She grinned as she shooed Spike out, firmly closed the door and began to undress. She discovered that it was even quieter in the tub.

**

Much later, a soft rap on the door startled her – she must have fallen asleep. “Buffy – you fall asleep in there? Water’s gotta be cold by now.”

Buffy wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Who was this man and what had he done with the Spike she knew? “Buffy- you haven’t slipped under have you? If you don’t answer me I’m going to have to come in there after you.” He pushed the door open partway, but made no move to enter. “The room across the hall is yours – fire’s going so it’s nice and warm and the bed’s been turned down for you if you want to take a nap before the party.”

Belatedly Buffy realized that the soap bubbles covering her had long ago disappeared and she was completely exposed lying in the tub. Hurriedly, before he could push the door open any further, Buffy called out, “I’m fine Spike. The bath was a great idea. The bed sounds even better.”

“Right then. Want me to wake you up after a bit so you can get ready – or should I just let you sleep?”

In the hallway, Spike could clearly hear the sounds of Buffy emerging from the tub. Could imagine that brief moment as she stood, her skin glistening with damp rivulets of water and foam running down her breasts and thighs, before she could reach for the warm towel that he had left out for her; rubbing it over her legs and thighs to dry them. He had to hold himself back from entering the room, from just opening the door a little more so that he could see her reflection in the mirror, from reaching out to touch her.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he was almost startled when she stepped out into the hall wrapped in the towel. “What do you mean ‘get ready’? It’s just gonna be us and the potentials….”

The words died in her throat as she looked down the hallway. On each doorway were hung three or four full-length evening gowns with matching shoes and accessories. One was midnight blue with silver stars and matching slippers. Hanging next to it was another of pale silk, and a third of deep maroon. Looking down the hall were dresses of every description, each lovelier than the next. As she drew closer to feel the fabric, she noticed that on each dress a nametag was attached. This dress was meant for Cho-Ahn. The one next to it was for Kennedy. There were so many. Buffy wasn’t even sure that she knew all of the girls’ names - let alone their dress or shoe size.

She looked at him, eyes questioning. She saw a slight smile she couldn’t recall having ever seen on him before as he shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted it to be something beautiful, something for everyone to remember. Like the parties of my youth, I suppose. Beautiful women dressed to the nine’s, dancing until three in the morning without a care in the world. I dunno - selfish of me I guess, to want to see something like that one more time.”

“Selfish?” Buffy turned back to look at him, reluctantly letting go of the streams of fabric she was holding. “You go to all this trouble for us and you call that selfish? Believe me, they’ll all love it.”

“Well, I didn’t really ask you or anyone else if they wanted a fancy dress ball – it was just something that got stuck in my head and then I couldn’t get rid of it. I’m just grateful that Dawn and Xander agreed to go along with it and help me out some. Without too much complaining.”

“Complaining? Dawn was complaining about this? I’m gonna kill her.”

“Come on Buffy. Have you ever known Dawn or the SITs not to complain? I wouldn’t be surprised if they ripped each other’s eyes out over a hairpin, and it’d all be my fault.”

Was that really the way Spike saw his place in the world? That no matter how hard he tried to do the right thing, if anything went wrong, he’d be blamed for it? “Spike, I personally will deck the first girl who says one whisper of complaint. I promise.”

His smile broadened into a more familiar smirk at her words, and there was the twinkle in his eyes again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. “And what if the first one to complain is you, luv?”

That was more like the Spike she thought she knew. “Never.” She shook her head vehemently. “But if I do, then I give you permission to take a shot at me. Really, I can’t believe that you went to all this trouble to set this up. There will be absolutely nothing but praise and gratitude from all involved.” A thought occurred to her. “Unless you stole all this stuff. You did, didn’t you?”

“Not a bit of it.” Buffy glared at him and he knew that nothing but the absolute truth would do. “Well, that might be a bit of a stretch on the truth. But then I wasn’t expecting three new girls in as many days. But if the store’s boarded up and the owner’s fled, there wasn’t really any way for me to buy it proper like, now was there? So seeing as I did the best I could to honor your code of ethics, I’m gonna hold you to that no complaining promise. If you think such a thing is possible, Slayer.”

Spike looked like he didn’t believe that Buffy could make it through the evening with one single complaint, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially since she was standing not two feet away from him wearing nothing but a damp towel.

“In you go to rest then. There’s a nightshirt for you on the bed. I’ve got to oversee the rest of the decorations and the catering.”

“Catering? There’s going to be catering? Where did you get the money for all this, Spike? Suddenly you’re rich?”

“Always been loaded, Slayer. Gem of Amarra wasn’t the only treasure in that tomb, let alone what I’d already had put by. Just didn’t see the need to spend it. Except when you and Dawn were short on dosh – but back then you refused to take anything from me – especially not cash.”

If that was true she was more of an idiot than she had thought. All those hours of suffering at the Doublemeat when all she had to do was ask Spike for a loan. But then, she really couldn’t have. Thinking about it now, the distinction really didn’t make much sense. She had taken advantage of Spike in every other way possible. Taking his money too shouldn’t have been difficult. But then, it really wasn’t about Spike. It was about her. Taking his money would have made her feel like a whore. She tried to think of something to say to him to express what she was feeling, but it wouldn’t come.

Instead she simply reiterated her earlier promise. “I promise you nothing but smiling faces all evening.”

The temptation to reach up and kiss him just then was very strong, but Buffy held it back, and headed into ‘her’ room. In the normal course of events right now, dealing with the latest and greatest evil, she didn’t have time to deal with her feelings for Spike as well – whatever they were. It wasn’t fair to him to start something that she wasn’t sure she wanted. They’d been down that road before, and it had almost destroyed them both. Any personal or romantic relationship she had with Spike would have to be all or nothing. She admitted to herself that she did have feelings for him – of one type or another.

And then there was the fact that he hadn’t once proclaimed his love for her since his return from Africa. She wasn’t sure if he still felt the same way. But she needed his help and his unconditional support right now, and she couldn’t allow other emotions to get in the way. Maybe there’d be time to explore their relationship more after The First was taken care of.

Spike smirked and counted off the seconds as he started back down the stairs. He heard her open her bedroom door, rustle around, close it again, and finally come out to stand at the top of the stairs, one had on her hip and the other still clutching the towel to cover her.

Spike looked up and smirked even more, seeing she was still dressed in nothing but the towel. “Nothing wrong Buffy, is there? No complaints?”

Buffy looked down at him and fumed. How had he maneuvered her into this position? Did he do it on purpose? Or did it somehow just work out this way? She shifted from foot to foot, feeling guilty. “It’s not a complaint, Spike. Really, it’s not. Just a question.”

Spike continued to leer at her. “You’re sure about that? Because I wouldn’t want to give you a shiner just before the big shindig. Wouldn’t look right what with your pretty dress and all.” Of course he wouldn’t actually hit her, but she couldn’t know that for sure, and that was half the fun. Then again, maybe he’d just take her over his knee…

He had to close his eyes and will away his body’s response to that thought. Spike couldn’t help thinking that she looked vulnerable and innocent standing there in only a towel, and the thought of her bare bum under his hand … well, it would be bad with the others due to arrive soon.

He had almost forgotten how young she still was. And how much fun it was to tease her.

“So. You did get me a dress, you’re just hiding it from me. I take it all back Spike. You are evil.” She was furious, but Spike had always thought she was most beautiful when she was angry. “Why didn’t you put it on my door like all the other girls?”

“Cause you’re not like all the other girls, are you? More fun if you have to ask me for it. Specially standing there in just your towel.” Grinning, he disappeared for a second and then returned carrying a long opaque dress bag. She tried to hide her disappointment that she still couldn’t see what he had picked out for her to wear.

“I’m sure its lovely Spike,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt. What if it was really hideous? After all, Anya had had the most horrible taste, and it had been difficult to get her to decide on something that was even halfway decent. But then she remembered the other dresses in the hall – they had all been beautiful. Surely, the dress he had chosen for her to wear would be as well.

She felt a thrill pass through her as she reached to take the dress from him and their hands touched for just a moment. Their eyes met and held. If Spike could have blushed he would have. Instead he coughed lightly and took his hand away. “Go get your beauty rest, Slayer, so you won’t be all complainy Buffy when you wake up. As you’ve said, I went to no little trouble to set this up, and I’ll be right annoyed if you don’t enjoy it. If the herd of girls getting ready doesn’t wake you up, I’ll let you sleep ‘til eleven o’clock. I’ve a Christmas waltz planned for midnight, and you’ll need to be dressed and ready by then.”

“Dancing? There’s going to be dancing?”

“Course. What kind of a party would it be without dancing?”

“But a waltz, Spike? No one knows how to waltz anymore.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Slayer. That sounds awfully close to a complaint. Again. It’s my party and I’ll choose the music, the food and any other bloody thing I feel like. Just don’t you worry how to dance. Follow my lead and I’m sure it will be as smooth as if we were fighting.”

Buffy wasn’t sure how to answer that, or whether or not she had been insulted. So she settled for a non-committal “Whatever” and stomped up the stairs. She placed her gown on the back of her door and found a nightshirt laid out for her on the bed. She hadn't even noticed it before. It was only when she went to put it on that she realized that she’d been standing there talking to Spike with her hair damp and wearing only a towel. Her first thought was to be embarrassed. But the more she thought about it, the more aroused she became. After all, they were alone in the house now. They could do anything, and no one would have to know.

Buffy tried to reign in her thoughts and calm down as she brushed out her hair. Whoa girl. He does one nice thing – well, okay, a whole lot of nice things, and now you’re ready to fall back into bed with him? So not a good idea. Remember, you were gonna think things through this time. Spike and I are friends. Good friends. Close friends. I’m not gonna let a momentary indiscretion jeopardize that. Besides, I need Spike for this battle. Hot and cold running Buffy would not help your cause.

Buffy finished brushing her hair and decided to braid it before lying down. No electricity meant no hair dryer – somehow she’d have to do without. The freshly made bed smelled wonderful, and the fire in the grate was both cheerful and soothing. She was sound asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Chapter 2

Buff couldn’t contain her sigh of pleasure at the feeling of cool hands softly caressing her shoulders. The bedroom was now overly warm, and she didn’t protest as her white silk strapless gown fell away to pool at her feet. She could see the desire building in his eyes, matched only by the flames burning behind her own half-closed lids.

As their lips touched gently, it felt like the first time they had ever kissed. Fleetingly she thought that perhaps it was. This Spike who had come back to her was different from the one she had known before. She wondered just how deep those differences ran, and whether she was about to find out. She giggled as she thought how odd it would be to have the experience of making love with Spike for the first time – again. If what they had done together could be called making love. Somehow she was sure that this time, it would be. This Spike was gentler, more playful. She smiled into the kiss. She could hardly wait to find out.

Smiling, she led him to the bed, still warm from where she had lain sleeping. Gently, so gently, she began to undress him. When he was finally naked, she inspected every inch of his body. New scars marred his once nearly perfect flesh. She shuddered at the thought of the torment that would be necessary to inflict those kinds of lasting wounds on a vampire, hoping she could erase at least some of the pain as she bent to kiss each one. She wouldn’t count them. There were too many. Maybe one day she would be brave enough to question him about what he had endured, but not today.

Finally leaving the rest of the scars for another time, Buffy decided she couldn’t wait any longer. Using no force at all she gestured that she wanted Spike to lie back on the cushions. Kissing him deeply she moved to cover his body with her own. Slowly she began to move, rocking the bed slightly so that the headboard tapped against the wall. Although she knew no one else would hear them, the noise was disturbing her concentration. She slowed until she was barely moving, but the annoying sound grew louder and more persistent.

“Buffy? You awake?”

Spike’s voice at her door brought Buffy abruptly awake. Her face flamed as she realized what she had been dreaming, and she hoped that Spike was far enough away from her that he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment.

This time Spike couldn’t restrain himself, and he peered around the door looking at the vision of Buffy sprawled out on the bed, nightshirt barely concealing her rounded backside. The soft scent of her arousal reached his sensitive nostrils, and he was mesmerized. He tried to pull himself away, but he simply couldn’t.

“I knocked and knocked, but you must have been really out of it. Not even the sounds of all those birds fluttering about woke you. You’re bloody exhausted, Buffy. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Blinking her eyes, Buffy tried to ignore the remnants of the dream (or was it a premonition?) that still clung stubbornly in her brain. She and Spike were in the same bedroom as she had imagined, but she was still decently covered in her nightshirt (or almost so, as she quickly adjusted it), and Spike was on the other side of the room, standing in the doorway.

Blinking, she wasn’t completely convinced that her mind hadn’t merely moved on to another part of the same dream. She stared awestruck at the vision he made. This couldn’t be real, could it? Standing halfway in the room, Spike stood dimly illuminated by firelight. He was once again dressed in his traditional black, but a fancy black tuxedo had replaced the jeans and t-shirt. She blinked a few times and pinched herself to make sure that she wasn’t still asleep. “Wow. He really cleans up well.” The words came out in a whisper – but of course Spike could hear them.

“What, you think the fancy dress was only for the birds? That wouldn’t look proper now would it?” He strode over and pulled the covers the rest of the way off the bed, picked her up and set her on her feet. “Come on, time to get ready and join the party. The guests are beginning to wonder whether I’ve got you chained up in the basement somewhere.”

Only Spike could make a joke out of what was possibly one of the most painful days of his unlife. But looking back on it now, it surprisingly did seem kind of funny. Now she believed that Spike had been all flash and bluster when he had talked about setting Drusilla loose on her if she didn’t admit her feelings for him – but back then she hadn’t been nearly so sure.

But she didn’t want to voice any more of her thoughts. Instead, she relied on her ever-ready snippy comments. “Fine. Fine. Give me a minute will you? I want to do this dress justice.”

Spike held out the dress for her to put on, but made no move to leave the room. With a gasp, Buffy realized that it was the same white silk dress she had been wearing in her dream. Confused, she decided not to argue, as she gestured for him to turn around so she could slip it on quickly. Then she moved to stand with her back to him so that he could help her fasten it. She shivered as he put his hand on her waist so he could pull the zipper up – the scene was so similar to her dream. If she hadn’t still been in something of a haze, she might have taken offense as she heard him whisper, “You’re always beautiful to me.”

It wasn’t quite a declaration of love, but it was close enough. Since he had his soul restored, Spike hadn’t made his feelings for her quite so plain. Until now she hadn’t really considered whether his feelings towards her had changed. Hadn’t really cared as long as he was still willing to fight for her. Strangely, she realized that although his declarations had made her feel uncomfortable before, now that he was silent on the matter she missed knowing where she stood with him. She didn’t want to admit that she missed the feeling of being loved so fully and unconditionally. No, she assured herself, it was only the uncertainty now that she found uncomfortable.

She glanced in the mirror and was almost startled to see only herself reflected. Since the soul, she had begun to think of Spike as almost human. The next thing she noticed was her hair – it was even worse than she had feared it would be. Starting to come undone from the braid and sticking out at strange places making an unruly mass that would take forever to untangle.

“Don’t lie to me, Spike. My hair’s a mess. I don’t think a quick fix is going to be enough to make me presentable. I knew I shouldn’t sleep on it still damp, but there was no hair dryer….”

“I won’t call you on it just this once, Slayer, but remember you promised, no complaining. Besides, you don’t need a hair dryer. Women have been doing their hair just fine for centuries without hair dryers. You’d think you could manage it for one night.”

“Women may have managed without hair dryers, but this woman has not. You’d better leave Spike, I don’t think this battle is one you can help me with.”

He mimed being shot to the chest, “It pains me that after all this time, you still have no confidence in me. I’ll have you know that I dressed Dru’s hair for over a century.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Spike regretted them. The reference to Dru was unfortunate, and he could see that Buffy’s mouth had turned down.

“Dressed her hair? What’s that supposed to mean? And if you think that I want to look like that ho, you are so wrong.”

“Don’t worry. On your worst day you are far more lovely than Dru could ever be.” Taking her hand, Buffy let Spike lead her over to the dressing table, where she had noticed an array of clips and combs, obviously meant as accessories for her hair – but Buffy didn’t know what to do with them. She usually either left her hair loose, or tied into a quick ponytail. There was even an assortment of her own cosmetics on the table. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”

The mirror didn’t reflect the slight tremble in Spike’s hands as he leant to take the brush away from her. “Let me.” He whispered softly in her ear, and Buffy felt goose bumps begin to rise on her neck, knowing that he was so near. As he took a handful of her hair and expertly began to undo the tangled locks Buffy slowly began to relax again.

Wanting to help her unwind, that was after all the purpose of the evening, Spike decided to keep up a steady monologue. That way the Slayer would be able to keep track of him by the sound of his voice, since she couldn’t see him in the mirror. “Used to do this all the time for Dru, even Darla sometimes. No mirrors, remember. Plus, I think they just liked it – having me help with their hair.” He wasn’t about to admit to how much he had liked it too - so sensual and delicate. Being one of the fanged four had been many things, but soft and sensual was rarely one of them. Course, being with the Slayer hadn’t been about romance and flowers either, much as he had wanted it to be. But he wasn’t going to go there – not again. They were friends now, and he wasn’t going to muck this up like he did the last time.

“Would you,” he stuttered for a moment, trying to get a hold of his emotions. “Would you like me to put it up for you? I’ve brought some things…”

Buffy had been enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair, his voice speaking softly, leaving soft puffs of air on her bare neck. She hadn’t really been paying attention to anything he had been saying though, so she prevaricated, “What?” It came out a little more harshly than she had intended, so she tried again. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I could help you put your hair up – doesn’t have to be fancy. Just get it off your shoulders….”

The sensations were getting to be too much. She needed a little distance, so she answered flippantly, “That would be great, Spike. Get this untidy mess up and out of the way. Kinda goes with the whole fancy ball thing.”

“Yes,” he said simply. Spike was completely immersed in the moment. The smell and feel of her hair was intoxicating. He had helped Dru do her hair more times than he could count, but he didn’t mention how often the soft play of her curls and the close proximity of her neck had led to other things. He wondered if Buffy had any idea how erotic this was for him. He half wished that he had the conviction of his previous incarnations so that he would be brave enough to kiss her bared throat. But he knew that he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it, and also knew that it was probably for the best. Even if she acquiesced, it was probably better that they didn’t get involved again. He had messed things up so badly the first time, he was afraid to make a misstep. He valued the friendship that they had now. If she wanted more than that, then she would have to be the one to initiate it.

Except for a few moments when they fought, or when Spike had still been convalescing, they hadn’t been this physically close since the year before. And Buffy honestly couldn’t remember a time when she’d allowed him to touch her so gently – even when they had been sleeping together. The year they had spent together hadn’t been about tenderness.

Unlike Angel and Angelus, Spike and souled Spike usually seemed pretty much the same to Buffy. It was only in moments like this that Buffy could sense the vast changes in him. Or perhaps he had always been like this, but she had been too blind to see it. Surely pre-soul Spike would not have let the opportunity go without making a pass at her, or at least making suggestive comments. He never would have simply let himself suffer and enjoy their closeness without pushing for more.

But at least he hadn’t been lying, Buffy saw as her hair seemingly bent itself into rings and sprays held by gold butterfly clips. Spike had certainly done ladies hair before – Buffy tried not to let thoughts of Spike and Dru spoil her mood.

Finally, he was satisfied, and Buffy had to admit to herself that she was also pleased with the results. She felt like a supermodel or a movie star on the cover of a magazine. It was almost surreal as Spike took her arm to lead her downstairs.

“One more thing. I almost forgot.” He turned back momentarily then slipped a brilliant gold and diamond-studded choker around her neck. “There, now you’re perfect.”

Buffy had to agree. The color of the dress set off her skin tones and eyes perfectly and the necklace tied it all together with an elegance she knew she’d never had on her own. Behind her, the sounds of her sister’s latest infatuation boy band filled the hallway. Buffy nearly skipped down the stairs, while Spike watched from above, smiling. This was how she was meant to be – beautiful, happy and carefree. Not burdened with the fate of the world. He was glad that he had given her this, and that he had been privileged enough to see it.

**

The SITs and their friends filled the great room downstairs. The men were easy to pick out. They were the only ones in black. Giles, Xander, Wood, hell, even Andrew looked pretty hot in a tuxedo. And each man was virtually surrounded by a sea of girls. And the girls themselves… they looked amazing. Beautiful, elegant, carefree and relaxed in a way Buffy had never seen them. Every color of the rainbow was represented in their gowns. They were young, beautiful, alive, and despite their training, still so very innocent of death and killing.

One long table had been pushed against the wall and the leftovers of what must have been a fabulous spread littered the table. Buffy almost let out an annoyed comment, but then remembered her own promise of no complaints. So there was no food left – no big. She wasn’t here to eat, she was here to relax and have a good time. And she had had that wonderful long soak in the tub and a long nap that she couldn’t possibly have lived without.

Spike had left her to her own devices and was chatting with Amanda and some of the other girls on the other side of the room, so she headed over to Xander and Dawn.

“Great party, huh,” Dawn gushed. Buffy had never seen her look so radiant and grown- up in a long empire-waisted blue gown with matching hair ribbons. Around her neck was a matching necklace almost as elaborate as the one Buffy wore, only Dawn’s was accented with both blue and clear stones. Somehow, the outfit vaguely reminded her of the gown Sweet had conjured for her – while at the same time being totally different.

“Did you try the cake? It’s so out of this world. You really should say something to Willy – Spike hired him to cater everything and he really did a great job.”

“Willy?” Buffy was stunned.

“Yeah, Spike had him cater the food. It was great.”

Even Xander had something good to say, “And amazingly enough, totally human friendly. No blood or other unmentionables – well, if you don’t count Anya’s stinky yak cheeses.”

“No,” Dawn agreed, “Not demony at all.” She looked over at the decimated table, “Too bad it’s all gone. Guess that’s what happens when you sleep most of the party away.”

Buffy had promised no complaints to Spike. Didn’t say anything about not sniping at her sister. The least the little brat could have done was save her a few pieces of fruit or ‘stinky cheese.’ Jeez, some people here hadn’t even had dinner. She opened her mouth to say something snarky but closed it again. Dawn simply looked so happy. Happier than she could remember her being since before Mom died. She wasn’t going to ruin it by saying something nasty. So, Dawn was self-centered and unsympathetic. What else was new? She was a teenager – that’s how teenagers are supposed to be.

Buffy wandered around the room chatting with Giles and some of the SITs. Xander had asked her to dance, but she had declined. She was still slightly sleepy and a little grumpy at having to go without dinner. And almost everyone she talked to commented on how great the food had been. Finally, she ran into Willy himself, escorting one of the girls off the dance floor. She was a little surprised that he was here with them, enjoying the party, but figured Spike must have invited him.

Before she could say anything, Willy began. “It really was nice of you and Spike to invite me to stay for the big shindig, Slayer. I’m not usually much of a party animal myself, but Spike said that you were a little short on humans of the male variety. Also, mentioned something about a protection spell on the place – so I figured why not? I haven’t danced so much since I got myself invited to a Chancre demon’s wedding. Turned out anyone not dancing was assumed to be part of the buffet. Plus, I have to say, most of your girls are a hell of a lot prettier than a Chancre demon.”

Most of what he had actually said had passed right by her – the music was loud just where they were. Idly Buffy noticed Dawn’s boom box on the floor nearby and tried to step away from it slightly so she could hear herself speak. “I wanted to let you know that everyone is just raving about the food, Willy. I hear it was really good. I guess that’s why it’s all gone now.” She tried not to let the pout slip into her voice.

“Didn’t you try it, Slayer? You need to eat more – you’re as thin as a rail these days.”

“Well, it’s not for lack of wanting. It’s just that I overslept, and by the time I came down it was all gone.”

“You look in the kitchen?” Willy suggested. “I coulda swore I saw Spike put aside a plate or two for you, Slayer. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Thanks. I think I’ll do that,” she said, nonplussed. She scanned the crowd and spotted Spike standing in a group with Anya, Dawn and several other girls. The sight of Spike anywhere near Anya still got her angry. “I think I’ll just head into the kitchen and check it out,” she murmured.

Spike saw her look over at him for the first time that evening, and decided to follow her into the kitchen. He’d wondered how long it would take her to find the stash of goodies he’d set aside for her. He had to stop for a second when he opened the door and saw her tucking into the food hungrily. Dressed so elegantly it made his unbeating heart ache, she had food in both hands, and was messily tearing into a chicken wing, which she had dipped in ranch sauce. The dressing had pooled around her lips at the side of her mouth, and she was greedily licking her fingers.

The sight evoked memories, which, if not exactly painful, were inappropriate at the moment. He moved quickly to put the kitchen island between them, so that she wouldn’t have the opportunity of a laugh at his expense. Damn tuxedo pants were made of much flimsier fabric than his jeans, and revealed far too much of what he was thinking.

Spike had learned early on that the best defense is always a good offense, “Enjoying yourself then, pet?” he drawled.

He rarely called her ‘Pet’ or ‘Luv,’ anymore, and Buffy wondered what had brought it on. She was still feeling snippy, “Unlike you, us mortals get hungry. I didn’t have any lunch and I slept through dinner – I don’t know how I was going to last until morning.”

“What, you think I don’t get hungry, Luv?”

His voice was taunting and rough, and heavy with desire. When Buffy looked up at him, she could see the hunger in his eyes, and it wasn’t for the food. This was more like the Spike she remembered.

He reached out a hand towards the plate of food Buffy was guarding, and without thinking, she slapped it away. For a second she was stunned by what she had done. Why was her first reaction always to hurt him? Best to brazen it out. “You saved it for me, so it’s mine. If you want some you’ll have to ask,” she quipped.

Spike had gone quite still. Immediately as she slapped his hand a shiver of pleasure ran through him. God, how he missed touching her. Every brush of her hand, every blow while training, reminded him of how badly he wanted her – how much his body still craved her, and how hard the soul had to work to restrain himself from letting her know that.

Before he could pull himself together, the kitchen door burst open and Robin Wood strode in. He took one look at Spike’s face and Buffy’s hand still touching his on table by the plate of food, and snorted. “Not interrupting anything, am I?” Without waiting for a reply he went on, “Giles told me you’re hiding some actual alcohol in here, a way from the children. Can’t imagine why no one else would have mentioned that to me.” Another pointed look over to Spike.

“Sorry if you missed the memo, mate.” He was pretty sure Wood didn’t miss his sarcasm, although if Buffy noticed she made no sign. “It’s just out the backdoor.”

While Wood was out of the room, Buffy squeezed Spike’s hand, and mouthed the word, “Sorry.” When Wood came back in carrying two cans of beer, Buffy was happily tucking into her food again, and Spike was leaning against the refrigerator. Wood spied the food.

“Glad I came in here. Who knows what else you’re hiding?” It was said with a smile, but Spike noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. Spike didn’t much care for Wood, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Without asking, Wood reached over and helped himself to the last of the shrimp. Spike could tell Buffy was simmering, but she didn’t say a word as Wood munched away happily. “I must have had about a dozen of these earlier. They sure are good.”

Reaching over to grab another helping of something else, Wood never realized how close he was to finding himself flung back out the kitchen door, chip be damned. But Spike had looked to Buffy before moving, and she held him back with a shake of her head. She didn’t want Spike’s assistance. But apparently she wasn’t ready to speak up for herself either. Spike had to content himself with looking glares at the man, hoping he would take the hint and leave. Couldn’t Wood tell that Buffy had been seriously under eating? But Buffy shook her head again when she heard Spike growling under his breath. It was her choice, after all. If she didn’t want to speak up for herself, it wasn’t it his place to stand up for her. She was the Slayer after all. She could take care of herself.

Just then Faith and Andrew burst into the room. “Hey, we hear you’ve been holding out on us B. Where’s the good stuff?”

Robin gestured to the door, just as Andrew commented, “Ooh, more food. Did you try these chicken wings, Spike? They’re terrific. Makes me wish I was a demon and had the nerve to go to Willy’s on my own. Not that I’d be afraid to go in there, of course, just, just that I’d feel uncomfortable being the only human, well besides Willy anyway.”

Spike just shook his head and made to leave when he felt a hand on his arm. For a brief second he hoped that it was Buffy, asking him to stay. But it was the other Slayer, Faith. “Don’t tell me that’s all there is, out on the porch. I know you’ve got some of the strong stuff around here somewhere. Giles had Scotch.”

Damn and damn. Beer and wine weren’t enough for these interlopers? Of course Faith needed to have a go at his good Scotch. And he knew what would happen too. Faith would have some, and then Wood, and finally Andrew. Andrew wouldn’t like it, and couldn’t handle it, but he’d just have to have some so that he wouldn’t look so much like the wimp he was. He’d probably be sick later too. Then not only would his liquor be gone, but they’d probably all blame him for their hangovers too. He should have known it would come to this and kept his private stock of liquor completely off premises.

Only question was, should he give in gracefully as the Slayer had done, or put up a fight? Probably didn’t matter. They’d get what they wanted anyway, so he may as well salvage what he could out the situation and get on the Slayer’s good side, by offering.

With a look at the Slayer, making sure that she knew that she had started it, he pulled out the bottle and several empty glasses. Poured one for himself and left the rest. Of course they didn’t take it in good graces. Faith jabbed him playfully (but hard) “Knew you were holding out on me, Spike.” At the same time Wood grumbled, with a sideways look at Buffy. “Knew he was hiding something. Probably lots more we don’t know going on too.”

Spike had had enough and left for the main room with his drink. He remembered that the courtyard was always lovely at this time of night. Perhaps there he could be left in peace. He ran into Dawn on the way, and the two of them sat outside looking at the stars in silence for a while.

“This is nice, Spike,” she said. “I understand why you brought us all here, even if it is kinda weird and creepy that Angel used to live here. We needed a break. Some time to relax and relate to each other in a way that doesn’t involve killing things. Buffy especially. I don’t think that the others can see it, but she’s kinda…fragile right now. On edge. Like she’d grasp at anything to keep from sinking. I think that’s why she went out with Principal Wood that one time.”

Spike knew that she meant her comment to make him feel better, but instead it just made him feel worse. Is that what Buffy’s on again off again attraction to him was? An attempt to keep herself from falling over the edge into despair? That wasn’t what he wanted from her. He wanted her to want HIM, not any random bloke who offered to make her feel better for a night or two.

And what had that been about, in the kitchen? Spike hadn’t let her see how her actions had affected him. At the same time that it had aroused his passion, her slap had also hurt his feelings. He didn’t know how the same action could evoke two totally contradictory feelings in him, but it did. Somehow Buffy was good at that.

Chapter 3

Spike was still brooding by himself in the garden when he heard a commotion at the door. Trying to avoid Buffy he peered back into the main room so he could keep track of what was happening. He trusted the non-violence spell to work – but there were limits to that trust. Especially where his girl was concerned. And despite their current relationship or lack thereof, he still considered Buffy his girl.

He watched as Buffy exited the kitchen and started heading towards Giles on the other side of the room, when she realized that someone or something was outside the door. Just looking at her, Spike could tell that her first thought was that despite Spike’s precautions something evil had found its way to their gathering. She was cursing herself for believing that they were secure, and had turned to run upstairs to retrieve her weapons, when she saw Spike watching her. They both heard the doorbell, and Spike watched the Slayer pause as she took in the sight of several men just on the front porch. He could almost hear her wondering whether he had invited vampires to their supposedly demon free evening.

Anya had been standing closest to the door, and had gone to investigate. Xander was also nearby, and made as if to intercept her. Unfortunately he was just a step or two behind her when he heard Anya invite the men in.

“Anya, no, you should know better than to invite strangers in,” Xander almost wailed. But it was too late. The vampires, demons, whatever they were, they were already inside.

Shushing Xander away, Anya tried to keep him quiet. “They’re human, Xander. Don’t you think I can tell?”

Anya admitted to herself that she really was a good judge of man flesh. Her first impression had been correct. All five of the newcomers were gorgeous. They were all relatively thin and well built, and generally pleasing to the eye. To the casual observer, Anya admitted, any one of them might actually be compared favorably against her ex. Of course, after his horrific treatment of her, Anya felt that many other men were starting to look good in comparison, even Giles. At least Giles was a gentleman. And if Spike wasn’t exactly a gentleman, well, at least he did have other charms to make up for it. She wondered briefly if his charms had been diminished in any capacity by the addition of his soul. She wished she could remember their night together better. She wished she hadn’t been quite so drunk. Of course if she hadn’t, it probably never would have happened.

She almost sighed. It didn’t really matter anyway. Despite what they said, or didn’t say, Spike still only had eyes for Buffy. And Buffy, well, as far as Anya could tell, Buffy still wasn’t sure whether to trust Spike with her heart again. It was a familiar feeling to Anya, who fantasized nightly about Xander returning to her and begging for her to take him back. Depending on her mood at the moment, she either imagined a very erotic reconciliation, or Xander’s complete and utter destruction at her hands. After all, she had been a vengeance demon for hundreds of years. She literally knew thousands of ways to torture a man.

Anya suddenly realized that she had lost the gist of the conversation. First Xander had annoyingly but predictably tried to protect her when no protection was needed. Then she had been distracted by the men’s good looks, which had naturally led to unfavorable comparisons with Xander, and thoughts of his inconstancy. Not one to remain a wallflower, Anya decided to move the conversation in the direction she wanted. She didn’t care if she knew the men’s names. Unless she picked one out to receive more individual attention, she figured it really didn’t matter. But if one of them seemed sufficiently interesting, then she supposed it would be necessary to know his name before having sex with him.

“So, let me get this straight? You all know Spike?” She was still puzzled. How did the vampire come to know five great looking human men, and why would he invite them to their party? “Just how do you all know each other? You do know that Spike’s a vam….”

Suddenly Spike was there, beside Anya, with his hand on her shoulder. “Anya, no need to be talking out of school. They know me well enough - known George here at least, what, four or five years is it?”

“Yeah, about that, ” the man agreed. “I remember when we first met. You were with that blonde chick, Harmony. Too bad you broke up. You two sure had a great gig going there for awhile.”

“Wait a minute. You knew Harmony? You knew Spike when he was with Harmony?” This wasn’t adding up at all as far as Xander was concerned. That was years ago. He’d assumed that Spike had somehow met these guys recently. But Harmony was around before Spike got his soul, even been before Spike had gotten chipped. And in any case, Harmony had never been chipped. Wouldn’t she have just eaten any humans she met?

The guy, George, didn’t seem to notice Xander’s confusion. “Yeah, Harmony wasn’t much to talk to, but she sure was a looker. And boy, could those two pull in the bucks.”

Spike interrupted again, “George, I don’t think the nice people need to hear about what’s past and done with. We go back a ways, is all. No mystery. Worked together for a while.”

Xander almost spilled his drink. “You worked?”

“From time to time, when I wanted some extra dosh.” That wasn’t precisely true, as he had confessed to Buffy earlier. He’d always had plenty of cash stashed away. He just hadn’t wanted to squander it. Especially not on Harmony. At Xander’s amazed look Spike continued. “What? The pitiful pennies you lot paid me wasn’t enough to keep a dog in style. Had to find other sources of revenue. Willy was kind enough to employ me for a while, then provided a reference. All above board and legal like – well, mostly.”

“Did you do retail?” Anya asked. Perhaps if they worked together something might happen between them. “Cause I could always use another pair of hands at the Magic Box, assuming that we all survive long enough to re-open that is.”

“Thanks Anya, but it was mostly just tending bar. Besides, I’m over that little rough spot and I’m flush again. Or at least I was until I decided to sponsor this little event. As you said, not sure it really matters what happens afterwards, assuming there is an afterwards.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for the gift. Jewelry is always a girl’s favorite. At first I thought it was just me, but then I saw that all the girls got one. You didn’t steal all this stuff, did you? Because I’m not giving it back, even though I know what it is like to have your inventory stolen, and I can't say it was a very nice feeling. Of course, a lot of merchants have already left Sunnydale. I don’t know how anyone could do that. Just leave their livelihood behind like that. It’s not like there’s demon’s chasing them or anything. At least not yet.”

Smoothly George interrupted, slightly panicked, by the talk of the impending apocalypse. “You really think we should head out of town, Spike? I mean, this town has seen trouble before…” George and his friends were tough customers. If they hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have lasted in Sunnydale nearly as long. Of course once they had become Spike’s friends, that had afforded them a measure of protection. But that wasn’t going to help them now.

This time it was Xander who interrupted. “Trust me. This time it will be worse.”

“But why aren’t you all leaving then?”

Anya smiled gleefully, “Well, somebody has to stay and protect the shop from looters. And then there’s the possibility that some of us might actually be able to help. But if you don’t have any big material investments that you can’t take with you, you ought to get out while you can. A body as lovely as yours shouldn’t be used as cannon fodder.”

George turned to Anya, apocalypse apparently forgotten in favor of the attentions of an attractive woman. “Like what you see, do you? You should see me without my shirt on, but Spike made it very clear, no removal of clothing allowed.” George turned to Spike then, “She’s not one of the little girls, is she?”

“What? Of course she is,” Xander sputtered. He didn’t like this talk of removing clothing, or the way this guy was looking at Anya. Or, for that matter, the way Anya was looking at him.

“He means the little girls, you git. The potentials,” Spike answered, annoyed. “I told the boys that Dawn and her friends were here for a big martial arts competition. And being children and all, it’s a strictly hands off policy. Doesn’t apply to Anya. I think you’ll find that Anya’s way over eighteen and able to make decisions for herself.”

“Of course I can make decisions for myself,” Anya piped up. “I’m just trying to decide if I should keep George here as an orgasm partner tonight, or whether I should pick one of the others. It would be easier to choose if you hadn’t told them that they couldn’t remove any of their clothing. They could be hiding anything under those suits, or nothing much at all.”

“I so do not want to hear this,” Xander groaned. “Anya, tell me you aren’t serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. I’m very serious. Just because you aren’t giving me orgasms any more, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get to have any.”

George didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but the frank talk about orgasms was quite a turn on. Besides, it wasn’t often he and his mates got invited to be guests at fancy dress parties like this. “You mean you and him used to be an item, but you aren’t now? Is that right?”

“Yes. And he was very mean to me too, told me he was going to marry me and then walked out at the last minute. He’s very lucky you know. I’ve killed men for less in my time.”

Xander blanched, but George continued on blithely, obviously either not quite hearing her or not understanding how literally she meant what she said. “Can’t promise much in the marriage department, since I’ve only just met you and all. But if it’s orgasms you want, I can promise not to disappoint.”

“Really? Cause I like several you know. Just because you men are somewhat limited in your capacity doesn’t mean the rest of us should suffer.” Anya took his arm and the two of them wandered off towards the courtyard, leaving a stunned Xander and a pleased looking Spike behind.

Xander just stood there shaking his head. “What just happened here?”

Spike had little sympathy for him. “Probably what shoulda happened a long time ago. She’s finally decided that you’re not going to change your mind, and she’d better start looking elsewhere.”

A few feet away, Faith was talking to two of the other new arrivals. She’d looked at them a little funny when they asked if she was part of the big martial arts competition, but she took it in stride, figured it was a good a cover as any and better than most.

Glossing over the part about spending the last several years in the State Penitentiary, Faith was trying hard to decide which one of the men she was more attracted to. She really wanted to end the flirting soon and get down to the good part. But for some reason men seemed to think that they needed to chat a girl up before getting horizontal. Faith really didn’t see the point. They were all young, hot and willing. What else was there to say? Finally what one of the guys had said registered with her lust-addled brain.

“The Rooster? You and the hotties work at the Red Rooster?” Faith laughed. “Now I know why you all look so yummy. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m sure that I’ve seen you there – but it wasn’t behind any bar. In fact, it wasn’t behind much at all. Why am I wasting my time trying to choose between you? Let’s all head upstairs for a little R & R.”

Overhearing her conversation, Xander looked confused eyes at Spike. “The Rooster? That’s where we had my bachelor party. It’s not really a bar, more of a strip joint…”

Spike could almost see the wheels slowly churning in Xander’s head, and watched amusedly wondering what conclusion he’d finally come to.

Xander continued thinking out loud. “We were originally going to have the bachelor party on a Thursday. You know so we’d be all clear-eyed and everything by Saturday morning, but they told us no. Thursdays are reserved for Lady’s Night.”

Spike could almost see the lights go on in the boy’s head, before he suddenly screeched, “Strippers? You guys are like male strippers?” It took a few more seconds for the idea to penetrate Xander’s brain once it had passed his lips. “Spike, how do you know a bunch of male strippers?”

But his question went unanswered as Buffy bore down on Spike. Apparently she had overheard the entire exchange. “You are so dead mister! You invited male strippers to a party with my little sister? That’s worse than demons! Get them out of here. Now!”

He hadn’t seen Buffy this riled up in a while. She was breathtaking. “It’s not like they’ve come to perform, Buffy. They’re just regular blokes with interesting job skills, is all. Besides, I told them all the children are under age. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll keep it PG.”

“Why would you even think to do such a thing?” She sputtered.

She was so beautiful when she was angry. Spike hadn’t seen her with so much fire in a long time. He was so busy looking at her that it took him a few moments to compose an answer to her question.

“Well, I figured it would be more fun if it wasn’t just us. More like a party. Plus, there’s decidedly fewer males than females, which tends to put something of a damper on the evening. Didn’t want the girls to have to make the dubious choice of Andrew or Giles as dance partners. Besides, might give them something else to giggle about for a change. Knew nothing would happen when it shouldn’t. Between you and me, the boys are just a little bit afraid of me. Can’t think why.”

“They don’t know, do they? Now I know that you’re out of your mind.”

“What’s the worst that could happen, Buffy? One of these girls might do something you think she’s too young for. But you know, and so do I, that not all of these girls are going to make it. Would it be so terrible if they experienced life first?”

He was right. Buffy knew he was right. But that didn’t make it any easier to take. She lifted mournful eyes to him and muttered, “I so did not need to hear that.” Trembling with rage, Buffy stalked off and cut in on Vi’s dance with Andrew. If Vi was a little miffed, Buffy didn’t notice, and Andrew’s eyes were large as saucers.

Chapter 4

The party went on for hours, Buffy pointedly ignoring Spike for the rest of the evening. The promised midnight waltz came and went without her. One by one, the girls began to grow tired, and began to make their way back up to the rooms that had been assigned to them for the night. Spike had made sure that fires were lit in the many fireplaces, and extra wood and blankets were ready to keep them warm. The girls would have to share beds, or some would sleep on the floor, but it was still far more spacious than the accommodations they had been sharing at Buffy’s house. Buffy was the only one who had been given a private room, and if Spike had hoped to share it with her, it wasn’t by so much that he hadn’t made alternate plans. He would sleep on a cot in the basement.

Not surprisingly, Buffy had remained angry with him for the rest of the evening, pointedly dancing with every male at the party, including George and Co., but not Spike. The snub hadn’t been wasted on him. After cleaning up, he’d sleep in the basement, where it would be blessedly quiet and random acts of sunlight couldn’t reach him. He’d make up with Buffy tomorrow.

As he was turning to go downstairs, his eyes fell on a bit of something shiny in the corner. He picked it up. It was one of the necklaces he’d picked out to go with the girls’ dresses. It was set with rubies – probably belonged to Cho-Ahn or Angela. He didn’t want it to be forgotten, and decided it was a nice excuse to go upstairs and talk to the Slayer a bit, maybe mend some fences now that she knew that Dawn’s virtue would remain safe.

Buffy had already shut her door, but he could hear her getting ready for bed. The rustle of the gown as she let it fall to the floor – the gentle swish as she once again slipped into the nightshirt he’d gotten for her. He could hear as she carefully removed her earrings and necklace and laid them by the dressing table. Now was his chance. He knocked softly and pushed open the door.

“Didn’t mean to bother you, but I wanted to make sure that this got back to its owner.” He held the necklace out before him like an offering.

“Of course you did, Spike. I’m sure your motivations had nothing to do with coming into my bedroom as I’m getting ready to go to sleep. I’m sure if you’d just been a little faster, you could have caught me in the all together.”

Why did she still always think the worst of him? He didn’t bother to point out to her that he could have easily barged in at the opportune moment if that had been his agenda. In fact, he had purposely waited outside her door until he knew that she was decently covered.

“Seriously, Buffy, you’d do me a big favor if you’d tell the girls to be careful with these things. I’ll probably still be sleeping when you all go home in the morning. I went to a lot of trouble and expense getting these doodads – the least they can do is take care of them.”

Buffy wasn’t impressed. “Right, Spike, I know you went to a lot of trouble to set this up, and we all appreciate it, really. But despite what you said, we all know that you stole all this stuff. So it seems kinda wrong for us to keep it.”

Now it was Spike’s turn to be angry.

“I bloody hell did not. Well, except for the last few. Who expected more Potentials to show up just in the last few days? Besides, it’s not like half the stores in Sunnyhell aren’t already boarded up. Place is almost a ghost town. Pretty soon they’ll be no one left except for us and the looters.”

“So, you’re telling me that you bought all this stuff with stolen money. And that’s supposed to be better how?”

“Told you I didn’t steal it, and I didn’t steal the money to pay for it either.”

“Then where did the money come from, Spike? We all know you don’t have any money.”

“Just shows what you know then, doesn’t it? Who do you think has been keeping the lot of you in food and supplies these past few months?”

“Giles and the Council…”

“Council’s gone, Buffy. Oh, there’s money there somewhere, but I don’t think Giles knows how to access it on his own. They never made provisions for a large-scale disaster like what happened. Don’t know if anyone’ll ever figure out how to access their accounts.”

“So you’re saying you’ve been paying for everything?” It was pretty evident that Buffy didn’t believe him. “Where’d you get the money, Spike?”

“I’m sure that you remember a fancy bit I had once called the Gem of Amarra? YOU stole it from ME if I recall, and gave it to the sodding poof. But that wasn’t the only thing I found in that vault. Not by a long shot. Course I didn’t care about much but that ring at the time. But despite appearances to the contrary, I do think ahead. Came to me that a tidy bit of dosh could be a useful thing to have, and I pocketed a few other trinkets that appeared they might be valuable. Found quite a few other baubles along with that ring.

“But you’re right. That’s not the half of it. Later on, I found out some of the treasure had been stolen before the whole thing caved in. By none other than the vamps that had been working for me. I decided to take exception to it. It became kinda a crusade. I tracked the demons down and explained to them how it all really belonged to me. Not surprisingly most of them were willing to give back what they’d stolen, once I explained the alternative. There was more’n enough to feed and equip this small army for months. Years, if we had years left to live.”

He knew that she could really have no idea how much treasure had been in that underground crypt. He hardly believed it himself, looking back on it with more human eyes. If she had any inkling of how much the jewels she was wearing were really worth, he knew she’d never accept them. Course she would never have to find out, unless things went all to hell, as seemed likely. He’d even paid extra for a spell that would ensure that if any of the girls ever tried to sell or pawn their gifts, they’d be offered a fair price for them. He didn’t want to have to watch as anyone he cared about have to struggle the way Buffy had that year working at the Doublemeat. Not if he could help it.

“So, you’re saying you’re rich?” A thought occurred to her, “Just when did all this happen? Last year, when I was desperate for money…”

“Told you I could get you money. You wouldn’t take it from me.” Suddenly seemingly tired, Spike sat down at the dressing table where he had done her hair.

“As to when it started, well, guess it was when I was helping to take care of Dawn. While you … weren’t around. I came to realize that in the human world, money was not an extravagance. Not when you have to pay for food, clothing and bloody college tuition. I mean, vamps only need money if they intend to take up housekeeping, or just to show off. It was never something I was very interested in.” He laughed, “I wanted to be able to brag about the things I’d done, not how many dollars I had in some sodding bank. Anything I wanted, I figured I was strong enough to just take it.”

“So not the way to live. Reminds me of Faith’s old credo, ‘want, take, have.’ Not the way to go. So, you’re rich now? That how you got to and from Africa?”

“No, and no. I guess that I was rich for a while, but like I said, unless it was to help out you and yours, it just doesn’t mean anything to me. This little shindig here – well, I’m just about tapped out. Should be enough to see us through until the end -- after that, I’m not much sure that it matters much.”

“This party cost that much?”

“Well, the spell casting wasn’t cheap. But that wasn’t the main bit. That’s what I came up here to tell you, Buffy. You need to keep good care of your jewelry. It’s not paste.”

“What do you mean? What’s paste?”

“Paste, glass, cubic bloody zirconia, whatever they call it now a days. What I mean is, if it looks like diamonds or sapphires or such like, well then it is.”

He had to be careful here, if Buffy had any idea at all how much her jewelry was really worth he’d never convince her to keep it. While it was true that all the trinkets he’d given out were valuable, none were worth a fraction of what he’d spent on Buffy and Dawn. For their jewels he’d gone to an exclusive store near L.A. Between the two of them, their necklaces could buy a small mansion in Beverly Hills, or half the town of Sunnydale. He’d put no little thought into framing the gift in terms she would accept.

“This is real? I can’t take this…”

“It’s not just yours, Buffy. Though I did make sure to pick out something special for you and the Little Bit. They’re all real. All the jewelry I gave to the Potentials.”

He sighed, and began his prepared speech, “There’s no way to tell who’s gonna make it out of here and who’s not. I wanted to be sure that everyone had a little something to help them get back on their feet when it’s all over. I didn’t want to make the same mistake the Council did, in thinking that there would always be someone survived who knew where the money was hidden. So I cleaned out my accounts and divvied it up between the lot of you. Small, lightweight, easy to carry. Won’t burn, melt or weigh you down.”

He looked at the floor, before looking up and meeting her eyes. Now came the hard part.

“Besides, I wanted you to have something beautiful. The Council may never tell you, Buffy, but it’s a terrible thing that they’ve done to you all. Made you into tools for their war, willing or no. You deserved better. You all deserved better.”

She had stopped glaring daggers at him, and Spike could tell that she was finally softening to him again. He was only sorry for the cause of it.

“We’re really not all going to make it out of this, are we Spike?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “I think our luck has finally run out. But, I wanted you all to have this memory, and these things to take with you. So that those of you who do survive will have some fond memories of one another. Not just the times you all got under each other’s skin crowded together in your Mum’s house.”

“You really put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

“Had a lot of time on my hands for a while there. I …”

They were both startled by a perfunctory knock on the door, and the sudden appearance of Dawn.

“Spike, you in there? Buffy, do you know where Spike is?” Dawn pushed into the room, the elegant lady of earlier transformed back into a gawky teenaged girl.

“Oh, good. Glad I found you. Listen, the party’s been really great and all, but we have a crisis on our hands.” At the looks both turned on her, Dawn backpedaled quickly, “Okay, not really a crisis, crisis. Jeez, will you guys chill out? It’s just… well…” Dawn stopped and blushed.

“Out with it already, you’ve already scared us half to death. What’s the problem? Girls not like the sleeping arrangements?”

“No. No, nothing like that. No one would complain to you about that. It’s just… well. We’ve used all the napkins Willy brought, but we can’t find anything else.”

“What are you talking about Niblet? She making any sense to you, Buffy?”

“Buffy! Please tell me you understand…” Dawn looked imploringly at her sister. Clueless, Buffy shook her head.

“We can’t find any toilet paper. Did you buy any toilet paper, Spike?”

“Bollocks! I can honestly say the thought never crossed my mind. Are you sure you need it?”

“Spike, this house if crammed full of girls who’ve been drinking punch all night. We’ve only managed to last this long using dinner napkins, and Amanda brought some tissues cause she’s still got a head cold. We’ve scrounged through all the closets we could find – and boy was that nasty – but no one’s found anything useful.”

Spike swore again, then turned to look at Buffy who was giggling. “What?”

“Oh, come on, it’s funny. We’ve been complimenting you all night on what a great job you’ve done, but you forgot something as basic as toilet paper?”

“Not like I use it myself. That was something one of my human helpers should of thought of, right Dawn?”

“Well, maybe. But we really, really need it, and everyone else is afraid to go out to get any. I mean, the protection spell is only on the house, right?”

“Right then. Off I go. A vampire’s work is never done.”

“Hold on, and I’ll go with you. Haven’t killed anything all night, I don’t want to get rusty.”

Spike smiled. A romantic starlight walk? Not a bad idea at all. “Whatever you say, luv, whatever you say.”

Epilogue

Buffy slept until late morning. By the time she awoke, the house appeared to be empty. She was grateful that Dawn and the others had let her sleep. She hadn’t realized how much she had needed that one night off, and a good long rest. Hadn’t realized how much of a difference it would make in her outlook on life. She had really enjoyed the evening. All of it – from her bath, to her nap, to the party, to the late night patrol to acquire toilet paper. And Spike was a big reason why the evening had been so enjoyable. Even the times she had been angry at him. Wryly she realized that doing things to spite him all evening had perhaps been the most fun of all. She so rarely got the opportunity to tease him anymore.

The house was a little eerie with no one around. Buffy had always thought of this house as Angel’s. But she didn’t know who really owned it. She supposed it could legally belong to Angel. After all, he did own a hotel in L.A.

But wandering around in the house by herself, it suddenly occurred to her that Angelus had lived in this house first, with Spike, Dru and several others. An entire coven of vampires. She wondered what the vampires had used all these rooms for, and who had inhabited them.

She shivered to think that she might have been sleeping on the same bed that Angelus and Dru had slept on. Had they actually slept together? She had never been clear on that, and hadn’t felt comfortable asking Angel. After all, he had been Angelus then, so whatever he did or didn’t do she shouldn’t hold it against him.

For the first time it really hit her how ready she was to exonerate Angel for everything Angelus had ever done, and how difficult it was for her to extend the same courtesy to Spike. She sat by herself for a while in the sun of the courtyard, thinking, and relishing the opportunity to be alone.

The kitchen and main room showed few signs of the party from the night before. Most of the debris had been cleaned away, garbage piled in neat bags by the front door. Spike had obviously stayed up after she had finally gone to bed and spent no little time cleaning up the place. She wondered why he even bothered. She wondered how much longer anyone would be left in Sunnydale to collect the garbage, or anything else.

Sunnydale was falling apart. Even if the apocalypse was averted, she wasn’t sure that the town would ever be the same. The resident’s complacency had finally broken, and people had begun to realize what was going on all around them. Finally seeing the place for the death trap it was, for the most part they had done the sensible thing. They had left town. She almost wished she could have gone with them. Even if they came back. She didn’t think the town would ever fully recover from its loss of innocence.

Finally feeling the weight of the solitude and too much time to think, Buffy figured that the only place left for Spike to be was the basement. It had been almost dawn when she had finally left him to go to sleep. They had had a quiet patrol after the party. They hadn’t met up with anything they couldn’t handle easily, and it had been fun to let off a little steam. Then they had raided a drug store for supplies, and returned with copious amounts of toilet paper.

Upon reflection, it had been one of the better parts of the evening. It had been nice to spend some time with Spike just walking and talking. They hadn’t done that much lately. Come to think of it, they hadn’t done that much ever. But when she looked back at her relationship with Spike, those were the nights that stood out in her memory the most. The nights they had spent just as friends, walking, talking and fighting together.

After last night, with everyone beginning to feel good about Spike again, she wondered if she could dare to let herself begin to feel for him again. Although he was always around, underfoot some might say, she missed the closeness that they had started to form before she had ruined it all. She often wondered what would have happened between them if she hadn’t forced herself on him in that abandoned house.

More importantly, she wondered if they could have a different kind of relationship now. One that involved mutual respect and friendship as well as really great sex. Gods knew she could use a release for all the tension she’d been feeling lately. But she was being selfish again. Thinking only about her own needs; what would make her feel better. It was time to start talking to Spike again, ‘suss’ things out. She smiled to herself as she used Spike’s word. (What does ‘suss’ mean anyway?) The two of them needed to decide together what kind of relationship they would both be comfortable with.

Buffy opened the cellar door and left it open so that there was enough light for her to creep down the stairs. After the snarking was over, she had really enjoyed Spike’s company. She wanted to spend some more time alone with him. Maybe have that ‘talk’ they needed to have. See where things went from there.

No one would notice it if it was another hour or two before she returned to the house on Revello. She was sure that they’d just assume that she was still sleeping. It would be the perfect ending to a perfect evening. Now that she’d had some time to sleep on it, she knew that there was no one else she would rather be with than Spike. He was perfect for her. If only he felt the same way.

The basement was only dimly illuminated by the indirect light from the kitchen window. The small casement windows in the basement itself had been painted over with an opaque paint, letting in only smidgens of light. Between that and the light from the kitchen above, Buffy could just make out the sleeping figure of Spike sprawled out on a huge bed near the back wall, the covers barely concealing his still form. He looked so peaceful and innocent sleeping. Always had. She longed to run her fingers through his hair, hold him tight and tell him how much this evening had meant to her. How much he meant to her.

As she moved closer she almost tripped over something on the floor. At first she couldn’t tell what it was, but when it barely moved when she pushed it with her toe, she bent down to see what was there.

Involuntarily her hand went to her mouth as she took in the debris that littered the floor. Chains. Handcuffs. Whips. Other things she didn’t even want to know the name of.

Shaking, she started quickly back up the stairs.

Why had that stuff been there? Surely Spike hadn’t brought it with him? It hit her hard - despite the soul, despite the fact that beneath the gruff exterior he was a kind and thoughtful man - he was still a vampire. Still part demon, with a demon’s needs and desires. She wasn’t sure that she could handle that now. Certainly she hadn’t been able to handle it last year. Not really. Despite the fact that she had taken to as if she were part demon herself.

No, she wasn’t ready to resume a relationship with Spike. Maybe after everything was said and done, the battle over with. But now, she realized, it would just take too much of her energy and focus away from where it was needed.

She ran up the stairs and out the door into the sunlight and all the way back to her mother’s house without stopping.

She ran so fast that she didn’t hear the cursing that echoed after her.

“Bloody hell! He’s not even here and still Angel somehow manages to get between me and my girl. I knew I should have cleaned up Peaches’ mess down here! Some day I’m gonna kill that Poofter!”

But images of his torturing and dusting Angel were interfering with Spike’s fantasy of having Buffy back in his arms again. It only took a split second for Spike to decide he’d much rather think about having Buffy back than waste even a moment’s thought on Angel. Despite their misunderstandings, Spike felt that the evening had helped bring the two of them closer together. Perhaps there was hope for them after all.


-Finis-