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Second

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Of all the places she avoided after he had left Sunnydale, the Bronze had to be the one place which really had her friends annoyed with her. She couldn’t bring herself to go there. She could see him standing by the stage, leaning against the bar, sitting in one of the chairs. He was everywhere, imbedded in the notes of the loud music and swirling around with the cigarette smoke.

She hadn’t cried when he left. She had actually been numb for three weeks. She didn’t feel anything anymore. It reminded her of when she was brought back from the grave, and how she had felt as though a part of her was missing. She always managed to get her mind away from that fact though.

Lingering reminiscence of the shock their final battle with the First had put in her; that was all it was – the numbness.

The bleached, master pain-in-her-ass was finally gone. She never had to think about him ever again.

But...

Everywhere she looked was some sort of testimony to his stay in the town. Everywhere was some sort of memory; some good enough to not frown over, others too bad to want to hold on to. But their origin didn’t matter in the big picture – because the big picture was what all of them combined made out and that picture was him.

Not evil, not souled – just him. And all that he had been to her. Enemy, fellow warrior, confidant, support, lover, savior.

She was in her bed, snuggled under her covers, and she closed her eyes at the thoughts moving through her head like syrup. She couldn’t get the stickiness off of them, they refused to leave her be.

They would.

Someday they would leave her alone.

She had never thought she would get over Angel, but she had.

When Riley went away she had wanted to never look at another man until he returned to her and she could tell him how she felt about him, but that had worn off.

This empty feeling around her heart would dispurse. Like a candle blown out, the smoke of it would rise through her and set her free. Once it lifted she would be rid of him, of Spike.

The loneliness coursed through her painfully.

Where was she going? What was up ahead?

She hadn’t even the faintest clue, but she knew she could face it alone. She had faced the Master, and the Mayor, and thousand of nasties inbetween, without him. She could surely face the future without him, too?

Biting her lower lip she winced as her teeth broke through flesh and the coppery taste of blood gently slid over her tongue.

But she wouldn’t cry. She had never loved him; she had never felt anything at all for him – only about him.

She wouldn’t cry.

***

It was close to two months since he left, and it was night time, when he returned.

The roar of the motorcykle woke the Slayer, but her mind was too fogged with sleep and she simply rolled over on her side and tried to drift off again. Then the doorbell rang and she grumbled with irritation.

However, someone else had already opened it and Dawn’s arms wrapped around the vampire’s neck tightly as she whispered:

“I’m so happy I got a hold of you.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hugging her back before they let each other go, worry was in his voice as he added: “Your letter... It said I had to come straight away.”

Dawn nodded slowly.

“She’s barely eating... She acts like she’s fine, but she can’t fool me,” she replied, voice lowered as she glanced up the stairs in the hall as though she was afraid her sister would hear her. “Something went bad when you left, Spike. I just had to get you back here before she...”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head a little, and Dawn trailed off.

“Niblet, I can’t do that. I can’t see her again,” he mumbled, his eyes showing such deep sorrow that the younger clenched her jaws together at the sight of it.

“How are you holding up?” she asked and he smiled bitterly. “Why are you doing this?”

“I have to go,” he grumbled, turning.

“But you just got here!” Dawn stopped him, grabbing his hand.

“I can’t bloody well stand in the hallway ‘til your sis comes down and asks what the racket’s all about, now can I?” he replied, almost hissing, and Dawn let his hand go.

“You’re not doing well, I see,” she muttered.

He looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just never thought I’d ever be standing here ever again. Or see you. Or her. I can’t bloody do this! You have to understand, I’m not what she needs, Bit. She’ll get stronger, she always does. Seeing me won’t change anything. It’ll just ruin what I’ve been able to...”

“So she hasn’t been in your head for the past two months?” Dawn interrupted softly and his eyes grew slightly, then defeat filled them and he looked away from her. “You haven’t missed her? It’s that easy for you to just walk out of here? Again?

“Bloody hell,” he breathed, annoyed at the subsiding conviction that not seeing Buffy was the only right option.

He would have given his right hand to be able to just look at her. Spend one minute in her presence and rest his eyes on her. He knew it would calm him. The past two months had been hell on earth, and now, to leave without even seeing her.

Dawn observed him patiently.

She knew he had to make the decision ultimately for himself, but perhaps the adding of Buffy’s well-being into the equation would make the decision come more easily. They had to see each other. It seemed everything had just been broken since he walked – or rather rode – out of their lives. Buffy had to tell him that.

Spike hesitated. This was so stupid. Why had he come back at all? Of course, he knew why. He would have walked through fire for Buffy, if she’d only asked him. But she had told him goodbye and he had listened. With Dawn’s letter he had felt a sliver of hope cut through the longing within him and he hadn’t been able to ignore it.

Everything he cared about in this world resided within the four walls of this house, and being parted from them made him feel lost and rootless. He knew the Slayer’s home was nowhere near to be called his, but she had still accepted him into it and now it was all he knew.

“Dawn, who’s...?” Buffy’s voice sounded as she began to walk down the stairs, but her sentence was cut in the middle as she raised her head at the same time as the vampire did, and she stopped short.

The shock was building in her eyes as they slowly grew wide and her hand reached out to grab the railing tightly. Her heart was beating up her body with its harsh pounding and she felt the blood rush through her veins as she stared at him. Him. He was there.

“Spike?” she asked, voice cracking.

“Hello,” he replied silently, his eyes not interpretable as he looked up at her, and then she could see it: the warmth burning around the irises, and she recognized it.

He’d come back.





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