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Author's Chapter Notes:
One more to go and I'm back to where I started--and new stuff will be happening.
As small a world as it wasn’t, Buffy hadn’t expected to see Lilly again, let alone have her barge her way back into her life with stories about missing boyfriends. She didn’t want to be rude, but boyfriends that were of the gone was far from a situation Lilly had cornered the market on. So sue her for her lack of interest that Rickie had done the runner when Lilly’s clueless back was turned.

It was enough to have Spike’s ears prick in their direction—of all the diners in all the city…Spike had to be snacking in hers. Sure, he said he was going to hound her to patrol that night until she gave in, and when the sky was overcast, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in her section, as bouncy and enthusiastic as usual. But this thing with Lilly? She didn’t want to know that other girls even had boyfriends, let alone that they were being deserted by them. Still, Spike’s curiosity was piqued by the mystery and he came swaggering up to butt into her emphatic disagreement over helping locate the guy.

That didn’t stop her from trying to pass the buck before Spike actually reached them, though. He couldn’t argue if she’d solved the problem before he’d even opened his mouth and offered to help, could he?

“Well…did you call the police?” See? Sense-making Buffy was on the case. Totally nothing for Spike to gripe about. Why waste her weary resources chasing after a guy that had probably just gotten a clue and bolted?

The willowy girl sighed. “Rickie skipped out on his parole. Uh, they would just cause more trouble.”

Was there a handy wall she could beat her head against? Buffy could totally see how this would go. Spike would convince her to do the good deed—totally wig her out that he even wanted to be a part of this without someone’s neck as a service fee—and they’d find the guy macking on some other newly tattooed girl. Ugh! Perfect way to waste a night when she could spend it ambiguously restless and wondering what Spike’s next move would be.

“Trouble, huh? Just what none of us would be looking for, hey, pet?” Spike had closed in and slung an arm around a disconcerted Buffy, tightening his hold so that she knew exactly what his intentions were.

She was a stubborn slayer, though, and Buffy refused to give into Spike’s desire to do good. It just seemed so wrong—despite all the ways he’d made her body feel so right recently. “I don't know. Did you…did you ask around?”

Buffy knew it wasn’t meant to be as soon as Spike caught wind of there being a case to solve. It didn’t stop the tide of futility that nearly made her seasick when it hit. On the one side, she had an innocent—someone who needed help being looked after because Lilly was far from being an independent girl of the world—and a formerly evil vampire who was now promoting himself as a good guy.

“Can you help me?” persisted Lilly, and Buffy wanted so much to just run away.

“Uh, I-I can’t.” Buffy shrugged off Spike’s arm and started walking away. She was trying to work, after all. Unfortunately, that meant she couldn’t shake them off, and both were straight away following her and attempting to change her mind.

“But... but that's who you are and stuff, right? I mean, you help people, and, you know...”

Spike stepped up again, smirking as if he had Buffy caught fair and square. He confirmed the new girl’s assumption with a very British “too right,” and inadvertently grabbed Lilly’s undivided attention.

Buffy couldn’t fault the fear that suddenly struck her, recognition of Spike finally hitting her. She should have known it would happen sooner or later.

“Oh God, but he’s…he…he bit me. He was going to kill me and you saved me from him.” Lilly had paled and looked close to fainting, and Buffy was increasingly aware of how her words sounded to customers close enough to hear. However, she lacked any comeback witty enough to deflect the damage.

“Lilly, it’s okay—” was all she had, and as the trend went for her lately, it apparently wasn’t enough.

“Are you with him now?” Her eyes were wide and frightened and Buffy felt panic well up as she became the focus of several startled, curious expressions. She’d never wanted this—never wanted to be the centre of anything anymore—and as much as Spike had made things better simply by being around, she still wasn’t ready to be looked at. To be seen as anything but a faceless servant in a world busy ignoring the little people.

“How about we take this little chat outside?” Spike was trying to calm the situation, but Buffy knew not much could spare an escalated moment of screaming unless she took some action.

“Stay here,” she hissed at the vampire before taking Lilly’s arm and dragging her out of the diner.

On the street, the girl was close to hyperventilating. Tears made her eyes shine and Buffy felt a sliver of emotion kick back into her heart. She felt sorry for Lilly. It was tough being dumped—tougher being alone when you’d been secure in someone taking care of you. And that sympathy—more than Spike’s eagerness to solve the world’s puzzles in one crazy night—was enough for Buffy to give in and agree to help. But first, she had to allay Lilly’s fears—as well as her own—and make it possible for Spike to be a part of this little expedition. A screaming ex-victim was exactly what they didn’t need and Buffy knew that Spike wouldn’t stay behind, even if she threatened him with a really thorough beating.

“Look, Lilly, I’ll help. Okay? But you have to believe me about Spike. He’s harmless now. He’s not going to hurt you, and he might really be useful in locating Rickie. He has those gross skills, like sniffing scents and stuff.” Buffy watched as tears of hopelessness slid down the frightened girl’s cheeks and waited.

Lilly offered up a weak smile and Buffy’s heart went out to her. It wasn’t easy going through this. Too many times she’d wished she could convince herself that Angel had merely left her, not been swallowed up by a Hell dimension to save the world. Just once, she would like to live in denial and be the girl that everyone felt sorry for, felt sad for while she struggled to adjust to being on her own. She didn’t want to carry the burden of guilt; she didn’t want to be the one that had killed her boyfriend so that the world could go on spinning.

“Are you sure?” she was asked, and even though she really wasn’t, Buffy nodded.

Spike had done nothing to make her suspicious of his amazing back-flip, and as she had so few friends—like, none really—Buffy felt inclined to take him at face value. She knew that was wrong, dangerous, but there was no watcher waiting in the wings to ask for advice, no Angel to tell her that Spike was bad news and would probably kill her one day while she slept—though the way things had been going, one sign of Spike’s inherently evil nature would probably shock her to death and leave her a sobbing wreck.

“I really am.” And Buffy smiled confidently. She really was.

~~~~~

“I’m not sure.” Lilly squared them off, her lip wobbling with grief, too scared to move and avenge her boyfriend’s death like she probably felt she should. Her vulnerability lay in her lank hair, her hunched shoulders and the sobs that occasionally broke through her voice and died at her lips. She was shaking, and yet Buffy had to keep pushing her back from going to find Rickie’s murderer.

“Look, you asked for my help,” Buffy reminded, her slayer hat pinned firmly to her head. “You want this guy that killed Rickie? I can get him. Spike can get him. But if you come with us, we’ll be distracted and I can’t have you be in danger like that.” Buffy knew what she was requesting was reasonable. She’d had enough of innocents being taken because they followed her—because they knew her. If she could save Lilly’s life and her own sense of responsibility, she was already walking out of there a winner.

Spike stood impatiently at the door, a completely inappropriate grin on his face. Buffy understood, though she knew that Lilly didn’t and she was likely reassessing just how much of Buffy’s confidence in the vampire should be taken at face value. He was pumped for the fight—eager to jump into the fray and take down some evil. Buffy still couldn’t understand his change in tune, but right now she wasn’t arguing with it. But he could tone down the mega wattage just a little and be respectful of the girl’s grief.

Buffy shot him a filthy, disapproving look and he was confused for a moment until she spoke, offering her commiserations and sorrow to Lilly who was finally taking a seat on the bed, her legs giving into the weakness of her uncertain position. Spike rolled his eyes and opened the door, not even waiting for her as he strode down the hall.

“Would it kill you to be just a little bit contrite? Have some sympathy? Her boyfriend is dead.”

Spike stopped dead, then turned abruptly to pin Buffy with the most menacing look he’d risked around her since he’d shown his face to her again. “I’m a vampire, Buffy. I couldn’t give a bugger about humanity’s pain. I’m here for the thrill—for the fight—for God and freedom and the American way. I’m evil. I couldn’t care less about her bloody feelings.” And he turned his back on a stunned Buffy and kept moving toward danger with an eager spring in his step.

She shouldn’t have felt hurt. Shouldn’t be feeling any of the shock that his sentiments forced upon her. His vampirism and evil nature wasn’t a smoke screen—wasn’t a party trick he could surrender at will. He was irrevocably both those things and Buffy wondered how she had come to blind herself to those facts. Not once had he tried to argue he was any different; instead, it had been Buffy—all too prepared to not question his new objectives and accepted him in her life and room without a second thought.

Spike had just whipped off her rosy glasses and stomped them to a mangled, crunching mess on the floor, leaving Buffy clear-eyed for the first time since she’d really allowed him space in her life. And the sight before her—a strutting, powerful and dangerous force of evil with a twisted agenda to be the world’s saviour—was the most painful image she’d seen in months. Only seeing the soul flash in Angel’s eyes before she speared him through had been more gut wrenching.

It stung like a bitch to be wrong—and left her questioning every little thing since she’d invited Spike into her boring life. Since she’d given him access to her body. God, why hadn’t he attacked her? Was he after some greater prize? Was he waiting until her humiliation was great before he struck and made her his third trophy slayer?

Even as she followed him out onto the chilly, angry streets, Buffy felt sick. She didn’t catch up to him proper—couldn’t while her gut churned and fought to find relief. Seeing the smooth black coat at his back kept her in focus, reminded her who she followed and who she’d claimed to trust a mere hour before. If she’d struck a path at his side, chanced a glance to the side and saw such blue, intense sincerity in his eyes, she knew she’d forget easily all over again. Having Spike around allowed her to hide from her pain—allowed her to run from who she was, buried under a name like Anne.

The tears that began to prickle at how thoroughly she’d been tricked were pushed stubbornly away for another time.

They’d reached The Family Home and rather than waiting for the invitation Buffy thought he needed, Spike barged in and had their target by the neck and dangling in the air in a matter of seconds.

“Spike!” There was a world of meaning in that exclamation. Resentment, irritation, jealousy and anger, all underlined in hurt. Buffy rushed forward just as the demon decided it was time to play rough, and in a tangle of limbs, the three fell into the sludgy looking pool, only to find out what hell looked like in the flesh.

Buffy felt the thud of the impact in her bones and wondered if retiring from being the Slayer actually meant that someone could take away your powers. Though she was foolish to start thinking about being weak as the hideous face of the leader of Family Home was revealed. Buffy struggled to keep down her lunch and she vowed to not be so dismissive again of the destiny she had been gifted with to protect people from freaks like this.

The arrival of guards moved them further out into the actual operation of the place, and Buffy was shocked at all the faces growing old and tired before her eyes. But Spike stood tall, a weapon suddenly in his hands as one of the guards went down and didn’t get up.

“Now this is a fight. Pet, choose a weapon and let’s get to the killing.” Spike sneered at the leader, Ken, and baited him into coming closer. “You picked the wrong kids to lure into your little enterprise. Slayer was friends with one, and now you’ve got two seconds to surrender before I cut off your head.” His eyes flashed brighter, his tongue curled behind his teeth, and Buffy struggled against her attraction for the evil killer. The muscle in her chest that she no longer could think of as her heart clenched, resignation leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She was here to save lives—Spike was here to have fun. And while that resulted in the same thing, Buffy was angry that she’d allowed Spike to buy his way into this by purchase of her body and sentimentalities.

No time, she reminded herself, and Buffy joined Spike’s side to fight, feeling the satisfaction of killing those that didn’t value life like she did. Destroying those that used life to further their own ends. And the futility and the hate made her stronger.

With bone cracking strikes, Buffy scattered the opposition, left some moving painfully and other’s moaning but moving even less. She struck back at those that were responsible for taking the one Lilly had handed her dependence to, and it made her senses soar. This was who she was, what she was made for, and no matter what the motivation was of the fighter at her side, he was doing the job and saving lives. Did it matter that they meant so little to him in the long run?

She stepped aside at a blood curdling battle cry, and almost smiled as Spike hurtled past and jumped into the fray, his body collecting a number of undirected demon guards and taking them down into the bowels of the iron works.

There were too many people to save, and Buffy was struck with hopelessness. She stood on the platform and watched as Spike leapt to and fro, taking as many demons and glorying in their spilled innards as he went. Buffy was both amazed and disgusted, and turned her back on it. She fought her way back to the inner chamber, eyed the surging black pool that was the exit to this world and slowly counted to ten. She reached nine and prepared to leap back through the sludge, her inner steel prepared to never see Spike again if he didn’t make it back in time. Bending her knees for the jump, Buffy had almost released the energy that would set her free as Spike hollered and raced Ken back through the place. There was the grating of steel and the sickening screams of agonised defeat, and then a nauseating crunch that had Buffy feeling slightly sick. In a whirl of pace and confusion, he was there, white blond head flaring into her vision as Spike streaked the final length to her side, his hand reaching around her waist and leaping with her back to their world.

With a flash of ceremonial light, the pool solidified behind them. Buffy slowly regained her feet and took a step away from Spike, the vampire lying on the floor and laughing with success.

“Bloody hell. That was fun.”

And the sickness of dread settled even heavier as Buffy kept on walking.





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