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They stood side by side in the semi-darkness.

Spike let out a low whistle. “This doesn’t look good.”

“Worse than I thought.” Buffy said quietly.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Buffy squared her shoulders. “I’ll take the big one on the left.”

“You sure?” Spike frowned. “Looks kind of dangerous.”

“Yeah.” She kept her eyes fixed on her target. “You take the bunch over there. Watch yourself, though. They don’t look too stable.”

“OK.” Spike nodded brusquely. “Let’s do it.”

There was a glint of steel in Buffy’s hand. “You need these?”

Spike glanced over at her. “Nah. You have ‘em. I’ve got a knife.”

Buffy let out a long sigh. “Guess this is it then.”

“No puttin’ it off any longer.” Spike agreed.

They took a step forward together. “How many do you think there are down here?” Buffy asked with a sigh. She walked over to the nearest of the boxes, wielding her scissors. “And would you look at the dust? I don’t suppose anyone’s opened them for years – decades even. You know, if they haven’t used them, they probably won’t miss them. We could have a bonfire! I like bonfires.”

Spike snorted. “Not a bad idea.” He reached into the box he’d just opened. “Hey! Crowley! A much underestimated raving lunatic. Had a really interesting chat with him in Ceylon.”

“You met Aleistair Crowley? Get out of here!” Buffy gave a snort of disbelief.

“S’true! Met him… oh, must have been ’02…”

“Oh, come on! He’s been dead for years – even I know that!”

“1902.”

Buffy looked over at him open-mouthed. “Nineteen-oh-two? You’re kidding me!”

“What? I don’t look a day over 50?” He opened the book and flicked through the pages. “Crowley was visiting some mate of his in a Buddhist monastery – bloke who founded that order… what’s its name… the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. All big with playin’ with the ancient magicks. Generally hadn’t a bloody clue, though. Anyways, we…” he paused. He and Dru had been meandering back through Asia after the events of the Boxer rebellion had made them crave a little time apart from Angelus and Darla. They had ripped through the village next to the monastery – killed half the population, maimed a good few of the rest and kind of put paid to the monks ‘inner peace’. “We were just passing through. Sort of holiday. Anyways, we got talking. He had some interesting theories. Bright bloke – but the wickedest man alive? Not even close. I could tell you some stories…”

But Buffy was still working on the math. “You were around in 1902? That makes you over 100 years old!”

“What can I say? I’m well preserved. Goes with the whole vampire package.”

“Well, yeah, but… you got through 100 years without meeting up with a slayer? That’s…” she caught Spike’s sudden wince. “Oh, God… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. That was kind of… tactless.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “If you’d met a slayer, you wouldn’t be here now, right? And I’m glad you are because… well, spiders… and besides…” she paused. There was a long silence. He gave her a puzzled smile. “Besides…” she repeated, softly. “I… I’m just…” She blinked and looked away in confusion. ”I’m just... not sure where to start in all of this… which of the boxes, I mean. Do you think there’s any logical order in this chaos?” She had a theory that if she just kept talking, maybe she could get herself back under some sort of control. “I mean, maybe we should start at the top of the piles? What do you think? I’ll look and see if there’s anything written on the boxes.” She began to climb a pile of crates in the corner of the cellar.

“Buffy…” Spike came to stand at the bottom of the pile. “Not sure that’s safe, love.”

“It’s OK. Slayer reflexes and all. Look. This one’s got a date. April 1980. That’s over twenty years ago! If they haven’t looked at it in 20 years…” She reached up to take hold of the box. The pile shifted alarmingly – and moved under her feet. She tried to jump, twisting awkwardly in mid air, as the boxes tumbled around her, disturbed dust flying in a suffocating cloud. As she landed gracelessly, she felt a pair of strong arms catch and steady her. “Hell! Are you OK?” Spike held her upright. She looked into his concerned blue eyes, and time stood still. She was suddenly very aware of her hands resting against him, the texture of the soft, black T-shirt, the feel of the smooth, hard planes of his chest beneath. She looked down, and watched her hands as if in a dream as they moved slowly upwards, to his shoulders and down over the strongly defined muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. "Buffy?" he said softly. She looked up again, her eyes dwelling on the curve of his mouth, the lines of his face, the blue depths of his eyes. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, her skin felt hot, desperate for the coolness of his, her body craving his with an intensity that took her breath away. “Spike…” She felt herself sway toward him.

“Hey, guys are you… Oh. Oops! Sorry!” A highly embarrassed Dawn was standing on the steps down to the basement, biting her lip.

Buffy dropped her hands awkwardly and moved away from Spike. “Dawn! Hi!” She brushed her hair away from her flushed cheeks. “We were just sorting… sorting books and… things…”

“Yeah. I saw.” Dawn grinned. “Look, I’m really, really sorry, but we need help in the training room. It’s Andrew…”

“What’s he done now?” Buffy sighed heavily.

“Well, I don’t think he’s done any permanent damage, but…” Dawn continued doubtfully.

“S’OK. I’ll come and see.” Spike looked over at Buffy. “You’ll be OK on your own for a while?”

“Sure!” Buffy was horribly aware that her voice was suspiciously over bright. “If I find any spiders I’ll just laugh in their hairy little faces and then hide until they go away.”

Spike gave her a slow smile and turned to follow Dawn up the basement steps.

Alone in the basement, Buffy wrapped her arms around herself. Well, that had been… what exactly? Nice? Not precisely. Scary, mind-numbing, stunning, breathtaking - any one of those… actually, she had to admit, all of those. She closed her eyes and relived the moment - the feel of him, the look in his eyes, the way he had completely overwhelmed her senses. Oh, God! She groaned. Way to go, Buffy. Way to pick your men. Vampire. Vampire slayer. Not exactly a match made in heaven.

Not that he would be the first vampire she’d… felt something for. There’s been Angel, after all – and look how well that one had turned out. She smiled ruefully. But then… Spike wasn’t Angel, and she wasn’t sixteen any more, and, well… she had her eyes wide open and… She shook her head and walked over to the box that had been the cause of her downfall. Why was it the guys she felt attracted to - really, really attracted to - were vampires? Except for Jude Law, naturally - although, honestly, who knew? She sighed. Contrary, much?

The box had broken open and its contents were scattered haphazardly around it. She bent down to collect the papers together, then paused. On the top of the pile was a blue, hard-bound book with a simple printed label – “William the Bloody a.k.a. ‘Spike’ – a thesis by Arthur Davies”. Buffy raised her eyebrows. Wow! He had books written about him! She settled herself on a packing case and began to read.

******

Dawn bounced along the corridor at Spike’s side doing a passable imitation of an eager puppy dog. “So, you and Buffy looked cosy!” She grinned. “I mean, almost with the smoochies from where I was standing…”

“It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Well, you had your arms around her and she had her arms around you and there looked to be some kissing action on the cards to me. What was it supposed to look like?”

“She slipped! I caught her is all!” Spike gave an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, yeah. Riiiight.” Dawn’s grin widened. “Oh, c’mon! Getting like old times! We should tell her.”

“No!” Spike stopped and turned to face her. “No. We wait.” He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Look, it’s difficult to explain. It’s just – if she isn’t going to remember…” he held up his hand as Dawn went to object “I said IF she isn’t going to remember, I don’t want her to be told that she used to feel something, when she feels nothing now. Not sure I could deal with that. Maybe if she felt something first…” He frowned. “Does that make any sort of sense?”

“Yeah, I think so. Oh, but she does, Spike, she does feel something…” Dawn looked up at him appealingly. “Look, we should at least tell her about your soul…”

“No. We shouldn’t. What am I going to say, pet? ‘Oh, I just went to bed one night and when I woke up, whatd’ya know? I had me a soul!’?” he shook his head. “Not exactly two-a-penny, us vampires with souls are we? Too complicated. Let’s just keep it simple. Loathe as I am to say it, Giles has half a point. No need to upset things. We wait for Willow.”

Dawn gave a frustrated sigh. “I guess. But she does, you know,” she said softly, “she does feel something for you.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Spike shrugged. “Just not sure what.” He turned away. “Now, what’s the boy been up to?” He started to walk off toward the training room.

Dawn caught him up. “Well, you know April?”

“The little dark girl? The one who wouldn’t say boo to a goose?”

“That’s the one. Well, Andrew was trying to show her some move or other and… well, she’s worried she may have broken something…”

“Broken? Is she OK?”

“Oh, not her! She’s worried she may have broken Andrew…” Dawn opened to the training room door to the sound of whimpering. Andrew was sitting on the floor in a bloodstained gi, head tilted backwards, while a diminutive girl held a cloth to his bleeding nose. Dawn sighed. “See what I mean?”

******

Giles was sitting at a desk in the library when Buffy found him. He looked up with a smile. “Buffy! How is it going in the…” He faltered at the boiling anger he saw in her eyes. “Buffy? What is it?”

“Have you seen this?” Buffy threw the thesis onto the desk in front of him.

Giles looked at the title. “Ah,” he said eventually.

“Ah? Is that the best you can do? Giles, he’s killed slayers. Two slayers. You didn’t think maybe you should be a little concerned?”

“There was no risk. I wouldn’t risk you or the others, you know that.”

“No risk? You let him into our home! You let him get close to… to Dawn and to all of those young slayers…” she felt herself shaking. To me! You let him get close to me! You let me think… feel… you let me… She closed her eyes tightly, fighting for control. “He’s a monster. A killer. Nothing is going to change that. Nothing!” She glared at Giles. “I don’t want him around.”

“Buffy – wait…” Giles stood up as Buffy stalked away across the library.

“Get rid of him. Before I do.” She called back, her voice tight with anger.

You fool! You stupid, idiotic fool! You never – never – learn… In the corridor she stopped and felt her anger fade. Oh, god. How could she have got it so wrong? She closed her eyes tightly against the tears.

******

He’d come into the library by another door. He’d heard it all. Unnoticed in the shadows of the book shelves, Spike watched Buffy leave, then turned and quietly walked away.





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