CHAPTER THREE:

Breakfast was a subdued affair the following morning for the three women of the house, but at the back of their minds was the fact that Dawn was safe and Spike had stopped an apocalypse. No mean feat, vampire or not.

With that on Spike's résumé, it wasn't that much of a surprise for Joyce, on entering her room later that day, to find Buffy keeping a silent vigil. The Slayer had pulled a chair up near the bed so she could keep watch over the broken vamp and Dawn, who was, yet again, curled up and dozing next to Spike. Dawn hadn't slept well the previous night, so Joyce was content to leave her as she was.

Spotting Spike's duster, which had been laid over the back of the chair in front of her vanity table, Joyce emptied the pockets onto the bedside table then took it downstairs to hang up . Just as she got to the coat rack in the foyer, the front doorbell rang. She quickly hung Spike's coat up with the others and answered the door. The postman greeted her with a letter that required a signature as record of delivery. Joyce promptly signed for it and returned to her room with the envelope, having recognized the handwriting on the front as Spike's elegant, old-fashioned script.

Sitting next to the bed, Buffy was struggling to get her mind around everything that had taken place over the last twenty-four hours with regards to Spike and herself. The physical pain and damage he had suffered because of her and her family was enormous. She knew he would brush it off as inconsequential due to his being a vampire, but it still tore at her conscience. No matter how she tilted, spun or skewed the arguments, there was no doubt that Spike had saved her sister's life. In the process he had endured horrible injuries on two separate occasions, just to make sure that Buffy, Dawn and joyce were protected and spared any pain.

Buffy's mind drifted back in time a moment, thinking of Angel and how he'd left to supposedly spare her pain and suffering. She swallowed hard, her eyes refocusing on the broken and bruised vamp lying in front of her. Spike had stayed and used himself as a shield against the emotional and physical pain of this latest confrontation. How different could two men...two vampires be? It was just as she fully grasped this distinction that she heard a sudden gasp from her mother, who had returned unnoticed from downstairs.

“Mom? What is it?”

The hand in which Joyce held the letter was trembling. When her mother raised her head and met Buffy's worried gaze, her eyes were filled with tears.

“Mom? You're scaring me. What is it? Tell me.” Buffy had gotten to her feet and had approached Joyce when she didn't get an answer. She was stopped in her tracks as her mother's face lit up into a bright, shining, tear-streaked smile.

“He...he...oh, Buffy, read it.” Joyce held the letter out to her, but her eyes never wavered from the blond man currently occupying her bed.

Buffy took the letter and began to read:

Dear Joyce,

You'll have to bear with me, pet, but there's a lot going on at the moment so I’ve snuck down into the basement of the magic shop to get a couple of minutes alone.

We've got a little while before we're off to try and get the niblet back, and there are some things that need to be said.

First off, we're getting Dawn back and she's going to be fine. This I promise, no arguments.

Secondly, Buffy's going to be fine too. This I promise as well. Even if I have to dust to make it happen, you're gonna have your two babies home.

This brings me to number three. There's a bank account under my name that I set up about a month ago, once I’d found someone who was friendly to demon finances to help. It's got everything that was made when my inheritance from my human family was sold off. We weren't all that wealthy, but we had a fair amount of land and property in Berkshire, and a comfortable London house, all of which became mine. It's been sitting in a bank account for the last 120 years in England. I had it transferred over here and converted into dollars, so there should be enough in there to comfortably set you, Dawn and Buffy up for life.

In case you haven't already guessed, I’m not planning on making it through tonight. Better for me to kick it than Buffy or Dawn, but I do need one thing from you. Please tell Dawn that I’m sorry, but this was the way it had to be. Make sure she knows it's not her fault...don't ever let her blame herself; it's my choice. And tell Buffy...Well tell Buffy I’m sorry I couldn't be who she wanted me to be, but that she was everything I could have ever wanted. Whether she believes me or not... I do love her.

Right then, last bit of info, better get this done before I start crying like a wanker and the bloody ink runs! When you go to the bank, ask for a man named Simon Dean, head of accounts. Tell him your name and inform him you would like to transfer the money from William Pratt's account to yours. He'll ask you for two pieces of information. The first thing he'll want is a certain name, to which you tell him: Buffy Anne Summers. The second will be a date, to which you tell him: 19th January 1981, Buffy's birthday. With that, the money should be in your account within twenty-four hours....Consider it a thank you for always giving me a chance, and seeing the man behind the monster.

Don't know if it'll mean much after tonight, but you've been the closest thing I’ve had to a mum in 120 years, Joyce, and for that I thank you.

Take care of Buffy and Dawn and take care of yourself as well.

~Spike

Buffy finished reading and looked up at her mother. She tried to speak, but nothing would come. She tried again, still nothing; she couldn't force the words past the tightness in her throat. Buffy could only watch silently as her mother moved past her and placed a light kiss on the forehead of the broken man that had provided so much, had done so much for her family.

As she straightened up, Joyce turned back to her daughter and, seeing the tears about to spill down her face, opened her arms and pulled a sobbing Buffy into her embrace.

“Oh, God, Mom! He...thought he...was gonna...die, he...really...thought...he should...die...for...me...for...us.

“Ssshhhh. Buffy, honey, it's OK. He's here, you're here, Dawn's here. Everything's gonna be OK.”

Buffy was shaking her head, still quietly sobbing so as not to disturb Dawn. “It's not OK, Mom. He was gonna die for me and then set us up for life, and all this after the way I treated him. What's wrong with him?! What's wrong with me?!

“I find a man who can act like this, sacrifice so much for me, love me in spite of all kinds of shit I throw in his face, and he doesn't walk away. How could I have been so stupid and cruel? God, Mom! I hurt him. I used to hurt him on purpose just for that brief flash of pain in his eyes, and regard that as a trophy! But he still loves me!”

Buffy pulled away from her mother and started pacing angrily back and forth at the end of the bed. “Fucking Angel!”

“Buffy, language!”

Buffy stopped pacing and turned to look at her mother. “Sorry, Mom, but it's true! If he hadn't brainwashed me into all that crap about demons not being able to love without a soul, then who knows what might've happened between me and Spike. Because Angel couldn't love without a soul, I believed Spike couldn't either. Look at how much he's had to fight and sacrifice because of that. Hello! I thought having someone love you was a good thing, but because of Angel and his bullshit-”

“Buffy!” Joyce admonished again.

“I totally believed that whatever Spike thought he felt had to be destroyed. Because of Angel I hurt and abused a good man whose only crime was falling in love with me!”

“Finally figured it out, huh?”

Buffy spun and found herself looking at a grinning and very awake Dawn, still cuddled into Spike's left side.

“Took you long enough. And, while we're pointing out flaws in Buffy's and Angel's world views, did you ever stop to consider the fact that Spike didn't ask for this? Do you honestly think, of all the women on the planet that Spike could've fallen in love with he would have chosen you!? I don't...no way.”

Dawn's grin became even wider when she saw the sheepish expression on her sister's face. “So, now that you've figured that out, you gonna stop being a royal bitch to him?”

“DAWN SUMMERS! LANGUAGE, YOUNG LADY!”

“Sorry, Mom, but she is, and I want it to stop. Spike's my friend and I want a little respect for him” Dawn turned to look at Buffy, holding her gaze.”OK?” she asked with a little hint of aggression in her tone. Dawn was surprised when Buffy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, clearly abashed.

“Yeah, you're right Dawnie,” Buffy conceded. “He does deserve my... respect. I’m sorry... I really am.

“While you're awake, there's something else we need to talk about, though. Mom got a letter this morning...”