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[A/N: There were moments, during the show’s run, when I wanted to throw something at the screen because the writers had lost the plot. There were even more moments when I sat there in stunned disbelief and said to myself “I so could have done that better” (usually they were preceded by me throwing things at the screen). I never quite understood why the writers brought Buffy back and immediately had her fighting (um, hello?) nor did I understand how she could stand all the noise and stuff, she’d been dead, so everything about life would have been loud and harsh and just not good. Anyway, that’s why I’m trying to address the story in my own way. I’m enjoying it, I have no idea if anyone else is (except for the reviews, THANK YOU ALL!!) But I digress, and no one wants to hear me rant about the show and what happened when Joss let go the reins and gave over the day to day writing to Marti. *Focuses on the story* Right, so . . . title is from one of my favorite Fleetwood Mac tunes, but really is a Lindsay Buckingham number. It’s a gorgeous song and even prettier when its sung by both Lindsay and Stevie Nicks. Quotes as attributed, disclaimers still in full force and effect.]

21. Crystalline knowledge of you

Do you always trust your first initial feeling?
Special knowledge holds true
Bears believing
Lindsay Buckingham, Crystal

It gives me wonder great as my content
to see you here before me.
Anonymous

I have spread my dreams under your feet;
tread softly because you tread on my dreams
William Butler Yeats, Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Langston Hughes, Dreams


They must have shifted in the early morning hours, curled together in sleep. Spike woke slowly, warmed by her body pressed tight against him. She was still sleeping softly, her breath slow and steady against his bare chest. Her mouth was open and a tiny bit of drool pooled beneath her cheek. Their arms were still wrapped around each other, hers resting up and around his neck, his tight across the small of her back. One of her legs was wedged between both of his, curled around the one that was closest to the mattress.

He’d never been this warm, not since turning. Trying to gauge the time, Spike looked toward the window. Judging by the color of the sky, it was still early yet. Enough time to go back to sleep. Sighing in complete and utter content, Spike closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.


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Dawn and Tara woke up at the same time, making their way down to the kitchen. Neither girl spoke about why Tara had been leaving her bedroom in the early morning hours. Dawn didn’t know what to make of it, so in her confusion said nothing, and Tara was just so very hurt by Willow’s actions that she wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. There wasn’t anyone that she was close enough to, to confide in. All the scoobies were Willow’s friends first, so that left them out. Buffy wasn’t really in any position to help anyone. Poor girl had enough to deal with. And this wasn’t the kind of thing you just dumped on a fifteen year old’s shoulders. Dawnie was great, but this was something she couldn’t talk about with her.

That left Anya or Xander. Neither one of whom she expected would be sympathetic to her problems. Unless. Tara thought maybe, if she could get him to sit still, Spike would listen to her, and actually have some sort of idea about what she should do. Tara realized she wasn’t really looking for advice, but more of a sounding board. Someone to just listen and let her talk without interrupting.

Going through the motions of getting breakfast ready, Tara came to a decision. Soon as she could, she was going to talk to Spike and then she was going to spend some time away from this house, doing stuff that she liked to do. Like sitting in the park and writing poetry. Or maybe, Dawnie might want to go to the beach.

“Dawn? Have you got plans for today?” Tara asked quietly while searching the refrigerator for something to eat.

“Um, no, nothing really. Janice is away and Kirsten has to babysit her new brother. So, no, I’m footloose.” Snagging a banana and a bowl, Dawn sat down to cereal goodness. “Why you got something in mind?”

“Yeah, you wanna head to the beach?”

“Ooooohhh yeah. How we gonna get there?” Dawn asked around a mouthful of crunchy bananas and milk.

“Maybe I’ll ask Spike if we can use the DeSoto.” Tara giggled at the expression on Dawn’s face, knowing they would never ask the vampire for that. “I dunno, sweetie, maybe we should just take the bus.”

“Cool. Road trip.”


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Not too long after Spike woke, Buffy shifted in her sleep, swimming toward wakefulness. This was comfy. Nice. She didn’t want to move. Her arms curled tighter around the pillow she had cradled under her head, snuggling in closer. When she met resistance, Buffy opened her eyes.

Oh. No pillow. The normally cool alabaster skin beneath her had absorbed her extra heat, drawing it down. She was curled almost on top of Spike. Buffy closed her eyes. Everything came flooding back, their quiet bonding over ice cream after he’d come back from patrol, and then his reaction when he’d told her about where she’d been.

She thought she should be uncomfortable, embarrassed and disgusted with herself. How stupid was it to curl up in the arms of the undead? Especially this particular undead. Backtracking a moment, Buffy thought about the things she’d been thinking about last night. How safe she felt, how comfortable being with Spike was, how easy it was, when he wasn’t being a jerk.

Instead of moving away from him, Buffy settled in closer. ‘Where do the strong go when they need to be weak’ echoed in her head.’ Resting her head again on his chest, she thought that if she pretended to sleep, maybe he wouldn’t ever move. This was . . . she closed her eyes . . . this was nice. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to worry about anything.

Abruptly she realized that she hadn’t woken up screaming – hadn’t even had a hint of a nightmare. Every time she’d gotten restless, he’d been there to soothe her, holding her close. Another revelation. At this rate, she huffed, she was going to have to completely re-think every thing about him.

She remembered the kiss. Oh boy, did she remember the kiss. Best goodnight kiss she’d ever gotten too. It was obvious too, that he’d wanted her. Hard to pretend something that um, big and hard wasn’t there. Giggling softly at her own really bad pun, Buffy hummed into his chest. This was the first morning she’d woken up since her return in a good mood.

It was all his fault. Him and his strong arms and his stupid hair and his . . . Buffy gave up. She couldn’t fight it. She actually, actively liked Spike. As in liked.

And, since she was in an introspective mood, Buffy was forced to admit to herself that this was another thing that had been building for a while. Maybe not so much years like the safety thing, but, at least since he’d taken the beating from Glory and protected her sister.

That moment, despite the idiocy of the Buffybot, had totally changed her view of him. He’d been so broken and battered that she’d had no choice but to reassess her thoughts. And to get up and face Glory again, willingly, without complaint, just because she asked him too. Well. She didn’t think Angel would have done it – he probably would have cautioned her about something, then slunk off in a huff when she didn’t do as he wanted. And Riley never would have survived the beating Spike took, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have faced Glory again.


For all his lack of stature and his lean build, Spike was the toughest guy she’d ever met. He was like the energizer bunny, always going, never dying. Buffy raised her head away from his chest, looking down at his still features.

Oh yeah, not to mention his angelic face. Hah. What a front that was. She wondered just how many unsuspecting girls had followed him because he was cute and sexy and deceptively innocent looking, only to find that they’d unchained a demon. Well, thanks to Maggie Walsh and her not-so-merry band of soldiers, Spike could no longer use his face as a lure for unsuspecting girls. For once, Buffy was grateful for the deranged policies of that fanatical she-bitch. If it hadn’t been for The Initiative, Buffy would never have been able to jump and know that her sister would be safe.

Holding back a tear, she watched him sleep. He’d stayed. She was dead and he’d stayed to look after her sister. He’d done the one thing no other man in her life had ever done.

He hadn’t left.

Brushing a kiss against his chin, she laid her head back down on his chest and, hugging him tight, closed her eyes and said a silent thanks to him.


******************************* *******************************


When Willow woke up, the house was silent and still. Wandering down to the kitchen she found a note from Tara and Dawn taped to the refrigerator advising everyone else that they’d gone to the beach and would be back sometime later in the afternoon. It was barely eleven, and while she wasn’t really happy about where they’d gone, Willow had no desire to follow them to the beach.

She figured she could head over to UC Sunnydale and see what was on the course calendar for the next semester, since registration was only a couple of days away. At least she would be out doing something she liked to do.

Not wasting much time and not bothering to check if anyone else was still home, Willow got dressed and left for the college.


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It was the slamming of the front door that woke them both up at the same time. Startled awake, Spike’s arms tightened painfully around Buffy and she yelped sleepily. Muttering a sheepish “sorry” under his breath, Spike moved to extract himself from her embrace before she woke up completely. Instead of adjusting to give him room to get away, Buffy found herself holding him closer, reluctant to let the vampire go.

“Morning” was all she said, still holding him tight.

A raised brow greeted her statement and he mumbled a “morning sunshine” right back at her.

“Did you get enough sleep?” Buffy smiled at him.

The absurdity of their conversation made him smile broadly. This was just so domestic of them. “Fine love, how ‘bout you?”

She giggled at him and his expression. Before she could answer him, he spoke again “you sure you’re okay kitten?”

“No bad dreams last night.” Her smile was real and bright.

Ahh. . . so that was what it was. No nightmares. Well, that was a step in the right direction. “So it was a good night then.”

“Ahuh. Thanks to you.” She couldn’t resist. Had to tell him somehow that last night had been. . . . important to her.

Oh she was radiant. Like sunshine, like starlight, like everything he’d missed for years. The words slipped from his mouth before he had time to censor his thoughts. “God you are beautiful pet. Sight to see.”

She tried to be flip, tried to make him smile, but the serious look that suddenly came over his face made it impossible. “Spike” was all she was able to say before his finger across her lips silenced her.

“Ssshhhh, don’t say anything. Don’t wanna spoil this.” Of their own volition, his fingers curled around her cheek, cupping the side of her face. She leaned into his hand, rubbing against his strong fingers.

“Just wanted to say thank you. For everything.” She stilled, holding herself close against him.

“Buffy, I . . . I’m so sorry, baby.” His heart was in his eyes, trying to convey to her what he meant.

“Sorry? Why?” Their voices were nothing more than whispers, carrying no further than the circle of their arms. She was perplexed by his statement, wondering what he was sorry for, since he’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

“For what happened, what Red did, pet. Pulling you from heaven.” His hand ran down her arm, from shoulder to elbow, absently stroking her.

“Wasn’t you. You don’t need to be sorry about that.” She rested her chin against his chest, completely comfortable. “Not your fault.”

“I know that kitten, but it wasn’t right anyway. Should’ve left you alone.” His face reflected a flash of anger but Buffy realized it wasn’t directed at her at all.

All at once she grew serious. “Spike, promise me something?”

“What’s that?” He braced himself to hear, ‘don’t let this happen again’ or ‘don’t come to my room anymore’ or any number of things she could make him promise.

“Please don’t say anything to anyone about where I’ve been.” He hadn’t expected that at all. He started to protest, but Buffy stalled him, “it would hurt too much. Dawnie and Tara. They . . . don’t want, either of them to know.”

“You should tell them.” He disagreed with her, but he had a feeling this was the first of many arguments he was going to lose to her. At least it wasn’t what he’d anticipated, her giving him the boot but good.

“No, I don’t want anyone to know.” Shaking her head, he could see that she was adamant about this.

“You told me.” Was his only counter-argument.

At that, she thumped him. “You’re different. You . . . you’re just different.”

“Right, coz ’m me. C’mon goldilocks, you know you should tell, at least tell the Niblet.” He didn’t want to let this go, something was telling him to push the issue.

“I’m serious. No telling.” Thumping him again, Buffy pinched his arm.

“Oi, woman, leave off. All right. Won’t say a bloody word.”

Once again she struck him speechless when she dropped a quick kiss on his chest, saying “thanks Spike.”

Bloody hell. She was gonna kill him. Wrapping his arms around her, he exhaled deeply, trying hard to suppress feelings that she wasn’t really ready to face.


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Sitting on the beach with Dawn, Tara came to the realization that she didn’t want to go back to the house and face Willow. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see Willow at all. She could maybe forgive one of the things that had been done, but all of it? Tara wasn’t so sure that would be possible. Maybe, if Willow had said she was sorry, or apologized or even acted like she was aware everyone was upset with her, she might be feeling a little more open to forgiving her, but there was none of that.

No remorse, no regret and absolutely no admittance that something was wrong.

On the other hand, Tara wasn’t really sure she was ready to just walk away from their relationship. She thought she still loved Willow, so she owed it to them to try and make things work.

Looking over at Dawn, who was absorbed in her book, Tara wondered what would happen to the girl if she had to move out.


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Dawn felt Tara’s eyes on her. She wasn’t really reading, but she didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing, not even Tara, so she shifted away a bit, rolling over onto her back, the book up in the air in front of her.

It was a picture she was studying. Well, two pictures.





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