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[A/N: One of the things I never understood about this show were the plot threads that went dangling, things mentioned that seemed to be incredibly important and then were just dropped. I suppose that’s what happens when you have a stable of alternating writers with such differing views of the characters. Made for interesting moments, but too much of that and you have a mess (or a field day for the fanfiction writers, so I suppose we shouldn’t complain too much). But when the gaps become too much, its just sloppy. And frankly, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could always tell when Joss stepped in and cleaned up someone else’s script. *Sighs* I’d love to work for Joss though, just for a little bit. Title and quotes as attributed, and disclaimers still in full force and effect.]


Previously: Tara is torn about Willow; Buffy and Spike have shared some moments.


22. Serenity is far away


Where did you come from, Baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into the here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
George MacDonald, At the Back of the North Wind

Loneliness is not a phase
Field of pain is where I graze
Serenity is far away
Saw my reflection and cried
So little hope that I died
Feed me your lies, open wide
Weight of my heart, not the size
Layne Staley – Alice in Chains, Angry Chair from the album Dirt



She had that glare in her eyes. The kind when the sunlight was so bright that everything but the sunlight appears in a funny color. But she didn’t care.

Dawn was too intent on the images staring back at her that she ignored everything. Blocked from Tara’s sight by her book were two pictures. The first was a smaller version of the last picture of all the Summers women and the other was of Spike, taken just couple of weeks ago.

She really didn’t look like her mother and she wasn’t sure because she could barely remember what he looked like, but Dawn didn’t think she looked anything like Hank Summers either.

There were similarities though, with Buffy, like the shape of their mouths, their cheekbones and some other things.

Covering the images of Buffy and her mother with the picture of Spike, Dawn gulped. They had the exact same nose, and their eye color was almost identical. Jaw-lines were nearly the same, and, looking closely at him, she’d be willing to bet that their hair was the same color.

She’d taken biology. She knew how babies were made – but she hadn’t ever been a baby. Hadn’t come into the world naturally. Some crazy magical monks had made her.

But what had they used to make her?

She knew they’d taken something of Buffy to help create this body. But she wasn’t exactly like Buffy – which she should have been if they’d only used Buffy. Then she would have been a clone of Buffy – a living, breathing Buffybot, but she wasn’t.

For one thing, she was taller than her sister, for another, she was too different from Buffy. Enough so that the monks had to have ‘borrowed’ something from another source.

Could that other source have been Spike?

As many similarities as there were with her sister, there were at least double that with Spike.

Were they really her parents?


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


He’d gotten up first, needing to get away, to get some perspective on what had happened between them.

And also, because his hard-on was painful.

So with the lame excuse that he needed to shower, Spike slid from the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Stepping into the shower, Spike did the only thing he could, under the circumstances. Sliding his left hand around his erection, he re-lived their night with a few choice alterations.

Release was quick.

Forgetting how he’d spent the night would take lifetimes.


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


Buffy felt better than she had in a very long time. Well, technically, it was only days, but her mind went back to before, before she jumped. Those last months had been horrible. Between her mom being sick and spending time worrying about her, and then Riley leaving after blaming all their problems on her without taking any responsibility for his own actions and Glory. . . God, it was a wonder that she’d been able to sleep or get any rest. It hadn’t gotten any better either, in fact it had just kept getting worse and worse. The last straw came, she remembered, after Glory had taken Dawn and Giles told her that her baby sister had to die in order to close the portal.

She’d barely slept those last weeks, hardly eaten anything either. She’d felt like the walls were closing in on her, and there was no possible escape. They hadn’t had any answers about how to beat Glory, and even when they had come up with a plan, there had been too many variables, anything could have gone wrong. And well, it actually did all go wrong.

She’d had to jump. It had come down to a choice between her and Dawn. Buffy was not going to allow that. She wasn’t going to be willing to live in a world without Dawn.

Instead, she’d made Dawn live in a world without her.

At that moment, standing up on the tower, Buffy had to make a decision. She’d heard Spike clatter up the stairs while she battled Glory, heard him fall over the side, known instinctively that he’d done his best but in the end, it all came down to her. She was the Chosen One. Just like all the other times, it was all down to one person.

Only this time, it wasn’t some impersonal save the world thing – it was save her sister. So she’d done the only thing she could do.

She’d jumped.

In the back of her mind, she’d known somehow that Dawn would be safe. That the scoobies and Giles would look after her. And she knew, too, that despite whatever else he might do, Spike would keep his last promise to her. To protect Dawn to the end of the world.

She’d played on his affections for the both of them, using his feelings to protect her sister. It wasn’t nice, not really, what she’d done, but he’d agreed. What’s more, he’d done it. Kept his promise.

Protected her sister.

How could she deny that his feelings weren’t real? She cringed, remembering how she’d told him vampires couldn’t love. Maybe not all vampires could love, maybe it was just . . . . she didn’t want to go there, thinking about Angel and Darla and Drusilla. Dragging her thoughts to the vampire in the bathroom, Buffy had to admit that Spike was one of a kind. Unique.

He hid his real persona behind the facade of the Big Bad, shielding his true nature from the world, or at least that’s what she was beginning to suspect. Coming back had opened her eyes. Spike had changed since she’d been gone. Changed in ways that she was just discovering, or maybe, he’d been making those changes all along, and she’d only just started noticing.

Either way, it was time to give the vampire some credit.

Maybe it was time to give him those crumbs he’d been looking for from her.


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


Willow had started out with every intention of going to the university library, either that or going to the registrar’s office to get the course catalog for the upcoming semester. What she actually ended up doing was something completely different. Her attention had been snagged by a flyer advertising a free aura picture with a psychic reading. Giggling softly, Willow figured what the heck, and went to see what it was all about.

Putting on her resolve face, Willow mentally steeled herself, blanketing her power. She was gonna have some fun. Would be nice to see if this psychic was the real deal or just another one of those make-believe fake witches. If she was the real deal, she’d be able to spot Willow right away. If not, Willow decided, she was gonna have some fun and show her what a real witch was.


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


He was downstairs watching television. She could hear it from her bedroom. Buffy thought about going down to join him, but really wasn’t sure she wanted to make the effort. It was just easier to do nothing. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she stared down at her hands. The day had started out so good. There’d been no nightmares and she’d finally told Spike about heaven.

So why did she feel like sitting here and crying?

God she hated feeling this way, so weak and scared and just not wanting to move or do anything. But she just didn’t know how to break out of it. Didn’t know if she really wanted to break out of it. She wasn’t moving, it was okay just being here. No disruptions, no loud noises, no one looking for her attention.

So why were the tears falling?

Buffy wiped her eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it didn’t work. The tears kept falling. She was empty. So empty. There shouldn’t be any tears. A great gaping void of grayness filled her, pushing out from the inside against her skin. She felt so fragile, scared, like spun glass, brittle and breakable. She wasn’t the slayer anymore, she wasn’t anything.

Heaven hadn’t wanted her.

Falling down with her head landing heavily on her pillows, Buffy sobbed into the downy softness. She wasn’t wanted. Why would heaven let Willow pull her out? Wasn’t she good enough to stay in heaven? Had she done something wrong? Heaven didn’t want her. No one wanted her. She couldn’t get in enough air. She was choking again, back in the grave, everything closed in on her.

Heaven didn’t want her.

The tears became a torrent, all the more painful because she couldn’t make a sound. Nothing came out. Her throat was closing, panic setting in. No air. She couldn’t get any air. Harsh gasps filled her sunlight room, but Buffy couldn’t see any of that. She was back in that dark place, surrounded by oppressive nothingness.

She felt like her skin would shatter if she moved the wrong way. Shatter like broken glass, spewing pieces all over the room, shards of herself strewn about her house, nothing substantial left. She was nothing. Because heaven had sent her back.

Buffy cried for what she remembered, cried for what she’d had – peace – and for what had been ripped from her. She was not worthy of heaven. But oh, how she wanted nothing better than to go back. Maybe if she did shatter she’d be allowed to return.


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


Some small sound caught his attention. Spike turned the volume down on the television, listening, straining his ears to hear it again. Lifting his eyes to the stairs, he thought he heard it again. The debate with himself lasted about twenty seconds. If it wasn’t her, and she was fine, then he’d live with breaking in on her room. If it was her, then she needed him and nothing else mattered.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Spike was at her door instantly. Hearing nothing he almost went back down to the television when he heard something that set his nerves singing. Knocking once, he opened the door, finding his initial intuition had been correct.

Buffy was curled up on her bed, fist to her mouth, eyes shut tight and tears streaming down her face. She never heard him enter, didn’t react to him opening the door. Caught in the throes of pain and panic, Buffy was unreachable. Hesitating only a second, Spike swept her off the bed and into his arms.

“Ssshhh sweetheart. Its all right.” Words just spilled from his mouth, sounds just to reach the sobbing girl, something to calm her down.

Took a bit, but finally her breathing settled down, and she rested her head against his shoulder. Sniffling loudly, Buffy tried wiping away the tears. Her hand on his opposite shoulder, Buffy hugged him as his arms circled around her.

“Sorry” she mumbled thickly. “Keep doing this.”

“No worries pet. S’ok. I don’t mind.” He tugged her closer, wishing he could do more for her. Seemed like she needed something. “You need to cry then cry.”

“Tired of crying. Wanna stop.” She pouted just a little, which always drove him mad. She had such a cute mouth, but when she pouted like that he just wanted to spend hours nibbling at her lips.

“Well then, what set you off this time?” He was curious what she had been thinking about, what triggered the crying jag this time.

“Heaven didn’t want me.” Fresh tears started flowing, dripping down her cheeks to pool on their arms.

“Oh pet, heaven wanted you. Why wouldn’t it, . . . christ, love, you’re the bloody Chosen One, course heaven wanted you.” One hand held her head against his shoulder, while the other rubbed up and down her hip.

“No. No . . heaven didn’t want me. Riley didn’t . . no one wanted me. No one wants me.” Her voice was broken up with hiccuping breaths, but Spike understood what she was saying.

“Hey, s’not true. Git was just too bloody stupid to realize what a treasure he had.” He was afraid he was going to go to far, scare her off, but he couldn’t sit here and let her believe that she wasn’t wanted. “God, pet, do you have any idea? I want you. Want you all the time. Always.”

She half-sobbed half-huffed her disbelief. “Can’t. I’m horrible. Bad. No good.”

“Oh fucking hell. Pet, you are the best person I’ve ever met. You . . . you’re a bloody star, you are. And yeah” he said, laughing at himself, “oh yeah, I want you, snotty nose and all.”

Buffy batted at his chest halfheartedly. “Stop. I’m all messy and . . . “

He reached up to brush the tears from her face, his hand cool against her flushed skin, stopping her words. His touch was gentle, calming her even further. Whispering to her, his voice a low rumble in his chest vibrating against her arm, Spike said “want you so much.”

A bolt of electricity went through her hearing his words. Buffy stared at him, disbelief warring with some other emotion in her eyes. His thumb brushed across her mouth, soft as air, followed by his lips. Buffy shivered, which traveled from her body to his. Spike drew back, looking intently into her eyes. He started to speak then changed his mind, instead, settling his mouth on hers.

Growling low in his throat, Spike hauled her around, so that she was straddling him. Breaking off the kiss, he ground out “feel it? Can you feel how much . . . “ his voice got even deeper, resonating within her “god pet, ‘ve no idea. J’st the thought of you . . . “

Her eyes met his, wide and green and filled with water, unspoken questions pooling together with the unshed tears.

“God, sunshine, can’t you . . . “ his voice was a harsh whisper between them, intense and low, filled with emotion. His want, his need, his craving for her was a physical presence between them, hard and pulsing beneath her. Spike held her tight, not hiding his response to her nearness. Running his hand down her hair, he pulled her toward his chest. “Can’t make m’heart beat, but it would be pounding right about now.”

Half expecting her to pull away from him in horror and disgust, Spike held on, unwilling to let her go if she did pull back. Instead, she shocked the hell out of him by twining her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. His muscles twitched, tensing as he held her, as he tried to still his urge to lay her down on the bed and show her exactly how much he wanted her. Unable to control himself completely, Spike began placing little kisses from her shoulder to her neck, growling a little with each touch.

She shivered, his kisses raising gooseflesh all over. Buffy closed her eyes and just drowned in the sensations assaulting her. His strong arms around her, the softness of his lips on her neck, the depth of his murmurs reverberating in her chest and the tense hardness beneath her. This was good. This was better than good. Smiling just a little, Buffy breathed against his ear “crumbs”.

It took him a moment, focused as he was on the scent and taste of her skin, before her whisper registered in his brain. Crumbs? She said crumbs . . . What the bleeding hell was she on about? Crumbs. . . bloody silly . . . oh fucking hell. Their conversation from months ago finally replayed itself in his fuddled brain. Crumbs . . . crumbs! She’s giving me crumbs.

Absofuckinglutely unbelievable.





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