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“Too late?” Buffy fanned the smoke, trying hard to see Spike’s face. “Giles? Xander? Are they-“



She heard loud coughing coming from the living room and craned her neck to see. Relief flooded through her when she saw two silhouettes appear in the doorway. Her mother got to her feet and turned the kitchen light on and Buffy latched onto Spike as he lifted her and sat her in one of the kitchen chairs. Bathed in the light, Xander and Giles both looked as if they had been hit with a car. One side of Xander’s face was bloody from a gash in his forehead and Giles had a nosebleed and purple bruises along one side of his jaw.



Clearing her throat, Buffy glanced at her friend. “Xander, are you okay?”



“I’ll be fine.” He took the icepack that Joyce held out to him and allowed the woman to mop at the blood with a towel. “For about thirty more minutes. After I call Anya and let her know what’s happened, she will kill me.”



“Why?” Buffy cringed along with him as her mother checked his head.



“It’s fine.” Xander held a hand up to Joyce, then looked at Buffy. “We had a ten a.m. picture taking session in the morning.”



“I’m sorry.” She bit her lip and looked at Giles, who was massaging his forehead with his fingertips. “I’m sorry, Giles.”



Giles glanced at her, squinting to see her clearly since his glasses had been broken in the fight. “It’s fine, Buffy. It wasn’t your fault.”



Spike spoke up for the first time. “It was mine.” He had been leaning against the island in the middle of the room, watching the others, and as he spoke, he headed toward the basement door. “They must have seen us at the shopping mall and followed us here.”



“Spike.” Buffy watched him open the door and take a step inside. “Where are you going?”



He stopped walking and sighed. “It’s me they want. As long as I’m here, they’ll keep coming.”



“You said you would help me,” she quietly pointed out.



Spike turned on his heel and came back into the kitchen. “Did you see what they did to your house?" He shouted at her, leaning over her. He pointed to Xander and Giles. "And what about your friends? They're lucky to be alive, no thanks to me.”



Xander stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, mumbling something about calling Anya.



“They want me too!" She yelled back at him. "It’s not just about you and you said you would help me! You gave me your word!”



Spike pushed away from the table and looked away. “I’m a vampire, my word doesn’t count for much.”



Giles leaned against back in his chair and watched as the vampire headed back toward the basement. He noticed Spike's closed off expression and cleared his throat." “I have something to say.”



Buffy looked at the floor, trying to focus on the linoleum through her tear filled eyes. Spike stood in the doorway of the basement, his jaw clenched tightly as he waited for the man to speak.



Taking a deep breath, Giles collected his thoughts and said, “This was no one’s fault. The threat of these vampires finding out Spike's whereabouts was always there. This rather unfortunate occurrence has not changed the fact that Buffy still needs to be cared for and Spike still needs a place to stay.”



“I can’t stay here,” Spike growled, his face masking into that of the demon inside of him. “Just because they have to be invited in doesn’t mean I’m safe." He pointed at Buffy and Joyce and shook his head. "It doesn’t mean that they are safe. They will come back and who knows what they will do next.”



“They’ll come back with you gone, too. What would we have done if you weren’t here tonight, Spike?” Joyce asked. She knew her daughter well and she knew that Buffy *needed* him to stay. The change in her in just the past few days was remarkable.



“You would have gone to bed without almost being burned alive.” Spike forced the demon away and walked back into the kitchen. “There is nothing we can do. They know where I am. Unless I leave-“



“Fine! Just leave! Go! Everyone always does!” Buffy shouted and pressed her palms down on the table, almost as if she had forgotten she was paralyzed and was going to push herself up. Her hands made contact with the wood and she hissed in pain, snatching them away and examining her flesh. Both palms had cuts in them, but her left one had a piece of glass wedged just below the skin.



Spike beat Joyce to where Buffy was sitting and took one of her hands in his. “You’re hurt.”



Buffy snatched her hand away. “You don’t work here anymore.”



“Just let me see it.” He reached for her hand again, only to have her glare at him.



“I’d tell you to bite me, but you can’t.” She squared her shoulders and stared the blond vampire in the eye. “And, Giles, I want you to perform that uninvite spell on Spike. If he wants out, he's out for good.”



Giles’ eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “Of course! That’s it! A spell!”



Xander came back into the room with the ice on his head. He moved aside as Giles rushed past him and grabbed the phone, then he turned to speak to Joyce. “Uhm, Ms. Summers, I can’t find Anya and my mom won’t come and get me, even though I told her I’m practically comatose. Could you maybe give me a ride home? I’d ask Giles, but those vampires took out their frustration on his car as they ran away.”



Joyce nodded. “Of course.”



“Mom!” Buffy held up her hands. “Could you help me first?”



“I’ve got it,” Spike told Joyce. “You get him home.”



Buffy watched her mother walk away and then glared at Spike. “You aren’t touching me with a ten foot pole.”



He smirked at her, turned as if he was going to walk away, and then spun and lifted her from her seat before she even realized it. Without the use of her lower limbs, all she could do was punch him, but after two attempts, she stopped and settled for scowling at him as he walked up the stairs. Spike took her into her bedroom and sat her on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”



“Thanks for the warning," she called after him. The second he disappeared around the corner, she broke down. It would be unbearable without him there every day. Since he had mentioned leaving in the kitchen, she'd had a dull ache in her chest. It wasn’t logical, it wasn’t wise, but she needed him. He had to stay.



Spike took the first aid kit from under the sink and waited for a small basin to fill with warm water. He glanced at where his reflection should have been in the mirror and slumped against the sink. The prospect of leaving after he had made so much headway with Buffy would have been unthinkable if the circumstances were different. He felt at home here and he had not felt that in ages. And he was a fool to let himself believe that he would ever fit into her world.



The basin overflowed and he dropped a towel onto the floor, then made his way back to her room. She was still in the same position, with her hands cradled in her lap, but her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. He pulled a chair from under her vanity, sat before her, and put the bowl in his lap. Saying nothing, he took the hand with the glass still in it and dipped it into the water.



Buffy watched as he used a pair of tweezers to work the glass free. Fresh blood flowed and she groaned when he pressed his finger against the small hole. It didn’t hurt badly, but the contact of his cool flesh against hers reminded her that this could be the last time he touched her at all. Another sob caught in her throat and she didn’t even bother to choke it back.



“I don’t mean to hurt you.” He glanced up at her, then back at her hand, loosening the pressure he was applying.



“Then don’t go.” She put her free hand in the bowl on top of his. “Please?”



Spike put the tweezers on the night table and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You’ll be fine. Your mum will get someone else.”



“I won’t be fine. I can’t do anything! I couldn’t even help Giles and Xander!” She took a deep breath. “I want *you*!”



“Buffy, anything that I can do for you can be done by someone else.”



“No.” Her voice cracked again. “Aren’t you listening to me? I. Want. You.”



Spike felt her thumb on the back of his hand, massaging small circles, and he glanced down at it. Surely she couldn’t mean that in the literal sense. She was saying that she wanted him to stay, not that she wanted him. He felt her take the towel he had draped over his shoulder and then her hand was on his cheek.



“Look at me, Spike,” she whispered.



He raised his head and she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his lightly. For a split second, he was too stunned to react. She leaned closer, running her hand up his shoulder and behind his neck, increasing her pressure. Spike relaxed against her and opened his mouth, letting her tongue dance across his as he inhaled the sweetness of her skin.



Buffy heard footsteps on the stairs and pulled back, coloring slightly when she realized how bold she had been. Spike sat upright, and busied himself with washing off the last of the blood, as Giles stepped into the room. He dried Buffy's hand absently and pretended to study the wound, anxious to do anything other than make eye contact with her.



“I have wonderful news.” Giles smiled proudly. “Tara and Willow are on their way to do a hallowing spell. We’re going to put a ward on the house and make it impossible for any demons to step into the yard without an invitation.”



“Can demons be in the house?” Buffy glanced at Spike shyly, then back at Giles. “I mean, can Spike stay?”



“Yes, his invitation will stand as long as he is inside when the spell is performed.” Glancing over Spike’s shoulder, he watched as the vampire carefully applied ointment to the cuts and began wrapping the wounds on her hands. “Buffy, are you okay?”



“I’m fine. Just a few scratches,” she replied with a shrug. “You should go make sure that mom gets in the house okay. I don’t want her outside alone when she gets back.”



“Right you are. I'll go watch for her.” Giles turned quickly and retreated down the stairs.



Spike secured a final piece of tape on her hands and wiped his own with the towel. A million different thoughts ran through his head, none of them making any sense. She had *kissed* him. Not a thank you kiss, not a friendly kiss, but a kiss full of passion and heat. His lips were still numb from it, but his mind was racing.



“Spike?” Her eyes searched his face, silently begging him to relent. “Will you stay?”



Standing, he glanced down at her, trying to weigh his options. Outside this house he faced the threat of his own kind, but inside he faced the threat of the Slayer, a vampire’s worst enemy. In her given state, she couldn’t do much damage to him physically, but mentally, she could destroy him. She was reaching out to him because he was the closest thing she had to reach for and if he allowed her to do that, she would wind up resenting him for it. No, he had to leave. Leave the house, leave the town, leave *her* before it was too late.



“Please don’t say no,” Buffy pleaded.



He let his gaze wash over her face, taking in her pouty lips, her trembling chin, and finally locking on her clear green eyes.



It was too late.







Buffy awoke the next morning to the sound of a saw and hammering. She glanced at the clock and sighed, wondering why anyone would be using power tools at such an ungodly hour. Then she remembered everything: the damage to her house, the vampires attacking Giles and Xander, and most of all, the kiss she had given Spike. He had reciprocated, she was sure of that, but he had walked out of her room without even saying a word afterward and she had cried herself to sleep.



She had been wrong to assume that he would welcome her advances. She was crippled, unattractive, and capricious. He had every right to just walk out on her. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if someone came up and told her that he had packed his things and gone during the night. That thought caused another wave of panic and she sat up. “Mom!”



Willow, who was at the foot of the stairs watching Giles and Xander tear down the wall that had been burned, heard Buffy calling and walked up the stairs. She rapped twice on her friend’s door, then stuck her head in. “Hey, Buffy. Sorry about all the noise downstairs.”



“It’s fine. Is Spike still here?” Buffy asked casually.



“Yeah, but he’s down in the basement helping your mom get some paint and stuff ready for the walls. Ooh, good news -- it didn’t mess the floor up much. Of course, your mom will have to get new carpet, but the wood wasn’t really damaged. Just the wall.” Willow took a much needed gulp of air. “And we did the spell at dawn and tested to see if we could throw something into the house.”



Buffy digested everything Willow had said. “And could you?”



“Nope. To coin that lady in Poltergeist, which Tara and I were watching last night, ‘this house is clear’. Nothing’s gonna hurt you guys.” Willow bowed dramatically, hoping to draw a laugh from Buffy. When she heard no laughter, she stood back up and glanced at Buffy, who was fingering her cover. “Hey, are you okay?”



“Yeah, just tired.” The slayer ran a hand through her hair and then glanced down at her clothing. “Ugh, could you maybe go and help Spike maybe so my mom can help me into the tub?”



“Sure,” Willow replied and headed toward the door, pausing before she was in the hallway. “Hey, are you hungry? I brought donuts, just like I used to in high school when we were doing research.”



Buffy’s stomach rolled and her heart ached at the memory of bounding through the double doors of the library and seeing her friends with their noses buried in thick books. “No, thank you." She shook her head. "I don’t want anything.”



Willow shrugged and headed back down the stairs and into the basement. Spike and Joyce were both digging through boxes and she cleared her throat. “Ms. Summers, Buffy wants to know if I can take over here and you would come help her with a bath.”



“Oh, sure.” Joyce glanced at Spike. “The paintbrushes are brand new and I’m fairly certain that they are in one of these boxes on bottom.” She indicated a row of boxes underneath a set of shelves.



“I’ll keep looking.” Spike nodded and continued his search through the box in front of him.



Willow joined him and rifled through the box that Joyce had been going through. She watched Spike out of the corner of her eye as he put his box on the floor and grabbed another one. “So, Spike, how’s it going here? Are you and Buffy getting along?”



Too well, he started to reply. Instead, he shrugged and tried to look indifferent. “We lock horns occasionally, but for the most part, things are okay.”



“Is she eating and stuff?” Willow pushed her hair away from her face and pretended to be engrossed in looking for paintbrushes. She was trying to segue into asking if Buffy was acting weird at all. The rose that she had us ed to do the spell with Tara was still in full bloom and it had not even been put into any water.



“She eats like a bird, but you can tell that just by looking at her.” Finding nothing, Spike swore and grabbed another box.



Willow spotted the paintbrushes in the bottom of her box, but continued to move the contents around. “How is she acting? Is she treating her mom any better? I mean, is she more agreeable?”



Spike stopped what he was doing and stared at the wall opposite them, wondering if she was getting at what he thought. “Does this game of twenty questions have anything to do with the fact that you did *another* spell?”



“Ooh! Found them!” Willow yanked the brushes from the box and waved them triumphantly. “I’ll just take them to Joyce.”



“She doesn’t need them yet.” Spike caught the red-head by the arm as she started up the stairs. “I need to know what you did to her.” He silently added, because she kissed me last night and it made me weak in the knees, but I knew there was something more to it.



With a small sigh, Willow sat down on the stairs and looked up at him. “I was worried about the fact that she wasn’t resolving the issues she has. She wasn’t facing her paralysis and stuff and I opened her mind.”



“Opened her mind?” Raising an eyebrow, Spike crossed his arms. “Is that it?”



“Well, no.” Willow felt herself blushing and glanced down at her shoes. “I got a little confused with the wording and got her heart involved.”



“I’m not following,” he said, his eyes narrowing.



“Well, wh-what Tara said is that if the spell worked at all, Buffy will have the strength to confront her fears and admit the truth to herself. She can admit what’s in her heart, but we don’t know that it worked.” She remembered the rose and frowned suddenly. “Only I think it did.”



“Bloody hell!” Spike wagged his finger in her direction. “The next time you want to do a spell, do something that doesn’t involve your friends. Because as much as I am loathe to admit it, what happens to people around here happens to me and you don’t want me on your bad side.”



“Are you threatening me?” Willow asked, raising one eyebrow.



“No, I am promising you! The next time you want to do something witchy, how about you stick to the stuff that you can’t muck up.”



Willow gasped and shot to her feet. “I just spent all morning making sure that you have a safety net here, so I’d be a little less quick to criticize if I were you!”



“Safety net? Willow, you and your stupid tricks have made a mess of everything.” Spike stopped talking before he said too much and pointed up the stairs. “Go on, give Joyce the paint brushes.”



“What are you not telling me?” She eyed him suspiciously. “What have I made a mess of?”



“Go away.”



“Can I fix it?”



“If I so much as smell incense on you or even think that you have done another spell with her on your mind, I will-“ He paused, rethinking the death threat he was about to issue. “Nevermind. Don’t do a thing because you could just make it worse. Leave it like it is and don’t screw around with her emotions or her feelings again. I mean it. She’s strong enough without you interfering and if you were any kind of friend, you would have known that.”



Spike crossed the room and sat on his bed, turning his back to her. She lingered for a full minute, then turned and went up the stairs. He sighed and laid back, putting the pillow over his head to drown out the sounds coming from the living room. For the first time, he admitted to himself that a part of him had wanted the Slayer's feelings to be real. A part of him had wanted that kiss to mean that she realized how lonely he was and was reaching out to him, inviting him into her life.



He had wanted it badly. That was the only logical reason that the truth was bothering him so much. Willow had caused it. Whatever she had done wrong with the spell had to be the reason that Buffy had grown so fond of him. He had definitely noticed a change in her. The previous day, when he had massaged her back, she had engaged in very civil conversation and seemed to enjoy his company. It had carried over to that night, when she had invited him to watch a movie with her.



Now it was all explained.



Except for the parts about his own feelings. Why had he been so bothered when he stumbled onto the vampires killing her in the first place? He should have been thrilled. He should have taken off his shoes and danced all over her bloody body, but instead, he stopped them and made sure Buffy was safe. Why? What made him try so hard to help her and to see to it that she was fed and comfortable? He could tell himself that it was to save his own life, but he could have easily left town and avoided the trouble.



He would have to tell Joyce that he would stay on until she could find someone else and until then, he would have to see to it that he didn’t give Buffy any false hope. Since there would be no spellcasting to reverse it, he would have to make her feelings go away on his own.



He was evil.



He could do it.







Joyce was pleasantly surprised when Buffy asked to wear one of her old sun dresses. Her daughter had explained that it was easier to do what she needed to do in the restroom if she wasn’t wearing shorts or pants with snaps and zippers. Joyce helped her dress and stood back to watch as Buffy grabbed a big round brush from the vanity and began drying her hair straight. Smiling, Joyce left her to her business and turned to go down the stairs.



Spike met her at the top and said, “Can I speak with you privately?”



“Sure.” Joyce took him into her bedroom and closed the door. “Is everything okay?”



“I don’t think so.” Spike ran his hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably in the stiff new shirt he had purchased the night before. “I’m officially giving you notice to find someone else to care for Buffy. I’ll stay until you do.”



Gasping, Joyce sat on the edge of her bed. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this now. I mean, the spell worked.”



“I realize that and I realize that this is probably going to put you in a bind, but I really think that it would be wise if I moved on.”



“Did something happen? Did you and Buffy argue again, because I can talk to her about it.” Joyce had begun to wring her hands nervously. The supplies for repairing her wall and new carpeting would definitely take a huge lump from her savings, which was already dangerously depleted.



“No, please don’t say anything to her about it. It’s my choice.”



With a sigh, she nodded. “I had a trip planned for later this week. A four day trip to Atlanta to purchase some pieces for a buyer in Santa Monica. I’m really relying on the money so if you could possibly wait until I get back, I’d appreciate that.”



“Anything you need, Joyce, and I do apologize.” Spike nodded at her and stepped out into the hall. He heard the hair dryer going in Buffy’s room and knocked on her door.



Buffy clicked the power button and glanced in the mirror. Her hair, despite the roots that had grown in, was full and shiny and she smiled at her reflection. Dabbing on a bit of lip gloss, she called out, “Come in!”



Spike stepped into her room and put his hands into his pockets. He watched as she backed her chair away from her vanity and rolled to face him. When she turned, he stared her up and down, wondering if she was even remotely aware of how beautiful she was. “Hey.”



Buffy smiled at him and pointed at his outfit, gray denims and a gray and white shirt. “I like the ensemble! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything except red, black and blue.”



He wanted to comment on how pretty she looked, how pretty her skin looked against the pale straps of her dress, but he forced himself not to. “I’ve given your mother notice. She is going on a trip in a few days and after that, she will be finding someone to replace me.”



Blinking rapidly, trying to disguise the pain that wanted to cloud her features, Buffy nodded. She had expected things to be awkward. She had expected him to have questions or tell her that it couldn’t happen between them, but never did she expect this. Her Slayer reflexes kicked in, the reflexes she relied on to protect herself. She nodded again. “Good. I was going to suggest the same thing.”



Spike was caught off guard. “You want me to go?”



“The sooner the better.” She chose a spot on the wall to focus on so she could avoid the cool blue of his eyes. “As a matter of fact, you don’t have to wait.”



“I gave your mother my word that I would stay until she found someone and I am going to do just that. She’s got a trip coming up and she needs me to--”



“Whatever,” Buffy shrugged and shooed him away with her hand.



“So that’s it? You’re not going to ask me why I’m going?”



“After last night I don’t need to.”



“What is that supposed to mean?” He raised his voice in frustration, then silently damned her for making him react to her statements at all.



Buffy turned her chair and went to her vanity, absently brushing her hair. “You have all the answers, you figure it out.”



“You know what? I’m not going to do this.” Spike threw his hands in the air. “Do you want to come downstairs?”



“My mom’s home. Take a day off.” She continued brushing her hair until she heard the door click. She turned to make sure that he had gone and then grabbed a tissue from her desk, wiping off the lip gloss she had applied. Glancing at her hair, she mussed it and then twisted it into a tight knot, securing it with a pin.



Hot tears scalded her cheeks and she rolled toward the window and raised her blind. The sun filtered through the trees, bathing her in the mid-morning warmth. Looking down at her lap, she stared at her prone legs and let the blind fall. She was repulsive, and it was wrong to be surprised that Spike had rejected her. He may have been in love with a psychotic demon, but at least she could walk and didn’t have to slither on her belly like a snake.



Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had not eaten, but Buffy ignored it and rolled toward her night table. She took two pills from the bottle and made her way to the bathroom, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t see him again. She could hear him downstairs, laughing at something Xander had said, and the sound only served to upset her more. Tossing the pills into her mouth, she downed them with a swig of water and rolled back into her room.



Spike was leaving her and she couldn't run after him. She couldn't even roll after him.



Sleeping was the only thing she had left.





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