XVIII

It took him a few moments to orient himself when he opened his eyes. He’d been accustomed to moving around quite a bit over the years, but this was the third bed in which he’d slept in as many days since he’d arrived in California. He was in the son’s bed, but the room reeked of Harris, which brought forth memories of some truly shitty times in his unlife – living in the Whelps basement feeling suicidal. Living in the Whelp’s apartment when he’d been controlled by the First. His staying at the Harris place much longer couldn’t bode well for him.

He could tell dusk had come and gone. He could feel it in his bones. And despite having slept in Harris’ house, it must have been a damn good sleep, because his body felt as good as new as he lay on his back, stretching and flexing his limbs. He was well recovered from the battle the night before. He hoped she was too.

As he lay in bed, he pondered what Buffy’s future would hold. Her life wouldn’t be much different from a vampire’s. She’d never grow old and frail, but she would bleed and would always know pain. Sooner or later, she’d have to fall off the grid. She’d never be able to explain to the human world why she remained so young, so she’d end up withdrawing from human society. In the end, she’d be alone: the only fate worse than death.

Bad shit always did happen to good people, he concluded. And the worst shit, to the best of them. But then again, bad shit always happened to him too.

“Fuck. I guess bad shit just happens,” he muttered bitterly.

“Spike?”

Startled by the door, Spike shot up in bed, the sheet falling to his waist.

“Niblet?”

Dawn walked into the room looking rested and beautiful, an easy smile on her face.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, love.” She was looking at him intently, and he was suddenly conscious – even self-conscious – of his nudity. Grabbing a spare pillow, he hastily put it over his lap.

“Relax, Spike. I know you’re old enough to have – like, great grandchildren older than my great grandparents or something, but you don’t look much older than Jesse’s friends, and I wouldn’t be freaked about seeing them naked.”

Spike raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

She shrugged. “We can’t help but judge people by their appearances.”

From Harris, the sentiment wound have offended him, but from Dawn… Well, he couldn’t help but be amused by how she viewed him now. Humans could be so literal-minded, so lacking in imagination.

“Well, you’ve grown into a beautiful woman, Niblet. Life must have been good to you.”

“It has been. Very good. I’ve had everything Mom could have ever wanted for me. I just wish…”

Spike tilted his head in a question.

“I just wish I could say the same for Buffy.”

He dropped his head and sighed. “Has it been so hard for her?”

Dawn shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. She’s not really one to complain anymore. She was such a whiner when she was a teenager, you know – always complaining to Mom or Giles about having to do one thing or another – not without reason, of course, but still.”

Spike narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

“Okay, fine. I was a whiner too. Anyway… Buffy would let you know when she thought life was unfair back then. She doesn’t anymore.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

A comfortable silence settled between them before Dawn spoke again.

“So why did you stay away?”

He looked her in the eyes then, and was surprised to find no condemnation there. Just curiosity. But he didn’t know how to answer her, so he shrugged.
 
“I can understand why you would have stayed away from me. I mean… I wasn’t very good to you that last year in Sunnydale.”

Spike furrowed his brow.

Moving to perch on the edge of the bed, she looked at him directly. “You know, I think the worst thing I’ve ever done to Buffy was to banish her from our house that year.”

Forty years may have passed, but the memory of that betrayal had stayed with him. He’d never forget how Buffy had felt that night when he’d found her… or when he’d held her.

“We were all afraid then, Spike. No, more like terrified. No one wanted to die, and we all thought we could somehow escape death if she was gone. That made absolutely no sense whatsoever when you think about it.”

He couldn’t disagree with that.

“She was the only one willing to die then, which is tragically ironic now, since...” She looked away then briefly.

“I was overwhelmed with guilt after she’d left that night, you know. I’d felt like I’d chosen everyone else in the world over her, and after she’d risked everyone else in the world to save me from Glory.” Her face looked pained. “And after she’d left, I was suddenly more afraid for her, than I’d been for myself.”

He was getting confused – unsure of where the conversation was heading.

“Until you came back.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You made me feel so ashamed.”

“Dawn-“

She waved a hand to stop him.

“But you also made me feel better about what I’d done. You have no idea how relieved I was to know that you would go to her. I was still worried for her, but I knew she wouldn’t be alone.”

He swallowed. “I’ll always have her back, Niblet.”

“I know. Maybe that’s why you stayed away. You were there for her when she needed you most, when she had no one else. But you stayed away when you knew she would be alright.”

That wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, so he shifted focus. “She never blamed you, Niblet, at least not that I remember. And I’ve never blamed you for giving me the cold shoulder after what I had done to her. Your reaction to me was natural – for fuck’s sake it was moral. And it came from a place of love for your sis.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And despite not wanting to have anything to do with me, you weren’t unkind to me.”

Dawn gave him a disbelieving look.

“Okay, maybe a little at first.” He smirked slightly. “But you let me be there for her. You didn’t try to control her life like the others did. You didn’t try to bloody kill me,” he finished jokingly.

Dawn chuckled lightly. “Well, I’m sorry, Spike.”

“Niblet, you don’t-“

“Maybe not. But I am sorry. And… It’s really good to see you again.”

Spike lowered his head and nodded shyly.

“Ooh!” Her eyes widened suddenly with excitement. “I’ve got a present for you! I completely forgot.”

Spike eyed her warily. “A present, huh?”

She nodded eagerly. “I’ll be right back,” she added with a giggle, before dashing out of the room like she was fifteen again.

When she reappeared in his bedroom, she had her hands behind her back.

“Close your eyes.”

He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at her behavior. Sod it. He’d play along. It wasn’t every year he got a present.

“Okay, open them.”

Opening his eyes, Spike looked at an empty-handed Dawn, before looking down at the foot of his bed.

“Bloody hell, Niblet. That looks just like-“

“Because it is. I rescued it from Buffy’s house.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. You’re lucky you’d hung it on the bathroom door, and not in the foyer, or it would have been toast. Or…” She scrunched up her face. “Whatever burnt leather would be.”

Mindful of the pillow on his lap, Spike reached out carefully for the coat. It was his coat, good as new – or, not singed at least. Bringing it to his nose, it had the distinct smell of smoke now, but that hardly mattered. Digging into the inside pockets, he found a pack of cigarettes, his phone and the key to his flat. Bloody hell. His day was looking up. He let an unguarded smile spread across his face.

“Thanks, love. Thought I’d lost her.”

“It’s a she?”

“Anything that matters always is.”

She smiled at him warmly, and then turned to leave. “I think I’ll let you get decent now. There’s blood and food in the kitchen.”

“Dawn.”

She turned back to him.

“Its good to see you too,” he offered quietly.

“See? Was that so hard?”

He looked at her questioningly.

“You should tell Buffy the same.” And with a smug turn of her face, she was gone.


*   *   *   *   *

Once he was dressed, Spike headed downstairs to find Buffy, and found her sleeping on the living room sofa. She was lying precariously on the couch – all four limbs dangling lazily over the edge. She’d let her hair out since that morning, so it fell down over her face like a waterfall and pooled on the floor. The TV was on, but at low volume, and in the darkened room, it’s flickering glare cast harsh, unsettling light onto her face. She couldn’t be comfortable.

Silently, Spike crept to the TV to shut it off. A few steps shy of the remote, the floorboards squeaked noisily under his feet and she was –

THUMP

“Uhn!”

…on the floor.

Oops. He couldn’t help it. It may have been the worst thing to do to her at such a god-awful time, but he erupted into laughter.

Pushing up with her arms and lifting her head from the floor, Buffy threw stakes at his face with her eyes.

“Is something funny?”

But Spike was laughing too hard to reply. Hands on his knees, he bent over and laughed harder at the look on her face.

“Fuck!”

The next moment his legs were flying out from under him, and he was crashing head first onto the floor.

And it was her turn to laugh.

He was only annoyed for a second, before the sound of her delight warmed his insides.

“Not fair, love,” he said with a chuckle, as he propped himself up on his elbows. “I didn’t dump you off the couch. You dumped yourself.”

“Yeah, well nothing’s fair in love and war, Spike,” she teased.

Spike tensed.

And which one is this? he asked her, but only in his mind. His lips were forming a different response. “Your landing aside, I see someone’s woken up on the right side of the sofa.” He was flipping to a stand the next second. “It’s nice to see your spirits improved.”

Buffy frowned, as if suddenly self-conscious about her happiness.

“Not a good sleep then?”

She shrugged. “I hadn’t really meant to go to sleep. Didn’t feel like dreaming, so I figured I’d watch-“

“Demon Hordes?” Spike had tilted his head to look behind her at the screen.

“It’s a-“

“Classic, I’m sure. Sounds like a good way to avoid nightmares too – you know – if you’re insane.”

“Or a Slayer who hangs out with a vampire. I’m not exactly afraid of demon hordes, Spike.  And it wasn’t nightmares I was hoping to avoid – more like memories. I tend to relive moments from my life when I come back.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Weird.”

“Yeah. And my dreams can get a bit too real for a few days after that. It’s like I get stuck in some real time and place from my past. It can be pretty freaky. I don’t always know where I am when I wake up.”

Spike raised his scarred brow. “Do you know where you are now?”

“With you in the room?” She smiled at him then, which gave him an odd sort of feeling, because he wasn’t quite sure what she’d meant.

“So how are you feeling?”

Buffy stretched her arms above her head as she stood on her toes then cracked her neck with a snap. “Good. Sore in the middle still, but strong.” Her eyes widened suddenly and a shadow seemed to cross her face.

“It’s not your fault if you’re getting stronger from their deaths, love.”

Her face turned stony. “I know that.”

Bugger. He was a real mood killer. He needed to lighten things up again. “So Niblet saw me naked.”

“What?!”

Spike chuckled. “Calm down, Slayer. She’s a grown-up.”

Buffy advanced on him.

“And that came out wrong,” he replied in a rush, as he took a step back, still smiling. “She came into my room when I’d just woken up, and you know how I sleep in-“

“Spike.”

“Sorry. There’s a point here, I swear,” he assured her with a chuckle.

“So get to it.”

“She didn’t see anything, pet. But I was a bit… well, bashful about her being in there.”

She just blinked at him, arms tensed at her sides.

“Uh… Anyway, she told me to relax because seeing me naked would be about as interesting to her as seeing one of her kid’s friends that way.”

Buffy relaxed her stance.

“It’s funny, that’s all – Niblet looking at me like I’m a kid.”

It was a small smile, but it was there.

He tilted his head to the side. “Does she look at you that way too?”
 
She seemed to think about it for a second then shrugged. “Sometimes. But I look like I did when she was fifteen, so I still wear the face of her big sister, you know? I don’t think she and Xander really think about themselves as being old until they look in the mirror. But at other times… I guess when she’s conscious of her age or when she thinks I’m being childish, she thinks I haven’t grown up because I don’t look middle-aged.”

“There’s a whole fucking world of middle-aged-looking children out there, love. Exhibit A is your brother-in-law.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him. “It doesn’t bother me so much when Dawn does it. I think it’s more difficult for them. I mean, they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing as the years go by – getting wrinkles, jobs, kids, retirement plans. I’m the one not … but I can’t see anything wrong with me not looking like the self I’ve always known, you know? When I look in the mirror at whatever age, I always recognize myself, so nothing looks strange. But when they look at me sometimes, I think I seem-”

“Out of place.”

She looked away.

“Sounds lonely, love.”

She looked back to him suddenly, a frown marring her face. “We should head to Slayer Central soon and check on everyone.”

He didn’t answer – too distracted as he was by her choice of words. Were they a ‘we’ now? Had they become a team? A dynamic duo? Was this to be the new state of things? Did this mean she wanted him to stay? Could it really have been that easy to reintegrate into her life? Had he spent the last forty years without her for no reason? Did-

“Today will be hard for them, Spike.”

’Focus, mate’, he thought to himself.  

“They’ve lost Slayers before, but… Well, they haven’t been losing them for as long as I have. It’s still new. I mean… it’s still hard.”

He could hear the sadness in her voice, could see it in her eyes. But it didn’t seem to overwhelm her. “Alright, pet. Ready when you are.”

“I need to eat something first.”

“Dawn said there was food and blood in the kitchen.”

“Perfect. Um, the first part, I mean.”

“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it, pet.”

“Nah. Think I’ll knock it now, thanks.” Buffy started to walk towards the kitchen, but then stopped and turned around.

“I wonder what my kitchen looks like.”

Bugger. He’d almost forgotten how much she’d lost even before the battle in L.A. “You had a great, little house there, Slayer.”

“Had? You think I’m going to stay with my sister for much longer? At my age? Oh no. We’re fixing it up, Spike. Just as soon as we handle the Dragvloks.” And with that, Buffy resumed her march to the kitchen, leaving Spike to wonder who the bloody hell she meant by ‘we’.

~  ~   ~

She’s lonely, Spike. Obviously.

Lonely.

Yeah.… You’re a distraction.

A distraction.

A reminder… of who she was, back in Sunnydale. When she was young. And mortal. I remind her of what she is now, and of the future that lies ahead of her. Don’t you see? She can’t handle that right now…

~  ~   ~

Maybe the wanker wasn’t so delusional – about some things anyway. So she was lonely. It’s not like he wasn’t lonely too. Nothing wrong with that. Everybody was. That was reason enough to want someone else in your life. And he’d promised himself that he’d be there for her, for as long as she needed him, in whatever way she did. If she needed a distraction, he could be that.

Of course, if she were any other woman, he wouldn’t be that.  Hell, if she were a mortal Buffy, he wouldn’t be that for her. He’d refused to settle for crumbs from her years ago. That had been part of the reason he’d never told her he’d come back. He’d regained a bit of dignity after burning from the bloody inside out, and he knew he’d never get from her what he wanted. And he’d wanted all of her then. Sod it. He was done lying to himself. He wanted all of her still. But the world had already asked too much of her. He wouldn’t ask for more.

No matter how badly he wanted it.

“Hey, Buff!”

The Whelp was in the kitchen. Spike wasn’t in the mood for his stupidity, but he knew he could use a bit of blood, so decided to join them.

“Hey, Xan. Did you guys sleep well?” he heard Buffy say.

“Yeah, like the dead.”

Spike entered the kitchen just in time to see the Whelp smack his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Someone please cure me of my foot-in-mouth disease.”

“It’s alright, Xander.” Buffy gave him a pat on the chest and returned to the counter where she’d started making a sandwich.

“Evening, Harris.”

Xander jumped at the sound of his voice. “Jesus, Spike. Why can’t you make more noise when you enter a room, like normal people do? You know, drag your feet or lumber or something.”

Spike bit back a retort and remembered his manners. “Thanks for the room, Harris. I needed the sleep.”

“Oh.” The Whelp looked surprise by his gratitude. “No worries. Mi casa es… um, mi casa, actually. You’ve got your own. But these were unusual circumstances, so-”

“Spike, there’s blood here,” Buffy interrupted.

“Cheers, pet.” Eager to end the conversation, Spike went to prepare himself a mug as Buffy set to devouring her sandwich at the counter.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Xander asked cheerfully.

“Back to Slayer Central, first,” Buffy replied through a mouthful. “I want to check on the girls.”

“Of course.”

“Then it’s recon for the Dragvloks.”

“So soon?”

“No time like the present, Xander.”

Xander sighed, seemingly resigned. “Alright, Buff. Anything I can do?”

“Yeah, actually. We need to get Slayer Central fixed up. I don’t know how much the Council will do-“

“What’s this about the Council?” Dawn entered the room and wrapped an arm around Xander’s waist.

“Buff was just saying that Slayer Central needs a handyman.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I only got the Council involved for the cleanup. You know how independent the L.A. girls are. I figured they’d rather see the Council leave sooner than later. We’ll pay for repairs, of course, once they find someone local to repair the damage.”

“Think you could draw on those old contractor skills, Xander? You know, find us a renovator or something?”

“No problemo. One actually comes to mind. I’ll ring the guys I was going to get to renovate our place for the Comptel 5 installation. Hey! Maybe if I give them the warehouse business, they’ll give us a discount, Dawnie, and we could-“

“Keep dreaming, honey.”

Deflated, Xander grabbed a slice of roast beef and began chewing despondently.

Rolling her eyes with amusement, Buffy finished the last bite of her sandwich. “Ready, Spike?”

Quickly, he downed the last bit of blood in his mug. “After you, Slayer.” He smiled at Dawn. “Thanks, Niblet.”

“Any time.”

“Have you got the keys?” Buffy asked, as they walked to the front door.

“That’s not all I’ve got.” Spike hustled to the foot of the stairs where he’d left his coat thrown over the banister. Meeting Buffy in the foyer, he slid his duster on like an old skin.

Buffy smiled at him. ‘Yeah, Dawn told me earlier. I can’t believe it survived. That can’t be your old one, though. Surely it burned in the Hellmouth.”

“Try again. It’s my third. I’ve had this one for about thirty years – which is longer than I had the first one.”

“Looks good. Actually, it looks better than the old one.”

“It does. Feels better too. And it means something. Got this one when I was free. Free of Angel. Free of Drusilla. Free of the chip. Free of the hold my demon had over me.” Spike paused as his mind drifted back to Nikki Wood. “Plus I reckon I’ve saved ten times the number of Slayers in this coat than I’ve ever hurt.”

“Spike-“

“Don’t get me wrong. I never felt guilty about wearing the old coat. I was proud. I was a vampire. She was a Slayer. We had our parts to play. She would have killed me and never looked back. But… “

“Yeah?”

“Well, this one means more now.”

She didn’t reply – just looked at him pensively.

“Also, it’s Italian,” he added glibly. “Softer leather, broader shoulders. And did you see the stitching?” He extended a sleeve for her inspection.

“Very nice, Spike,” she acknowledged with a smirk.

“Let’s get out of here, pet, before Harris has something else to say.”
 
Grabbing the scythe, his new sword, and a sweet-looking bowie knife from the foyer corner, the two walked outside to the Mini. He hadn’t realized he’d parked it so haphazardly – half in the driveway and half on the grass.

“Sorry Queenie looks like shit again, Slayer, but that’s mostly your fault.”

“Hey!”

“You’re the one who was mowing down Dragvloks like bowling pins.”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a pout.

“How about I drive?”

“Fine by me.”

The two rode in companionable silence for several minutes as Spike drove without regard for the speed limits and traffic signs. He was surprised she didn’t complain. When he’d steal a glance her way after a particularly gross violation of traffic law, she’d look more amused than anything.

“So what happened with Angel?” she asked unexpectedly.

Bollocks. Did they have to have this conversation?
 
“Nothing new, Slayer.”

“Were you fighting over me?”

He looked at her askance. “Over you?”

“About me, I mean,” she corrected hurriedly. “If Angel came to see you, I’m guessing he told you to stay away from me.”

Spike didn’t answer.

“But it looks like you’re going to ignore that advice…”

Bugger. This wasn’t a conversation he knew how to have – mainly, because he didn’t know the bloody rules. He didn’t know what she was trying to say, let alone what she wanted to hear. So he stayed quiet.

“Spike,“ she stated with force.

So he relented. “Angel hasn’t been the boss of me since I was a fledge, Slayer. And he’s never been the boss of you. I could give a fuck what advice he has for me. If you want me gone-“

“Spike-“

“I’m gone. Just say the word.”

“And if I want you to stay?”

He paused. “Then I’m here, Buffy.”

Silence.

“For how long?” Her tone was flat and dispassionate.

He kept his eyes on the road. “For as long as you need me, I guess. I’ve been hunting demons and saving Slayers for years now. I can do it here, just as easily as anywhere else.”

Silence.

“Right.”


*    *    *    *

They made it to Slayer Central in very little time at the speed he drove, and they’d spent most of that time lost in their own thoughts.

The Council goons were still stationed at the front entrance looking dutifully intimidating – for humans, anyway – and the inside lights were on and glowing through the windows.

Nodding at the Slayer as she and Spike approached the entrance, the two guards silently parted to let them through.

“Buffy!” Pipa yelled from the upstairs hallway.

“Hey, Pipa.” Her happiness to see the young girl walking around was obvious.

“Hold on, I’ll get the others.” Pipa disappeared down the upstairs hallway, but with noticeable difficulty, and reappeared a minute later with Gina, Sonny, and the other two.

“Buffy!” Gina shouted. The girls descended the stairs to greet her – Sonny and Pipa the slowest to move.

“How ya doin’, sis?” Gina asked, before smiling at Spike. “’W’sup, bro?”

Spike nodded.

“I’m fine,” Buffy replied. “You know me. More importantly, how are all of you?”

“Sonny and I were the most badly wounded,” Pipa acknowledged, as she finally made it to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m fine,” Sonny insisted with irritation. But she’d already seated herself on the edge of a burnt and busted armchair.

“And the rest of you? Stevie? Rachel?”

“We’re alright,” Rachel replied.

“Where are the others? Dawn said there were… eight.”

The girls exchanged knowing glances, before Pipa spoke up.

“Mel, Tori and Sally went out.”

“Out?”

“To find the Dragvloks,” Pipa admitted guiltily.

“What? Why? What were they thinking?”

“What do you think they were thinking?” Sonny challenged. “Sal lost Carla last night and Mel and Tori lost all of their crew.”

“Sonny, there’s no ‘their crew’ and-“

“Spare me, Pipa, please,” Sonny remarked wearily.  

“Okay.”  Buffy injected. “Where did they go?”

“We – don’t – know.”

“Watch it,” Spike warned Sonny.

“Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

“Well for one, I’m your fucking elder, you stupid bint, and I could make you do whatever the fuck I wanted. But I don’t care what you do, so long as you show Buffy the respect she deserves.”

“Spike,” Buffy said with mild admonishment.

“Yeah,” he quickly replied, his eyes never leaving the young Slayer.

“Step away. She’s been through enough.”

Sonny scrunched up her face in disgust. “I don’t need your pity, Summers. And I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“Sonny, I don’t-“

“Whatever.” Sonny hobbled away towards the kitchen.

“What the hell is her problem?” Spike asked.

“Buffy,” Gina replied simply. “She doesn’t like her.”

“Gathered that much, pet. The question is why.”

“Long story,” Pipa replied nervously. “So, Buffy… what happens now?”

Buffy scanned the faces of the girls in the room. “You all should rest. Recover. There are only a half dozen Dragvloks out there, and if Spike and I can find them and take them down, then this nightmare is over. You guys just focus on yourselves and on rebuilding your home.”

“You want us to sit on our asses why you go hunt those bastards alone?” Stevie questioned with disbelief.

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Rachel mumbled.

“Because it is,” Buffy insisted. “Stevie, there’ll be other battles for you to fight. There always are. The best thing you can do now is to stay together and heal. Xander is getting someone in to fix up the place and – you know, refortify it. Then we can send the Council guys home. In the meantime, you get a break from all the bloodshed to just… be girls for a change.”

“Be girls?” Stevie echoed.

“Okay, young women,” Buffy corrected.

“And what about protecting the city?”

“Spike and I can handle L.A. for a few days, Stevie. My house was torched too, so I’ll be in town for a while.”

“I don’t know, sis. We haven’t stopped slaying since we were called,” Gina argued. “There’s no vacation from this gig.”

“Well there should be. Or at least, with so many Slayers in the world now, there can be. We lost too many last night. We don’t have to risk more so soon. We’ve got Spike here to help now.”  

“Okay,” Pipa replied. “We can do this, guys. We can lay low. Regroup. Focus on the family.”

“Jesus Christ, Pipa–“

“So we’re decided,” Buffy declared interrupting Stevie. “You’ll leave the city and the Dragvloks to Spike and me. Is there anything else you guys need?”

“Precious would be nice,” Gina offered.

“Who?”

“She means The Caretaker, Buffy,” Pipa explained. “For me and Sonny. But I told her he probably wouldn’t come again so soon, and especially not with the Council’s men here. We’re okay, though, really. We’re healing. We’ve had the Council doctor in.”

Buffy shifted her eyes from one girl to the other. “Are you sure?”

Gina sighed. “It’s your body, Pip. But you don’t have to hurt like this.”

“We’re sure,” Pipa replied.

“Okay. Well, I’ve got my wrist thingie if you guys need me. I don’t have my phone anymore-“

“I’ve got one, love.” Spike pulled his cell phone from his duster pocket. “We can ring them to check in later.”

Buffy nodded, and then moved to embrace Pipa. “I’m sorry Pipa, but I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks, Buffy.”

One by one, Buffy hugged each girl, Gina last. “Take care of them, Gina,” she whispered in her ear.

“You know I will.”

Nodding to the group, Spike turned to leave with Buffy one step behind him.

“Hey, Spike,” Gina shouted as they stepped out the door.

Spike stopped and turned around to face her.

“Love the coat,” she commented with a smile.

Pause.

Spike blinked.

“Thanks.”

*    *    *    *

It took him a moment to shake off the sense of déjà vu.

“They look to be holding up alright, pet.”

They were back in the car but Spike hadn’t started the engine.

“I guess, all things considered. But it’s not them I’m worried about.”

“You’re thinking about Sally and the others.”

Buffy bent her head back against the seat.

“They’re Slayers, pet. You can’t keep them out of harm’s way. It’s where they belong.”

“But they’re grieving, Spike. And they may be injured too.”

“And you never fought that way.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not. And they’re not your charges either. They’re girls with minds and wills of their own, Slayer. All you can do is back them up – to the extent that they’ll let you anyway.”

“Should we find them?” she asked with uncertainty.

“No. We should find the assholes that want to kill them. Then you don’t have to worry at all. And I know just where to start.”

*    *    *    *

They were standing outside a nondescript, windowless building with a cast iron door. Only the green neon sign reading ‘Lilith’s’ gave any indication that the place was a business.

“Anybody know you around here, Slayer?”

“Not really. I’m not the only petite blond with superpowers anymore. And I don’t spend that much time in L.A.”

“Good.”

“Spike, we better not be here to play kitten poker.”

“Relax, Slayer. We’ll just have a drink at the bar, keep our ears open, and maybe strike up a conversation with a drunk idiot or two.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Sure. It’s my local pub. They serve a great A neg and Jack.”

“A neg? As in human blood?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“I don’t wear knickers.”

“Since when?”

“Spike. I mean I wear–  Wait. We were talking about you drinking human blood.”

“It’s legit, Slayer. A business like this couldn’t kill for its blood for very long without getting caught. There’s no end to the supply of blood donors strapped for cash.”

“People are selling their blood to this place?”

“Why not? They used to sell it to the Red Cross back in the day. Do you know how many homeless there are in this city?”

“No.”

“Well… neither do I. But they used to outnumber the population of Sunnydale, pet. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. So relax.”

Spike pounded on the door three times and waited.

No one answered.

“Maybe they’re closed, Spike.”

Spike glared at her.

“Spike they’re not-“

Slowly, the door swung open.

He smirked. “After you, pet.”

“Wait. Is this our only exit? There are no windows, Spike. I-“

“Slayer, you’re immortal for Christ’s sake. And I don’t mean immortal like a vampire, cause I can dust. You’re also stronger than just about anything that would walk into this joint. And most importantly…” The corners of his mouth turned up slowly. “You’re with me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “And?”

“And if anybody asks, I’ll just say you’re dinner.”

“Oh. So this is a dinner date?”

Spike chuckled. “Not bad, Slayer. Love that you can joke about it.”

Buffy frowned. “I’ve got a great sense of humor. That’s not new.”

“Maybe not. But it’s definitely more… liberal.”

“Whatever. Let’s get inside.”

The bar was well lit for a demon bar, but with a sickly green light that made the scarlet walls look the color of old, dried blood. There were less than a dozen demons in the place, representing just as many species, and they were scattered about – on bar stools, at tables and in dark corners. The mood was surprisingly lively though, and there was plenty of chatter over the music. That is, until Spike and Buffy walked through the door. Within seconds, every set of eyes in the place had the newcomers in their sights.

Correction: had Buffy in their sights.

Bugger.

Spike slipped his fingers through Buffy’s hair and gripped the back of her head forcefully. He hoped she knew to play along.  He wasn’t remotely afraid for their safety, but he knew the only way to get intel from this crowd, was to blend in quick.  
 
Turning to walk towards the bar, he tried to drag Buffy behind him by the back of her head. He got as far as one step before she resisted.

“What-“

Vamping out with a growl, Spike had her pinned against the wall at inhuman speed - his fangs scraping at her neck without breaking the skin. She tensed instantly, but didn’t resist. Pressing her hard into the wall with his body, he dragged his tongue from the base of her neck to the angle of her jaw. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest as he licked her – could feel the pulse of her artery against his lips.

He was hard in an instant.

From the angle of her jaw, he dragged his tongue to her ear and growled low.

She whimpered.

And he was lost.

Grabbing her roughly by the arms, he shoved her hard against the wall. Golden eyes travelled down to her mouth, pink and open, as if inviting him in.

She licked her lips.

Fuck. Bloody, blistering fuck. What the fuck had happened? Was she just playing along? How far was she willing to go? Could he take what he wanted?

Sod it. He gripped her harder and thrust her roughly to his chest. Shifting back into his human face, he lowered his mouth to–

“You gonna a buy a drink, vampire, or what? This ain’t BYO!”

Bloody hell.

Spike clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose. Avoiding her eyes, he relaxed his grip and let her go. As he turned to face the bartender, he thought about all the possible ways he could make him suffer for the interruption. But he had a role to play.

“Jack. Straight. Just give me the whole fuckin’ bottle, mate.”

The barkeep nodded, then grabbed a bottle and slid it down the bar top into Spike’s waiting hand.  For some reason, he was terrified to look back at her, so he slumped into a stool and took a drink from the bottle.

“Save your dinner for after you’re gone, vampire. Nobody’s cleaning up your mess here.”

Spike just glared at the demon with annoyance.

She took the stool next to him and knocked on the counter to get the barman’s attention. She was promptly ignored.

“Um, excuse me. I’d like a drink, please.”

The bartender exchanged a glance with a few demons further down the bar and the group of them burst out laughing.

“She’d like a drink!” he echoed between chuckles.

The whole bar seemed to relax again after that, and the noise of lively chatter picked up again.

Mustering the nerve to look at her again, Spike turned his head to her slightly.

“Zip it, ducks. Let a bloke enjoy a drink in peace. You just sit there looking delicious. Got it?”

She looked murderous, but managed a smile. “Got it, hon.”

Spike slouched against the back of the wooden stool, legs spread wide, and sipped his bottle. His face was a mask, but his mind was on permanent replay of the kiss that hadn’t happened. He’d finished a third of his bottle before the Slod demon two stools away struck up a conversation.

“Cute whore. How did you do it? Thrall?”

Spike swallowed his fury at the prick and replied with practiced nonchalance.

“Don’t need thrall. She’s a regular snack, not a kill.”

The Slod leaned forward and appeared to inspect her neck.

“That’d be too obvious, mate,” Spike added.
 
The Slod narrowed his eyes.

“Put it this way. I eat her where she wants, then I eat her where I want.” He pressed his tongue behind his teeth and grinned.

The Slod leaned back and laughed heartily.  “They’ll let you do anything if you do that for them, won’t they?”

“Pretty much, mate. Pretty much.”

Et voila. Spike had found his first idiot. It was easy enough with Slods. Like vampires, they looked largely human, so they shared that burden. It was a benefit in human society, certainly, but it made them less popular amongst their own. Of course, the fact that Slods were known for collecting rare organs like vampire hearts no doubt made Spike an even more attractive conversation partner.

“I’ve seen you here before, vampire.”

“Have you?”

“You’re rather hard to forget. You look like a human movie star.”

Spike smirked. “I live nearby.”

“Do you? You must be a man of means. I’ve got a shit hole on Riker’s Street.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “That near Trimmold Street?”

“The same neighborhood, yes, but two streets over. You must have heard about what happened there then, since you mentioned it.”

“Heard a bunch of Dragvloks had a party. Made streamers out of some Slayers.”

That sent the demon laughing again. “Nice way to put it, vampire. I like that. But I don’t know how accurate that is. Those little cunts got their licks in too.”

“No pun intended,” Spike deadpanned.

“Right,” he replied with a chuckle. “You’re a funny one, vampire.”

“Name’s Bill.”

“Billy the Kid?”

“Sure. Why not.”

“That suits you. With those looks and all.”

“You hittin’ on me, mate? Cause I don’t shag Slods anymore. They have a habit of breaking my heart.”

The Slod almost fell off his stool laughing at that one.

“Oh Bill, you are a funny one! Don’t worry about me. I’m not interested in vampires anymore either. I hit the jackpot with that Dragvlok attack though.”

“Yeah? Didn’t know Dragvlok hearts were valuable.”

“Oh yes. Certain shamans in the area will pay top dollar for them. That’s where looking human comes in handy. I gathered a few hearts and talons last night. But that wasn’t the prize.”

Spike swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up his throat.

The Slod spoke up so that the whole room could hear. “I’ve procured myself a Slayer tongue!”

The entire bar erupted into hoots, howls and cheers.

Spike threw his right arm over the back of his stool and quickly placed a hand on Buffy’s thigh. He could feel the tension under his fingers.

“You’re full of shit, mate.”

“You don’t believe me, Bill?”

“How’d you get past the Slayers?”

“Easy. The place was over-run with humans after the Dragvloks fled. I slipped in and sliced a tongue off one of the Slayers furthest from the rest. I couldn’t risk taking anything more obvious. But nobody bothers to look inside a dead girl’s mouth,” he confided with glee.

He could feel the muscles in her thigh flex and squeezed hard.

“Good on ya, mate. I haven’t had the taste of Slayer in an age.”

That sent the Slod chuckling again at the pun. “They’re easy pickings these days, Bill. They don’t make a Slayer like they used to.”

“So you reckon the Dragvloks will try and finish off the rest?”

“Hm. I don’t know, but I hope not.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, there was barely half a dozen fleeing the scene last night. You know there used to be a hundred Dragvloks in this realm, but the Slayers have brought them to the edge of extinction. Those few last night may have been the only ones left and I’d hate to see them lose any more of their number.”

“Poor buggers.”

“Indeed. They’ve probably killed enough Slayers to satisfy their revenge for the moment. If I were a Dragvlok, I’d be focused on breeding now to regrow the population.”

The muscles under his fingers were taut as bowstrings. Spike knew he had to get her out of there before things got bloody.
 
“Well, speaking of breeding…”

The Slod giggled mischievously.

“Enjoy your snack, Bill.”

Spike nodded, took another swig of Jack, and slipped the bottle into his pocket. After paying his tab, he grabbed the back of Buffy’s neck without meeting her eyes, and bustled her out of the bar.

Closing the bar door behind him, he reluctantly turned to face her.

“Ow!”

He hadn’t expected a punch in the nose. He knew she’d be angry, but he thought the Slod would get the brunt of it.

“Slayer, I-“

“I get what you were doing, Spike,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“Then why–“

“To remind you who you’re dealing with.”

“You think I’d forget?”

“Well it’s been a while.”

“Buffy-“

“I want his head, Spike. And I want it now.”

“I know, Slayer. And you’ll get it. But not here. Not now. There’s no need to blow our cover at this place. We know where the bastard lives. Also, he’s been useful. We may be able to use him again before we gut him.”

He could almost feel the anger rolling off of her shoulders. God, she was beautiful.

“Look, Buffy. The Dragvloks may not be so easy to find at this stage if they’ve gone underground. And I don’t know who else would know more about their whereabouts than the fucking organ poacher who actually saw what went down.”

She seemed to be calming down and considering things. “Wait. That jerk mentioned something about shamans paying top dollar for demon parts.”

“And?”

“And we know a shaman. We were just talking about him at Central. They call him the Caretaker. Maybe he knows something.”

“Bit of a stretch, pet, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s the only lead we have if we want to wipe the Dragvloks off the face of the earth.”

Spike tilted his head to the side. “Do we want to do that?”

“Huh?”

“Hunting demons, killing them. Yeah. Fun all around. But exterminating an entire species? Don’t know. Just seems wrong some how. Final, you know?”

She just stared at him. Blinking.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not exactly an expert on ethics.”

“No.”

He looked away. That shouldn’t have offended him, but it did.

“No, Spike. I mean you’re wrong.”

He met her eyes again.

“Your opinion is just as valid as mine. Maybe more. You’ve lived a lot longer, and you’ve seen enough evil and enough good to know the difference.”

“I’ve done enough evil, you mean.”

“Whatever. You have a soul now. You have a conscience. And the truth is, yeah. It does seem wrong when you put it like that. Who are we to exterminate a species? But this species wants to exterminate Slayers, so I have a job to do.”

“Alright.”

Buffy sighed wearily. “It’s all shades of grey, Spike. I realized that a long time ago. Most actions have good consequences to one group and bad consequences to another. In the end, we’re just picking sides.”

Spike looked at her longingly. “Well, I guess I’m on yours.”

She smiled shyly. “So we find the Caretaker.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Feel like visiting an old friend?”