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part six - forgiven

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"Are you okay?"

Dawn lowered her eyes, clutching an ice pack to her forearm. "Yeah, yeah... I'm fine."

Buffy was pacing in front of her, her arms crossed. A look of barely contained worry, fury and fear was on her face, and her eyes darted around the room before settling on her sister. "Are you? Huh, Dawn? Are you really fine? You don’t look like it to me. You look like you just got your ass knocked to the ground and the hell nearly beaten out of you, by a vampire!"

The teenager refused to look at the blonde woman, turning her head to the side to stare at her muddy jeans. "At least I’m not dead," she muttered.

Buffy stormed over to her and grasped her chin, tilting it up and revealing the two pinpricks on the crook of her neck. "No, but you came pretty damn close, Dawn!" She let go and turned away, running her fingers through her blonde locks in frustration. "What the hell were you thinking? Tell me, Dawn, because I’m lost, I don’t understand! You know better than to go out at night by yourself, so why the hell did you? I mean... Christ, Dawn, you crept off when we were in line at the damn grocery store! What in the hell was so damn important that you just took off like that?!"

Dawn shut her eyes tightly and sniffed, then looked directly at her sister. In a strained, tearful voice and between clenched teeth, she forced out, "I thought I saw Spike."

That was a lie. A really big lie. Because she had seen Spike. She’d gotten pretty damn good at detecting blurry black forms with lightning white hair moving at top speed from how often she'd watched him break for the sewer entrance from their front porch in the daylight. And she’d seen said form as it sped past the shoppers and shot through the doors, not even leaving a single blip on the shoplifting mechanism. Which, of course, would be the only reason Spike would be here – after all, he didn’t really have any money.

Dawn had slipped past the others and run out the door after him, but stopped when it became apparent that he was doing the avoidy thing. Annoying as that was, she instantly left her common sense behind her and began looking for him. Which was when that stupid fledgling had shown up, hoping to get a free meal off of an unwary passerby.

She had fought back well, just like Buffy had taught her, but then she’d made a tiny slip; she'd thrown a left when she should have thrown a right. The vamp had caught her arm and twisted it back hard, leaving her with a severely pulled muscle. Knocking her down, the fledge had thrown himself on top of her and had just barely nicked her neck when suddenly he’d exploded, revolting, greasy dust raining down on her body. Spike’s face had appeared through her grimace, and she’d grabbed his extended hand, pulling herself up.

After checking her over, and rather extensively (she wasn't sure if he was doing it because of his obligation to her, or just to indulge her with special one-on-one Spike attention), Spike had stood straight up, wide blue eyes focused on the store. As Dawn watched him, he began to back up fearfully, looking for all the world like a small, frightened little boy at the imminent approach of his former lover. He'd just backed out of sight completely when Buffy had stormed toward Dawn.

Buffy's entire demeanor softened at Dawn's choked voice... and at the mention of Spike. So Dawn thought that she'd seen him, too? Maybe Buffy wasn't going crazy...

She moved toward her sister and knelt in front of her. Giving Dawn her best apologetic look, she smiled weakly and said, "Dawnie... sweetie, I'm sorry. I know I'm coming down hard on you, but honest to God, you scared the bejeezus out of me." She cupped Dawn's cheek gently and her smile strengthened. "I know you can take care of yourself now. But I'm the Slayer. I'm still your big sister. So I'm still the Head Cheese. I worry about you." She gave the teen a pointed look. "And it would be really nice if you indulged big sis, once in a while. All I ask is that the next time you think you see something," especially Spike, "please, PLEASE, tell me first. Before you decide to go off and nearly get yourself killed."

Dawn gave her that look -- the one where she thought Buffy was being especially over-protective of her for Buffy's own benefit, and that she was seriously contemplating saying no, just to see what her sister would do. Then her eyes cleared, which meant that she was reconsidering it and relenting. Dawn rolled her eyes and shifted her hurt arm. The bright blue irises peered up at her and softened, reading the hopeful, pleading look on Buffy's face. She nodded slowly, sighing. "Okay. I promise. And I'm fine. Really, it's just a bruise and a scratch, I'll be good to go in no time."

Buffy smiled, giving Dawn a quick, relieved hug. "I hope so." Sighing, she stood up and flopped into seat next to Dawn. "So," she started, hoping to God that her voice sounded all nonchalant, "What exactly did you see that convinced you to piston off after a Spike Look-A-Like?"

Dawn gave her sister a disbelieving Look. "Duh. The usual signs." At Buffy's blank look she sighed, waving her free arm. "Hello? You know? White-blond hair, all black, really pale skin, tall, skinny, lean-looking?" The teenager paused and frowned. "It's kind of unnerving how many people in Sunnydale resemble him from behind.”

There was a loud snort from the Slayer, and Buffy leaned back. "I'll say. I thought I was hallucinating for a second when I saw a clone in the hair-care aisle." Best not to mention how *much* I've been seeing clones. It could get Dawn's hopes up.

Dawn smiled weakly. Of course, that was only on the outside. Inwardly, she was doing an Irish jig. Hell, she was doing the freaking River Dance. Buffy's been having Spike-visions? Busted! she thought delightedly. "You've been seeing Spike, too, huh?" She looked down, sighing. "Glad it's not just me."

She hazarded a glance at her sister when Buffy remained silent. The Slayer looked sullen; unhappy. Finally, she answered, in a broken tone. "No. Not just you."

---

Stupid movie. Oh, the irony: a vampire watching vampires. He grunted to himself. People still putting too much of a fix on Dracula, he thought, scowling. Unbelievable.

The stupid chit on the screen was screaming about blood. Look at the blood. Nice blood. All red, and shiny, and... pulsing with... life and... and...

Oh, hell, now he was hungry.

Damned if he wasn't having a bit of dèjá vu. Oh, well. He sighed and scowled down at his stomach as it growled before hauling himself out of his chair.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep, useless breath, then reached into his little refrigerator, pulling out a jar of blood. Unscrewed the lid. Lifted it to his lips.

The door was being pushed open.

Horror settled on Spike's face as he realized why exactly it was that he was having dèjá vu. This had been the premise of he and Buffy's invisible tryst the year before. He squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears that hadn't been called upon leaking out from under his eyelids and glittering streams down his pale, sunken cheeks. "Please, no," he whispered, sinking to his knees. "God, please, not this again... Don't torture me like this, please..."

Soft, feminine footsteps crept inside, and then... her soft voice... reaching into his dead, lonely, aching heart: "Spike? Are you here?"

He sniffed and wrapped his arms around his legs, drawing his knees to his chest, sniffling as he cowered next to the sarcophagus. He couldn't let her see him, couldn't let her know he was there. His nightmares had been getting worse, and he wasn't in any condition to be in her vicinity right then, right there. Besides, bad things would happen the second she found him. Glorious, earth-shaking things, things that he'd wanted from her for years... but things bad enough that they would leave his agonized heart whirling 'round in a garbage disposal if they happened again.

She spoke up again: "Spike? Please... if you're here -- and I know you are, so stop hiding... could you please come out? I need to talk to you."

Spike sniffed again, choosing to remain in the shadows. "How'd you know I was here?" he asked quietly, his voice rough and low.
The footsteps neared then stopped at the edge of the sarcophagus. "Dawn told me," she murmured gently.

Oh, he was gonna kill that bint. "Big mouth," he muttered.

He heard the sound of a half-amused laugh. "That's Dawnie for ya." The footsteps came closer to him. He dared to raise his eyes -- at least a little, to see her feet. Oh. Cute little silver-painted Slayer toes. There was a little silver toe ring on the second toe of her left foot. Little wicker-like platform sandals that criss-crossed over the top, and -- damn it!

"So..." she started softly, shuffling her feet before shifting onto her right foot. "You came back."

Spike grunted. "Yeah, an' I'm kickin' myself for it, believe me."

Buffy leaned against the wall, sliding down to the ground next to him. Distinctly hurt voice. "Why?"

Spike chanced another glance at her, then instantly regretted it. Gods, she was exquisite. Feathered, sun bleached blonde hair. She had bangs -- he hadn't seen her wear bangs since the first time he'd met her. Puffy-sleeved shirt -- boat-necked -- hanging on her tiny, skinny, muscular form. Her pale gold skin was positively glowing, though it was pitch black in his little House of Death save for the precious few candles. And... well, hell.

He growled softly. I'm not s'posed to want her anymore, he reminded himself. Stupid bloody wish demon. Why couldn't things go his way for once?

He looked down again. "Because you don't need me here. Gummin' up the works, makin' your head all topsy-turvy, ruinin' your patrollin' an' what-not. I never should've come back... I don't even know why I did."

An awkward silence. Then, a tiny Slayer hand closed over his clenched fist, gently stroking the hard line of muscles and bones. "I'm glad you did."

Spike started, jerking his hand away. He stared at her, wide-eyed and fearful. "Don't... don't touch me. You don't need to, shouldn't have to. I'm evil, remember? I..." he trailed off, looking down. "I tried to rape you," he whispered.

They both winced at the guttural sound of the word. Harsh, hurtful, painful... just like their relationship. What a perfect end to such a twisted connection. It could have been better -- it should have been better, for the both of them. Their relationship could've ended better than it had. Their relationship itself should have been better than that. And Buffy couldn't pass it off onto someone else -- most of the downward spiral had been her fault anyway.

Too late. Always too late.

Buffy reached for him again, this time cupping his chin, stroking his smooth, angled cheek with the back of her hand. "You tried," she agreed. "You didn't--"

"Because you stopped me!" he cried. "The only reason I stopped was because you kicked me into the bloody wall! Buffy, what if you hadn't? What if you'd been too hurt to... to do anything, what if you couldn't have stopped me, and what if I couldn't have stopped? Hell, I couldn't stop! Buffy, I would have raped you, and I wouldn't have even been aware! You were damned lucky you managed to kick me away!"

Buffy stood up again, staring down at him. "Well, Spike, what the hell do you want me to say? That you fucked up? Yeah, you did, there's no way to smooth that over. But I fucked up, too. I used you, I twisted you, I stuffed you into a fucking closet and pulled you out when I needed you for a good release like a dildo! So don't bullshit me and say that it was all your fault! What the hell kind of person would I be if I let you take all the blame?" She dropped back down to her knees and cupped his chin, lifting his head so his gaze was level with hers.

"Spike... all you did was love me, and all you wanted was for me to love you back. And I ignored your feelings. I used you, selfishly, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I know you love me, you've shown me more than once, and I tried to pass it off as obsession and lust.” She shook her head regretfully, biting her bottom lip. “You tried your best to protect me... like when the Trio made me think I'd killed Katrina. You just wanted to stop me from turning myself in so I'd still be there for Dawn. In the end, I found out I hadn't even killed her at all.
“And you wanted to take care of me,” she continued, gazing at him in pure awe. “No one’s ever taken care of me – or wanted to – the way you have before. The only one close enough was Mom, and I hope to God that I didn’t give her as much a hard time as I did you. You tried to get me to quit the burger stand job, remember? You said you could get money, and you told me that I was too good to work there. You were just trying to take care of me then. And I'm sorry I didn't stop and listen to you, hear what you had to say."

Sighing softly, she pulled him toward her, resting her head against his shoulder. "I can't forgive myself now, for the things I did to you. But maybe I can start if you forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, and you don't have to mean it, but I just need to hear it to get on the right foot, Spike." She tilted her head up, sparkling green eyes scanning his face hopefully. "I'm so sorry, Spike. Will you please forgive me?"

Spike was quivering. These words, these kind, apologetic words that were pouring out of his beloved Slayer's mouth, were for him. He, Spike, who had caused her more pain than... well, than anything, or anyone. Well, maybe not more than Angelus, but Spike still ranked up there, he thought. There had been a point in time when he'd hated her so much that he'd lived for nothing but her pain, both physical and emotional. Now he could barely stand it if she so much as stubbed her toe. He'd tried to rape her, he'd betrayed her trust in the worst possible way, and she was asking him to forgive her. How the hell did that work? How could he bestow forgiveness on her, when he'd gotten everything he'd deserved from her? How could he even have the right to forgive her when he'd tortured her so much?

How could he forgive her when he couldn't even forgive himself for a single thing in his century-plus-twenty-two years?

But that look she was giving him... that look was hopeful, and desperate, and begging and pleading... She wanted him to forgive her, even though he'd been the one to eternally fuck things up between them.

Well... he'd never been able to deny her anything before. Even though he didn't feel he had the right to bestow forgiveness on her... it was what she wanted. And he'd always do whatever she wanted.

His lips cracked open, and his cool, moist tongue darted out to refresh them, before he whispered, sincerely, "I forgive you, Buffy." But can you forgive me? he thought dismally.

The smooth, golden hand touched his face again, and his attention jerked toward her. Her tiny hand clasped his large one, and Buffy brought it slowly to her lips, kissing the back of it gently. Her eyes were sparkling again as she looked up at him. And almost like she'd read his mind, she whispered, "I forgive you, Spike."

His chest convulsed. Had she... she had just... Holy hell... she really had.

Either he'd died for the second time, and was mixed up in the afterlife, or Buffy had finally gone insane.

He chanced another glance at her, her wide, loving eyes, her soft, smooth lips curving up into a gentle smile...

She was serious.

Oh, damn, he was dead. There was no way on earth the real Buffy would forgive him for the things he'd done to her. For the things he'd plotted doing to her before he'd even met her, when she'd simply been known to him as 'Slayer' instead of 'Buffy,' his love, his life.

Well, if he was dead, this was better than being on earth.

He let out a soft sob of relief and dropped his head to her shoulder, snuggling into the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, grabbing her tightly.

He felt her smile and she reached up to gently stroke his hair, her smile growing wider when he butted his head against her hand like a cat. "It's all right, Spike," she murmured soothingly, pulling him close. "It's all right now... you're safe, you're forgiven." He felt her lips press a kiss to his forehead, and he purred, snuggling closer.

After a moment, he peered up at her, biting his lower lip hopefully. It was such a childish thing to do, and the sight of it made him look so sweet that Buffy had to smile. "I still love you," he whispered. "I really do... I mean, I know you'll not feel anything for me... you don't love me... but just so you know... I still do. Love you.”

Buffy's smile grew. "I know, Spike. I know you do. And I realized it a while ago... right after you left." The corner of her mouth drooped, and she gave him a half-smile. "You know me. Queen of Denial. Of course I wouldn't figure it out until you were gone. But I know, Spike. I know you love me." Her hand reached up to stroke his hair again. "And I love you, too."

---

Spike's eyes shot wide open, and he stared up in disbelief where Buffy was... wait. Where Buffy had been. She was gone now. He looked down around himself and frowned. Crumpled bed sheets. He wasn't anywhere near the sarcophagus. Buffy hadn't found him, courtesy of the Big Mouth he called 'Dawn.' Buffy had never been there.

Bloody hell. Of course it would be a dream.

He sighed and leaned back, his spirits dampened. But then a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. What a dream it had been though. Buffy had said she'd loved him.

It was more than he ever could have wanted.

Sighing, he snuggled back into the sheets, grabbing his pillow 'round the middle and hugging it close. His head fell down into the little crook he'd made—a substitute for Buffy's neck, he supposed—and smiled slightly.

His dreams lately were filled with terror and pain and guilt from his past actions, but on the off-chance that the soul wasn't being a self-righteous bitch about his sins, it tended to give him a rare, precious few good dreams. When it did, they usually meant something important. And he couldn't think of anything more important than what his Dream-Buffy had just told him.

Even if he never saw her face-to-face again, the reassurance and love he felt from those final five words she'd spoken in his dream would be enough to sustain him for the next century and a half.

He rather liked the dreams now.

---

She was never going to set foot in an airport ever again.

Dawn had sulked the whole way there, refusing to understand exactly why she had to go at all. Buffy had been livid with emotion, like she was being attacked and torn apart from every direction inside. There was the anger at Dawn because of her blatant refusal tonight to be mature about why Willow would be staying with them for the time being, not to mention her vamp attack the night before, as well as sympathy because she knew why Dawn was acting this way. There was her colossal relief at seeing Giles again. Her apprehension towards Willow, because she wasn't sure which Willow she was going to get -- monosyllabic, moody Willow, or (mind the pun) Weeping Willow. Then there was her annoyance and irritation with Xander, who was understandably nervous and heading full-steam into his 'I'm gonna tell bad jokes to lighten up the room' stage. Last of all, just before they'd left Revello Drive, Buffy had accidentally knocked Spike's duster from the shelf in her closet. The coat produced the still-lingering scent of its owner upon impact with Buffy's face, and as a result Buffy was currently suffering from a random attack of depression induced by the newest bout of Spike guilt and missage.

Oh, no, she thought sarcastically, I’m definitely putting the past behind me!

Dawn had welcomed Willow back with a scowl and a stiff posture; Giles had received a weary smile and a hug, and after Xander had welcomed the two back, Dawn had dragged him off toward a kiosk to extort numerous amounts of candy and magazines out of him. The rest of the way home after that, any nicety Willow had attempted toward the girl had either been ignored or met with a cold glare.

Well, Buffy thought, by last count, Willow's nearly killed her twice, so I guess it's justified.

It was nearly one in the morning now, and she and Giles were the only ones up. It was a good thing, seeing her Watcher again. She'd been scared as hell the first time he'd left her, forcing her to fend for herself when he and her mother had always been there for her before. She'd been exuberant and relieved when he'd returned in May, despite it having been under such dire circumstances.

Now, as she sat there watching him sip his tea and glower at some inept reporter on the television, she puzzled worriedly over whether to tell him about her Spike-plagued thoughts. Giles had made it no secret that he wasn't fond of Spike though at one point it seemed he'd had infinitely more respect for the blond than he'd had for Angel. Of course, most of that had stemmed from the fact that Angelus had killed Giles' girlfriend and had taken great pleasure in torturing the Englishman both mentally and physically, until Spike had finally put a stop to it.

But Giles' approval of Spike had gone downhill, especially after hearing of Buffy's affair with the vamp last year. She still wasn't sure if Giles realized that most of it had been her own doing. That sleeping with him had been her own conscious decision, and that she'd used him, not the other way around. At first Buffy had figured that sleeping with Spike might shut him up and put a stop to all his nonsense of loving her. But when fucking him into the ground had only proved to make his admissions even more pronounced, she hadn't been able to do anything but break things off. And now with him gone, it seemed safe to admit that she was going absolutely crazy without him.

"Giles?"

The Watcher barely peered up from his glowering. He looked like he was ready to reach through the television set and throttle the news announcer. 'Gang on PCP,' indeed. Someone had apparently been taking lessons from the late but not lamented Principal Snyder and Mayor Wilkins. "Hmm?"

Buffy bit her lower lip nervously. "I... well, um... the past couple of weeks... the whole summer, really. I've been feeling... things. I don't know how to pinpoint what exactly it is I'm feeling, but I know there's... sadness. Anger. Guilt." She glanced up at Giles, who was now watching her attentively. "I mean, it's about a bunch of stuff. The way I acted when I came back... God, I feel like I failed Willow by letting her drown in magick the way she did. I know I failed Dawn last year -- too many instances, way too many to count. And Spike. What I did to… with Spike all last year. I ruined him, Giles. Two years ago, all I wanted was for him to leave town, and..." She sniffed and looked down at her hands, twisting them around each other. "And now that he's really g-gone, I-I can't help but... b-but be miserable. Giles." She glanced back up at her Watcher, tears shining but unshed in her eyes. "I miss him."

Giles stopped with the teacup halfway to his lips, then shot the apprehensive girl a sideways glance. He sighed internally. Oh, dear. He should've remembered. He should have anticipated this.

He shifted in his seat, turning kind, nonjudgmental eyes upon her. What Buffy needed right now was someone to listen to her, not to give the verdict and ruler her insane before she ever even finished talking -- which was probably why she'd waited to ask him until after Xander had gone and Willow and Dawn were asleep. "And?" he prompted gently.

Buffy squirmed around a little, sitting on top of her hands in an effort to not grab a pillow and rip it to shreds in frustration. "And... um... well, I'm not the only one. Dawn misses him, too." She looked up suddenly with desperate eyes. "But why should I miss him? After what he did to me? I feel like he's around all the time, watching me, waiting for me to slip up again, so he can laugh and point and say, 'I warned you,' or something else irritatingly profound to show that... that somehow, someway, he was right, and I was wrong about something." She whimpered. "Make it stop!"

Giles couldn't control the tiny smile that wormed its way onto his lips. When it came to her romances—as of late, anyway—Buffy had a habit of trying to pass the consequences off on other people for advice. He sighed softly, tilting his head slightly to the right. "What would you like me to stop, Buffy?”

She grabbed her head, clutching at her hair. "This! All of it! The pain, the guilt, the nostalgia... for God's sake, Giles, I miss Spike! Evil, soulless, tried to kill me bunches of times, fell in love with me, pain-in-my-ass Spike! Why would I miss him? After everything he's done to me, after everything he's put me through? He's still up here." She pointed at her head. "Still taunting me, and teasing me, and telling me that he loves me, and that I'm never gonna find anyone else after him, because anyone else would never love me as much as he does!”

She took a deep breath. "The night after the first... time." She looked at Giles wearily and, finding him resolutely quiet, continued on. "He told me that after what we'd done, I'd never be able to get him out of my skin. And it feels like he's right, and I don't want that! I want him out, I want him to leave me alone! He's been gone for four months, and he still won't leave me alone, Giles! Why can't I get him out? Why won't he let me be?”

Giles faced her, turning fully in his seat to watch as her big hazel eyes filled with tears. He gestured to her, and in an instant, Buffy had thrown herself at him, burying her face in his chest and crying. He sighed. His poor, brave little girl. Unable to deal with her guilt, unable to deal with her love, unable to give the ones she loved their due.

She was absolutely, positively scared to death of letting another in.

It frightened him, this fact. Somehow, he'd always known it would have come down to this. Buffy had always had too much passion when dealing with Spike, and vice versa. He'd noticed this the first time Spike had come to Sunnydale. When Spike had crashed into the old high school on Parent-Teacher Night Giles had only heard from other sources – particularly Joyce, who had bludgeoned Spike upside the head – about the way the vampire had looked at the young Slayer.

But Giles had finally caught glimpses of the roiling, unrealized passion between the two of them when Buffy had gone to save Angel from Drusilla’s restoration ritual. When Spike had fought Buffy, his eyes had been almost... overwhelmed with desire, and unnervingly connected with hunger. Buffy was what he hoped would be his third recorded Slayer, and he'd been anxious for the thrill of the fight more than anything.

He'd noticed that Buffy and Spike had always been strangely possessive of one another. When it came right down to fighting each other, Spike always went for Buffy, and Buffy never overlooked Spike.

Buffy had even said it herself once: when she'd met Spike, she'd met her match. Spike was every bit her opposite, and at the same time, the only one she truly felt equal to. He matched her strength and skill blow for blow, right down to their battle of wits and smarts. They were cut from the same cloth; the only problem was that Buffy tended to overlook that. Over the years, she seemed to have begun thinking that vampires and demons, and all other supernatural beings without souls, were beneath her. She tended to get carried away when it came down to Spike, her resident chipped-up vampire punching bag.

Giles should've been wiser, should have seen it earlier. Buffy had overcompensated in her disgust toward Spike ever since the 'will be done' spell Willow had cast to make them believe they were engaged.

Buffy had been sobbing in his arms for almost ten minutes, and her tears had only now begun to dry. "Make him go away... make me stop thinking about him, please..." she whimpered quietly, and Giles frowned. He had no idea what to say to her that wouldn't set her off -- another thing that the Slayer and Spike had in common. Both had fiery, uncontrollably short-tempers, and were both as stubborn as asses. The only difference between their characters was that while Buffy denied everything and anything under the sun that didn't fit comfortably into her worldview, Spike was honest -- brutally honest. A day could truly not have gone by without one of his sarcastic words, harsh opinions and blunt speculations.

"Buffy," he murmured gently, nudging her up and off his chest. Giles gazed down at her, warmth and love in his eyes. "What is it, precisely, that you want me to make go away? What... what is it that you feel for him?”

Buffy stared at him, her expression stating her belief that the final apocalypse would very well come with the words she said. "Love?" she questioned more than stated, her voice breaking at the end. "I think... I don't know... do I love him? Do I even want to?" She looked down. "I shouldn't. It's wrong. I mean, God, you've told me how wrong it is so many times. I shouldn't still want him after all that's happened. I shouldn't feel like my heart is being ripped in half every time I look at his duster, or when I hear his name. I shouldn't feel this way. But I can't stop... I can't help it, Giles." She stared at him, defeated.

Giles' head bowed, weighed down with his guilt. It was his fault that Buffy was having such a difficult time understanding and accepting her current feelings. He felt his own demon deep inside his breast - one that had been there since the night Buffy had admitted to him her part in Angelus's reemergence. The beast blamed Buffy for loving the pillock, for setting him free, and for his beloved Jenny's murder at the vampire's hands. Their mismatched little group had welcomed the bastard in -- Giles had let down his guard on the off chance that they could really trust him and then just like that, the prick had betrayed them.

Though Giles had long since forgiven Buffy for her role, it appeared that the beast within him had not. It had manifested itself in the way Giles had taught her. And sadly, she'd been so eager and desperate to never disappoint him again that she had listened to every prejudiced opinion that had passed his lips with open ears.

Unfortunately for Spike, Giles' own personal Angel-inspired discriminations had found their way into the children's minds, so that when Spike had truly begun changing he had been shot down and discouraged at every turn. And now that Buffy had finally realized her true feelings for the vampire, she feared that as her pseudo-father, Giles would denounce her, or worse.

As her pseudo-father, Giles could no longer bear the thought of hurting his little girl anymore.

Her flood of tears had broken open the door labeled 'Spike Emotions' that she'd kept so well hidden over the last few years. And for once, not only was she thinking clearly when it came to Spike... but also she was being honest. With Giles, and with herself. It was because of this that Giles only reacted with a loving hug when she announced, "I... think I'm in love with him.”

She sniffled, pulling away and putting her face in her hands. "Only I realized it too late. Again. And he's gone. He's just..."

Her head shot up as she heard the floorboards creak upstairs. Giles followed her gaze, and after a moment, he heard it too. A thump sounded on the roof above the porch, and Buffy frowned. The only people who had ever been foolish enough to ever climb onto the porch roof were Angel, herself, and...

Her eyes widened and she dashed up the stairs. Rounding the corner, she burst into her old room, then winced and crept slowly to the window when she remembered that Willow was sleeping in there now. Spike didn't know that she had changed rooms; he probably thought she still resided in her old one, and would probably be beyond confused if he found Willow there instead.

Opening the window, she leaned on the tips of her toes and peered out hopefully. "Spike?" she whispered. She glanced around for a full minute, but her vamp detection didn't go off. Not once. Her lower lip trembled and she called his name again. And again. Until she was practically begging.

"Spike, come back... please come back," she whimpered.

Ten minutes later, she sighed and lowered her head. If she stayed here any longer she was going to wake up Willow. And it looked like her begging was a bust. If it had been Spike, he'd probably high-tailed it the second he'd heard her feet pound up the steps. And if it hadn't been... well, she'd just been imagining things again.

Shaking her head, she left her old room, then moved down the hall to poke open Dawn's door. Her eye scanned the purple-drenched bedroom all over until it glanced toward the bed and --

Her insides froze. Dawn wasn't in bed. And the window was open. Buffy's teeth clenched. Oooh, she was gonna kill the little brat. That was what the thump on the roof had been. Dawn had snuck out the window and down the tree. Buffy groaned to herself. "Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have let her catch me all those times. She's turning into me!”

She jogged down the stairs, nearly jumping out of her skin when Giles stopped her. "What is it, Buffy?"

The Slayer sighed. "We have an escapee on our hands. Dawn snuck out. And I think I have a vague idea of where she might be. Stay here so Willow won't be alone." She walked to the hall and grabbed her coat. "I'll go and see if I can find her before some Big Bad tries to make her into Snack Sizes.”

---

"Gin!"

Spike scowled. "Damn it, Nibblet, that's not fair!" He leaned over her, attempting to see her cards. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How the hell d’you figure you managed that?"

Dawn grinned and whapped him on the nose with the cards. "Luck?"

Spike snorted. "Sheer dumb luck. Wicca Girl hasn't been teachin' you magic or nothin', has she?"

Dawn glared at him, her features turning stone cold. "No. I told you. I refuse to have anything to do with her. Every time she gets near me, she seems to want to kill me. And I'm getting really sick of every evil baddy trying to use me as a pawn in their game against Buffy!"

Spike held up his hands in surrender, backing away. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Just askin', 'Bit."

She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I know."

Spike smirked, then his eyes lit up and he jumped up. "I got somethin' for you."

The teenager's patented 'ooh, prezzies' Look took over her face. "Really? What? Anything cool? Dragon fang or something?"

The vampire turned and stared at her strangely. "No... CDs."

Dawn grinned. "Ooh! Even better!"

Spike shook his head. It wasn't very often that a sixteen-year-old girl could scare the crap out of him.

He went over to his dresser, pulling out the two discs he had scoured the music store for. Walking over, he handed them to Dawn, watching as her face lit up, before the frown appeared.

"Wait... I already have this CD. And Buffy's got this one, I can borrow it anytime. Why're you giving these to me?"

Spike grinned. "You let me borrow yours, 'member? An' Buffy... in a way... kind of let me borrow the other."

Dawn raised her eyebrows. "In what way did she 'kind of' let you borrow it?"

"In the way that she doesn't know I nicked it."

"Figures."

Spike growled at her. "Sod off.”

Dawn let loose a peal of laughter, then took a closer look at the CD before looking up at Spike in confusion. "But these are new. I've had Linkin Park for about two years already."

Spike's upper lip quirked. "Uh, yeah. That's 'cos, uh, well... Clem sat on 'em."

Dawn's eyes widened. "Clem sat on them so you went and bought us new ones?"

Spike shrugged. "Uh, yeh. I did."

A grateful smile came onto her face, before being replaced once again with a frown. "Clem sat on them?!"

Spike chuckled. "Jus' before I left. Plopped down right on top of 'em, the big behemoth, heard 'em crack. Stood up and CD pieces were stuck to his ass."

Dawn snorted. "Eww... I'm glad you didn't try to piece them together for me."

Spike nodded. "So'm I. Had to help Clem get the damn things out, an' that was fun enough."

Giggling, she continued. "Never mind the fact that Buffy would never forgive you if she found out that you 'borrowed' her CD, Clem sat on it, and you had to dig it out of his butt."

Spike glared at her. "Thanks for the support, luv." Not to mention the fact that she's never gonna forgive me anyway.

Comfortable silence for a moment as they restacked the cards. Then, from Spike: "So, ah... how... is Buffy?"

A-ha! Hint time! Maybe she could get him to actually listen to her this time. "Depressed, mostly. She can't sleep too well. And, like I told you before, she's been really mopey since you've been gone --"

Spike sighed. "Bit..."

Innocence all around. "What? You asked me how she was, and I'm telling you!"

Spike frowned at her. "Pidge, I can't come out in the open an' face her, you know that. She needs me to leave her alone, an' comin' after her to try an' make her feel better doesn't exactly qualify as leavin' her alone.”

Upstairs, the crypt door opened and shut, but Spike didn't hear, because Dawn was suddenly wailing.

"Spike, please! She needs to see you, I know she does! She's doing so well, but every time someone mentions your name she resorts to Mute!Girl. And it really, really sucks, because in a way you're holding her back. She needs to see you, she needs to know you're back, so she can get over her poor me-ness, and then maybe you two can, like, forgive each other and get on with it!"

Spike frowned, standing up and moving around her. "Dawn, I can't! She made it bloody obvious that she doesn't want me around, so why should I ruin her perfect little illusions by poppin' right back up an' pissin' her off all over again? What the hell's the point? Why should I do that to her?"

Dawn pouted. "Spike, she misses you. You know she does, you know you miss her too! So stop with the missing and get with the loving already! Just. Go. See her!"

Spike spun and looked at her, his back to the steps. "NO, Dawn! She doesn't need me around, doesn't want me around, an' I'm not about to fuck up her life again! She's gonna find me soon anyway, an' when she does, I'm as good as dust. Just leave it be. At least now I might stand a chance, fight back a little bit, but when it's over Buffy's gonna finish me off. I'm done for, and it's better that way. I love her too much to stand in her way, and I'm not about to -- " He stopped, seeing that she'd lost her focus on him. She didn't look remotely interested anymore. In fact, she looked downright terrified. "Bit? Sweet? What is it?"

Dawn swallowed hard and pointed behind him. And suddenly, Spike was rushed with an onslaught of emotion. Dread filled him as the familiar tingling ran up his spine. He turned around slowly and stared at the steps in absolute fear.

The young, blonde woman standing on the steps gaped at him with something akin to awe and heartbreak.

"Spike?”




To be continued.....