Notes: Some dialogue from Shadow has been used in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine, all Joss.

And the Dream Will Set You Free
Chapter Five

*****
The Slayer was acting strange.

Maybe she’s possessed, Spike thought.  It was actually the third time he’d considered that possibility, and it didn’t seem any more likely this time than it had before.  He touched the burning tip of his nearly-spent cigarette to the fresh one, then ground the end out under his boot before nudging it off the step and into the grass.  Taking a heavy drag, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees once more.

There was quite a little pile of mashed filters just off to the side of the porch steps, and an empty cigarette pack crumpled and abandoned by his hand.  The pack had been all but brand new at the start of the night.

Slayer’ll probably have a fit if I leave that there, he thought, blowing out a stream of smoke, and couldn’t decide if that’s what he wanted or not.

She’d offered to let him stay on the sofa.  She’d let him see her vulnerable, had cried on his shoulder, and offered him the sofa.

And he accepted.

Clearly, there was an apocalypse looming.

It hadn’t been all that late when he’d walked past on his way to kill something and try to forget about all the things he’d dredged up along with what the Slayer had wanted to know.  It had been an hour or so later when she had started talking about what was going on with her mum.  It had been even later when she’d said she was going to bed, and that if he wanted, he could stay for the rest of the night… and the day.

“The sofa’s got to be more comfortable than that stone slab you usually sleep on.”

“If you want to stay, I’ll bring down pillows and a blanket… oh.  And one for the windows, too…”

How could a smile be so sad? “It’s another way to say ‘thank you’ for everything you… tonight.  And I’d do this for any of my other friends…”

The Slayer… counted a notorious vampire among her friends.  One without a soul, mind.

Armageddon must be right ‘round the corner…

But even on top of the way the Slayer was acting, there was more.  There was the way he was acting.  He didn’t hate the chit any more, didn’t want her dead, or even hurt, if tonight was any indication.

And that definitely was… troubling.  To say the least.

Wasn’t I the one who told Angelus that demons don’t change?  He drew again on his cigarette, causing it to flare hotly.  It’s the chip.  Gotta be.  It’s already modifyin’ my behavior, not lettin’ me kill… now it’s modifyin’ my feelings, too.

Should have just been an arse.  Should have told her everything I didn’t and not told her what I did… or at least not how I did.  He flicked the ash off his fag and rested his forehead against the backs of his hands.

Except he wasn’t sorry that he’d done it that way, not really.  He knew he should have been, knew that he should have tried to tell it in a way that would hurt her as much as possible… but he just couldn’t help but think that it had been better this way than just about any other.

Just wanna stay on her good side, he told himself, taking another lungful of smoke.  Easier not bein’ her punchin’ bag.

But now, he wasn’t sure if he could take the nice Slayer, either.  Not when she did the kind of things she’d done tonight.  She’s gonna drive me ‘round the bend.  Slayers aren’t supposed to be nice to the vampires… aren’t supposed to cry all over them…

Really, though, it wasn’t the Slayer who was going to send him to Bedlam; he was going to do it to himself.  He wanted the Slayer to be nice, to treat him with something like kindness and respect.  That, of course, had been the whole reason why he’d said he’d help her.

He just hadn’t expected that it would feel like this.  He hadn’t expected to want it the way he did, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

My own bloody fault, too, he thought, staring contemplatively at the glowing tip of his cigarette.  If I’d just kept my mouth shut, she might have staked me, or I might have run off, but I wouldn’t be here.  And I wouldn’t have run through an entire pack of fags in one night.

He took one last drag off his cigarette before crushing it out.  I should just leave, he told himself, slowly releasing the smoke from his lungs.  Be easier that way.  Things would all settle back the way they used to be.  She’d hate me, I’d hate her…

Yeah, right.  He snorted and wished he’d thought to put an extra pack in his coat before storming out to the Bronze.  I guess it doesn’t matter if she goes back to hating me or not, because I’m still not going to be able to hate her.

She’d called him her friend, and that was something he’d never had in all his long, lonely years.

He stood up then, and looked up at the stars, fading slowly as the sky started to lighten.  “That still doesn’t mean you’re right, Princess,” he told them softly, and wondered if Drusilla would actually hear his words.

A few hours later, when Buffy tiptoed downstairs, she couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face when she peeked into the living room.  Spike was sprawled over the sofa, asleep, a blanket swathed around him.

***
Riley wasn’t sure he liked the mental picture he was getting.

When he’d gone over to the Summers’ house to meet Buffy and let her know how last night’s patrol had gone, it had been bad enough finding Spike sacked out on the sofa.  It had been even worse when the peroxided pest, in the midst of the verbal sparring that was all he was really capable of now, had let fall the information that Buffy had taken Joyce to the hospital… and that he’d known about it before Riley had.

Out of it all, that was what galled him the worst.  Not only had Buffy not tried to get in touch with him, but she’d told Spike, of all people.  At least I had the pleasure of throwing him out before I
left, he thought, feeling a great deal of satisfaction.  With any luck, he’s already dust.

The possibility made him feel a little better, despite how Spike had protested that Buffy had said it was okay that he stay…

He saw Buffy and Dawn in the hallway, not too far from the room their mother had been assigned for her observation stay.  Buffy was running her fingers through Dawn’s hair and staring off into space.  They both looked tired.  Somehow, Dawn had curled up in her chair, leaning back over the arm so that her head was resting against her sister’s shoulder.

Buffy looked up when he came to a halt in front of them, but she didn’t get up.  Dawn was actually asleep, he saw now.

Buffy gave him a smile that didn’t even come close to her eyes.  “Hey,” she said softly, and reached up with her free hand to clasp one of his.  “Glad you’re here.”

Well, I would have been here sooner if you had told me instead of Spike, he thought, and was surprised and guilty at the venom it contained.  Quickly, he shoved those thoughts away and hunkered down in front of Buffy, squeezing her hand.  “Any word yet?”

Buffy glanced down the hall and bit her lip.  “No, not yet,” she said quietly.  “I was just about to go to see…” She looked back up at him, eyes wide and pleading.  “Would you stay with Dawnie?  She didn’t get a lot of sleep last night…”

Riley nodded.  “Sure, whatever you need.”  He helped her shift Dawn, then slid into Buffy’s seat once she’d vacated it.  She gave him a trembling smile and strode down the hall, her shoulders set and stiff, as if she were going into battle.  He watched her go, and couldn’t help but wonder what the real reason was that Spike was in her house.

He remembered what Xander had told him about Angel.  And you know what? I’m liking this picture less and less all the time.

But she wouldn’t do that, he told himself, and even to him, it sounded defensive.  She hates Spike.  She wouldn’t.  Right?

***
When Giles entered the Magic Box, he was a little surprised at the sounds he could hear drifting from the training room, of flesh thudding dully against the heavy bag.  He glanced at Anya, who had greeted him somewhat less cheerily than usual.  It must have been a slow half hour since the shop opened, he thought wryly.  Curious as to why Buffy was in the back room as opposed to the hospital, and somewhat concerned owing to Joyce’s message the previous evening, he continued through the shop toward the back room.

“I wouldn’t go back there if I were you,” Anya warned him, without looking away from noting down the money in the register.

Giles paused.  “Why on earth not?”

Before Anya could answer, he heard a distinctly masculine grunt, followed by a much louder and harder blow.  Instantly, a vicious “bloody hell!” colored the air blue, almost more deafening than the clatter and thunk of the heavy bag hitting the floor.

“Spike, I told you once already that I am not wrapping up your hands again,” Anya called, her pencil moving quickly over a column of figures.  “And I’m also not helping you hang the bag this time.  Once is more than enough.”

The growl that sounded from the training room was enough to have Giles searching in vain for a stake, though it didn’t seem to faze Anya in the slightest.

“I mean it, Spike.”  Quickly jotting down her figure, she moved on to another column.  “Go to sleep, already.  Vampires are supposed to sleep during the day.”

This time, a sullen silence was her only answer.

Glancing between the door to the back room – open only slightly – and his sales clerk, Giles discovered that he was amazed, as much at Anya’s apparent lack of fear as the unexplained presence of the vampire in his shop.  “Whatever is Spike doing here?” he asked, removing his glasses.  “And why is he…”

Noting down a second figure, Anya replied, “I don’t know.  He was in the back when I got here, but I don’t think he’d been here very long.  I think he’s doing what Buffy does back there sometimes – blowing off steam.  He’s very angry for some reason and his curses are scaring away the money.”

“Oi, Watcher.”

Giles blinked and discovered that while he stared at the door, frowning thoughtfully, Spike had stepped out.  The vampire hung back, not quite daring to cross into the more brightly lit areas of the shop, and Giles’ frown intensified at his appearance.  He was, oddly enough, without his leather coat.  His hair, normally heavily gelled into submission, was curling slightly.  If he’d been human, Giles would have said that he was flushed from the exertion of pounding on the bag, but he wasn’t panting – he’s not even breathing – and there was a smudge of black on his brow and over one cheek.

“Anya said you’d be able to get me some blood and some fags.  Said she couldn’t leave the shop ‘cause that’d mean closin’.”

“She did, did she?” He eyed his employee, who, rather than bending more keenly to her task as any normal person would do to stave off the boss’s evil eye, took the opportunity to grin brightly.

“Of course I did!  I sell more things than you, therefore I’m more valuable to the store.  Logically speaking, you’d be the one to go.”

“Of course.  And does the fact that I actually own the store mean nothing?” Rounding on Spike, he added, “That means I am not the errand boy…”

Spike’s face gave away nothing as he clenched his fists and quickly released them.  “Right, then,” he said, his tone icy.  “I assume I’ll be allowed to stay if I’m a good li’l boy and don’t do anything to scare off the gits who’re doin’ the buyin’.” Looking from Anya to Giles, he nodded and spun on his heel to re-enter the back room, not quite slamming the door as he did.

Frowning once more, Giles stepped forward, picking up the piece of paper that had fluttered to the floor as the vampire stalked away.  It was a much crumpled ten dollar bill, and Giles studied it and the closed door by turns.  Gradually, he started to wonder if the backs of Spike’s hands had really been charred black, or if it was a trick of the shadows.

***
“We’ve done quite enough making things worse for one day, haven’t we?”

Buffy couldn’t miss the way the tension around the table suddenly kicked up at Anya’s words.  None of her friends would look at her, or at each other; they all quickly averted their gazes, mostly staring nervously down at the table.  “What?” she asked wearily, slumping back into her chair. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take; the fact that her mother had a brain tumor was so much more than she could cope with.  “What happened?”

“Nothing that you need concern yourself with,” Giles replied, but Buffy could read Giles-speak in his body language, and he was already reaching up to take off his glasses.

That can’t be of the good, she thought, and sighed.  “C’mon, spill it.”

“What, you lot aren’t going to tell the Slayer about what went on today whilst she was at hospital?  You were wittering on about it loud enough a while ago.  Woke me up.”

Buffy’s eyes flew to the door into the training room, and she smiled for what felt like the first time in forever.  Spike was lounging carelessly in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, arms crossed.  His eyes swept coolly over the group at the table, one eyebrow arched in question.

Giles rolled his eyes heavenward.  “Yes, thank you, Spike,” he muttered.

Buffy’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood, quite suddenly remembering where she had last seen the vampire.  “Hey, I thought you were going to… stay…” Approaching him, her words trailed off at the distinctly cold glare he shot her.

“And how would you know about that, Fang Face?” Xander demanded.

Straightening a little, Spike huffed and gestured with one hand.  “Vampire?  Keen hearing and… ow!” He yelped as Buffy grabbed his waving hand.  He tried to yank it away, but she quickly changed her grip to his wrist, tightening it so he couldn’t escape.

“What happened to your hands?” she gasped, staring down at the scorched skin on the back of his hand.  A sick feeling started to roil up in her stomach, even on top of all the gut-wrenchingly bad news about her mother.  Her fingers hovered over the burns that spread out, red and black and ugly, across his flesh, but she didn’t dare touch them again.

When Spike didn’t answer, she looked up at him and saw that sharp, assessing gaze on her, the anger in his face, though now he was frowning as if confused.  “Got burned, as you can see,” he said at last, and his voice was so devoid of any warmth that it made her shiver.  He pulled away from her slackening hold.  “So, Watcher, gonna tell the Slayer how you buggered it up this time?”

Buffy turned to her Watcher, hoping to cover her distress at Spike’s abrupt dismissal of her concern.  “Giles?”

Giles sighed.  “Yes.  The… the demon woman was here today, the one who attacked you.”

In an instant, fear surged up inside her, and she studied every one of them closely, looking for injuries… or other injuries.  “Oh, God… Are you all right? Did she hurt you?” Before she finished speaking, she had turned to look at Spike, suddenly wondering if the bitch had been the one to cause the burns on his hands.  “Is that…”

“No, no,” Giles said, gesturing aimlessly with his glasses.  “Thankfully, no violence to speak of.”

Frowning deeply, she glanced at him over her shoulder.  “Then what was she doing here?”

“She… she simply made a purchase and left… an amulet and a-a Sobekian bloodstone.”

“Oooo-kay,” she drawled, puzzled, “so… what kind of bad mojo does she want that stuff for?” C’mon, guys, get to the point!

“Sobekites were an ancient cult.”  Anya started her explanation before Giles could, and drew Buffy’s eyes to her in surprise.  “They were reptile worshipers.  Their high priest had great powers of transmogrification…”

Just then, Willow piped up, “Uh, transmogrification is changing a living thing into some other kind of thing.”

“So these… things that she got…”

“The bloodstone and amulet that Giles sold her,” Anya cut in, lowering her voice slightly over Giles’ name, as if to keep his guilt a secret.

“A cobra.” Giles raised his voice a little to override her.  “She’s going to-to transform a cobra.”

“Why?” Buffy asked, looking first at Giles, then at Anya.  “What’s this thing gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Giles replied, replacing his glasses.  “We-we’re looking into it…”

“Fine,” Buffy said, her tone hard.  She’d taken too many emotional hits to be as considerate of their feelings as she usually would be.  “You look into it.  I’ll go kill it.” She spun toward the door, but not before casting a look at Spike that betrayed her hurt and bewilderment.  What did I do?  I haven’t even talked to him today until now…

“Buffy, are you sure that’s wise?” Giles wasn’t exactly frowning at her, but it was a near thing.  “None of us know…”

“Giles…” She paused on the steps to the door, her tone full of exasperation.

Xander stood up, coming around the table.  “Buffy, this chick creamed you last time…”

“Stow it.” Spike’s low command carried through the shop.  “She needs to go.”

The words startled her, and she turned from the door to stare at him.  How did he know? Without quite realizing what she was doing, Buffy crossed back through the shop, halting in front of the vampire who still stood in the entry to the training room.  She was not oblivious to the many eyes upon her, but she didn’t really care about them, either.

“Slayer?” He spoke softly, and there wasn’t much of his previous anger in his tone.

The words that had formed on the tip of her tongue melted away, because as much as she wanted to know how he knew that she had to go do something, she wanted to know just what she’d done to make him so mad at her.  “I thought… I thought we were okay?” she asked, unable to keep the depth of her own upset from her voice.  “What happened?”

Spike tilted his head slightly to one side, studying her intently for a long moment.  “Tell you later,” he replied at last, and she was relieved that he sounded almost normal.  “After you get done killin’ whatever the snake charmer calls up.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  “Okay.”

She felt his eyes on her back until she closed the outside door.

***
After the Slayer left, Spike had returned to the back room, though he could not fall back to sleep.  Instead, he just kept out of sight, trying not to think and failing miserably, until the phone ringing drew him back to the door.  The Watcher had answered it, and from the concerned look he wore, Spike knew he was talking to the Slayer, even without getting close enough to try to hear her side.

When the Watcher hung up the phone, Spike stood by the counter.  “I’m guessin’ she didn’t kill it,” he said quietly.

Even so, Giles jumped a little at the sound of his voice.  “No.  She didn’t.  She – um, she said Dawn would be by soon.”  He pulled off his glasses and thoughtfully tapped one earpiece against his mouth.  “I suspect that we’ll be quite thankful for your presence, if it comes to that.”

Spike snorted and turned away.  “Yeah.”

“Spike…”

Grudgingly, he faced the Watcher again, and raised his eyebrow at the way his face had turned pink.  Before he could make a comment, the bell over the door rang and the Watcher bustled out from behind the counter, heading toward the prospective customer.

“Earlier, you dropped… I-I’ve put it down behind the counter…”

Frowning, because he couldn’t recall having dropped anything, Spike ducked behind the counter.  He found a small container of blood and a pack of cigarettes – not his usual brand, but good enough – and smirked at the sight.  Of course, the Watcher couldn’t just say that he was brow-beaten by his own employee into buyin’ this stuff for the evil vamp; ol’ tosser’s gotta save face somehow.  Still grinning, he caught Giles’ eye as he straightened and quickly took the blood and fags into the back room.

He’d gotten through the blood, but only two smokes when he heard the Slayer’s sister arrive.  He stubbed the second one out and tossed it into the alley behind the store before closing the door and wandering back into the shop proper, shrugging into his coat as he went.

The girl had dropped her bag on the table and was questioning Giles with a tenacity that was only too familiar.  “What do you mean she didn’t tell you what the results of the surgery were?  Mom must have been awake for hours by now!” Dawn’s arms were crossed over her chest, and she was all but tapping her foot in impatience.

Definitely the Slayer’s sis, Spike thought, smirking again at the sight of the Watcher tongue-tied in the face of his adolescent inquisitor.  Suppose I better rescue him.  “Leave off, platelet.  The
Watcher said he didn’t know.”

Dawn’s face brightened.  “Hey, Spike!” Then, in a mercurial shift of mood very reminiscent of her sister, she frowned.  “Hey, I thought you were…” Suddenly she stopped, and her eyes slid over to Giles, blatantly indicating that she’d forgotten that this might be something he wasn’t supposed to be privy to.  “Uh…”

“Not you, too,” Spike muttered.  Just like the Slayer.  “You know, Big Sis won’t let you hang out here if you don’t start your lessons,” he said, attempting to redirect both the girl and the Watcher.  “Maybe Rupes will be able to help you with your history.”  He grinned as the Watcher rolled his eyes and took a sip of tea.

“Oh, I think you’d be much better help, seeing as how it was all current events for you,” Dawn averred, with a wicked grin.

There was a distinct chuckle from Giles’ direction, which he quickly tried to cover with a cough.  “Strange as it may seem, and the heavens may fall, Spike is correct,” he said.  “Buffy said she’d be by to take you back to the hospital in a while, but in the meantime, you might as well…” He gestured toward the abandoned school bag.

Dawn sulked, but did as she was told.  In fact, there was rather less homework done than there should have been, and rather more staring blankly off into space.  However, Giles didn’t call her to task for her distraction, nor did any of the other Scoobies, still milling about.  Poor little bit, Spike thought, watching her from his seat on the ladder to the forbidden section.  Too worried about her mum to concentrate. Then, quite suddenly, he recalled the truth.  ‘Cept it’s not her mum, is it?  I wonder if the Slayer has told her the truth… At this point, though, it’d probably do the chit more harm than good.

Then he was forced to wonder why he cared.

The jangle of the bell grated on his nerves and jolted him out of his reverie.  The Slayer had arrived, and within seconds, Dawn had practically launched herself at her.

“Can I see Mom now?” Dawn pulled away from the Slayer’s embrace a little.

The Slayer gave her a sad little smile and nodded.  “Yeah, we can go see her.  Get your stuff.”  As Dawn turned away to stuff her books back into her bag, the Slayer caught Spike’s eye and tilted her head, almost as if she was silently asking him to go with them.

Before he could even formulate a response, the plate glass window at the front of the store shattered, and a giant snake leapt through the opening.  It had rudimentary arms, was longer than a human was tall, and had the familiar flared hood of a cobra.  That was what gave it away as the demon bint’s snake-y creation.  It slithered forward, moving quickly, belying its very size.

As soon as the others saw what it was, chaos erupted.  The thing’s lashing tail knocked over a heavy shelf onto the Slayer, spilling the displayed merchandise and pinning her beneath its weight.  Harris shoved Anya behind another shelf, and Red and her girl ducked behind the counter.  The Watcher had just come up from the basement storeroom and was trapped by the witches.

The snake-creature undulated closer, tongue flickering, its movements light and rapid, its gaze fixed on Dawn, who was shrieking in fear.

He had been stunned by the creature’s appearance, but when it rose up above Dawn, as if it were about to attack her, Spike leapt off the ladder.  He reached Dawn in two strides and shoved her none-too-gently behind him, demon face rippling into place as he did.

He was in the best position, therefore, to see the thing’s eyes glow.  It hissed, though whether the sound was in anger or not was anyone’s guess, then turned and was gone as quickly as it had come.

Dawn’s screams were abruptly muffled as the Watcher drew her into his arms, having made his way around the witches at last.

The Slayer pushed the shelf off her, only a moment too late, as the tip of the thing’s tail disappeared through the window.

“Why was the giant snake afraid of Dawnie?” he heard Red wonder aloud, and turned to find her staring at the space where the creature had been.

Not afraid of her, he realized suddenly, but looking for her!

“Spike! It knows!” The Slayer’s voice was whip-crack sharp, and she was already out the door by the time he shook off his thoughts.

Thing moves fast… won’t be able to keep up…“Quick, Watcher!” he barked.  “Your car keys!”  In a moment, they were arcing through the air, and Giles didn’t even sputter in protest.

The Watcher’s sporty little skirt-chaser was a nice bit of speed.  He caught up with the Slayer in moments, but the snake was another matter.  It was fast, and tried to lose them by slithering through spaces the car couldn’t go.  They careened through Sunnydale, and more than once, Spike had to pull the Slayer back into her seat.

“Hurry, Spike!” The Slayer pounded on the armrest, peering intently through the windscreen.  “It’s getting away!”

“Goin’ as fast as I can,” Spike gritted, and let the tires squeal as he took a corner at speed, throwing the Slayer hard against her door.

The snake followed the road for several blocks, only just out of reach.  Without warning, it dove off to one side, crashing through a fence and into what appeared to be a park.  Spike was a moment behind, and the car bumped as the tires hit the verge.  Before the car had come to a complete stop, the Slayer had leapt over the door and raced through the hole in the fence after the snake.  Within moments, Spike followed, straining to catch up with her.

He was only a few strides behind the Slayer when she grabbed a length of chain from a post, and understood at once what she meant to do with it.  Forcing a bit more speed, he grabbed the trailing end, just to make sure she knew he was there.

They caught up with the snake a few seconds later.  The Slayer ran up the creature’s back and looped the chain around its neck, before dropping off to one side.  “Brace!” she shouted, and dug her heels, pulling hard on the chain.  He matched her on the snake’s other side, the chain abrading his already-abused hands.

The snake didn’t stop trying to move forward, even as its eyes bulged out.  The Slayer hauled again on the chain, and the links dug deeper into its throat, drawing blood.  Its useless arms came up as if to remove it, but couldn’t quite reach.  It started thrashing on the grass, and Spike quickly moved out of the range of its whipping tail, closer to its head, snugging up the chain as well.

Looking across to her, he met her eyes and tilted his head, and she nodded.  As one, they took another step away from the snake, drawing the chain even tighter.  With a noise that was grating and squelching all at once, the snake’s head was messily severed from its body, and both tumbled to the ground with dull thuds.

Slowly, they eased up the pressure on the chain before dropping it.  The Slayer took a slow pace forward, staring down at the dead creature, fists clenched.  Chit probably could have done with something a bit more rough and tumble, Spike thought, watching her.  “You all right, pet?”

“Minimal physical damage,” she replied softly, and wrapped her arms around herself.  “It’s all the other kind.”

In spite of himself, he moved closer to her, not heeding the gore that slicked the grass beneath his feet.  “Bad news about your mum?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.  “Really bad.”  At last she looked up from the corpse and met his eyes.  “She… she could…”

The sound of her sob – harsh in the still night air – made him remember things he’d tried to forget, made him remember how it felt for a child to lose his mother.  Without thinking, he laid his hand on her shoulder, and the Slayer immediately buried her face against his chest.  Her hands rose to grip the lapels of his duster, and her shoulders started shaking.

All at once, it struck him that the one girl in all the world chosen to destroy his kind was just like him.  Remembering his own fear – long enough ago that it almost seemed to belong to a different person – he wrapped his arms around her, and let her cry.

For long minutes, she wept against him, dampening the soft fabric of his tee shirt.  Words spilled out between her sobs, but they were so broken and disjointed that they were nearly impossible to make sense of.  After a while, she started the struggle to regain control, and was shortly hiccupping to a stop.  But she still clutched at the lapels of his coat like a lifeline.

“Better now?” he asked, and why the hell was his voice so gentle?  Like I was talking to Dru in one of her bad states…

He felt her nod against his shoulder, but didn’t let her go.  It felt… strange, but good.  She was warm against his chest, and it reminded him of better times, times when he would have relished the heat of blood, fresh from the source, spiced with fear…

Her warmth made him realize how cold he was.

At last, she raised her head, and he let her go so she could step away if she wanted.  Her face was streaked with tears in the moonlight, and Spike was left wondering just why he had the urge to erase the silvery trails from her cheeks.

“Thank you, Spike,” she whispered.  For an instant, it looked like she had something else to say, but then she released his coat and wiped her cheeks.

“Welcome, pet.”  He stepped back and began patting down his pockets for lighter and smokes, hoping he hadn’t left them in the training room at the magic shop.

Distracted by that, he was surprised when she grabbed his hand again, though this time she didn’t touch the still-burnt flesh.  “So, you were gonna tell me what happened, right?” Though her voice was still thick with the tears she had shed, it still brooked no argument.

Strange how I don’t want to tell her, he thought, looking right into her reddened eyes.  He’d been furious about it before, at her and at Finn.  But her reaction to his injuries earlier – and, even more tellingly, to his wrath – had convinced her that she wasn’t the culprit.  “Captain Cardboard threw me out this morning.”

“Riley… what?” It sounded like she was angry herself now, and wasn’t that something amazing?  The Slayer enraged on behalf of a vampire?

“He came callin’ this morning not too long after you and the Nibblet left with your mum, and decided he needed to assert his manliness, or something,” he said, giving a faint huff.  “Tossed me out, so I pulled up my coat and made a dash for the sewers.”  He shrugged, met her shocked gaze briefly, then looked away again.  “Was lucky it wasn’t worse.  I decided not to go back to the crypt, just in case he wanted to make sure.”

The Slayer’s face was an interesting study.  He could see her anger plainly, and something an awful lot like fear, and something he couldn’t quite identify.

“I… I’m sorry, Spike.  I didn’t know.” Her apology was a mere whisper, but sounded no less heartfelt for that.

It froze him to his center, and for a long minute, he could say nothing.  At last, he managed, “It’s all right, Slayer,” but even to himself, he sounded funny, and the Slayer apparently agreed, based off the puzzled look she gave him.  He cleared his throat, and nodded toward the creature they had killed.  “You ready to get rid of Headless, here?”

“Yeah, I guess.”  The Slayer wiped her hands on her pants, and grabbed the snake-thing’s arms.

They made short work of disposing of the body, then collected Giles’ car and rode in silence back to the Magic Box, each lost in their own thoughts.

***
Certain that Buffy would return to the hospital after picking up Dawn from the magic shop, Riley went back as well.  He was still smarting a little from the dressing down he’d gotten from Xander, and Dawn really hadn’t helped matters that afternoon with her offhand remarks about the drama that was Buffy and Angel, and how Buffy didn’t get that worked up about him.

I’m thinking that I should just avoid Dawn as much as possible from now on, he thought sourly.  Just for the sake of what little ego I have left.

Then he brightened – Buffy had just stepped out of the room he knew belonged to Joyce.  “Buffy!”

She looked up at the sound of her name, and frowned a little bit.  “Riley,” she said, and he got the feeling that she wasn’t really happy to see him, but then he was there, pulling her into his arms.  Or trying to, anyway; she evaded his intended embrace, and stood there in front of him with crossed arms.  “I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.”

“Where else should I be?” he asked, willing his tone to be reassuring, and wincing a bit when it just sounded hurt.  He reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders, coaxing her to relax into his touch as she usually did.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes downcast.  “I… I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

This time, she didn’t resist as he enveloped her in a hug.  He tucked her head against his chest, his hands spanning her back.  “I know, Buffy,” he murmured into her hair.  “It’s a lot to take.  If you want to…”

She shook her head, pushing back against his arms so there was some space between them and resting her hands on his chest.  “No, I’m okay for now.  I barely stopped the last time,” she muttered so softly that Riley wasn’t sure she’d meant for him to hear.

“It’s okay, you know,” he said, lifting her chin so he could look into her face.  His thumb brushed lightly over her cheek, as if smoothing away a non-existent tear, and he leaned forward to kiss her softly.  “Buffy…”

But she ducked her face again, so he only kissed her hair, then she extricated herself from his arms.

“Buffy?” She had never rejected him like this before.  “Have I done something to make you mad?”

Her frown was back, and deeper than before.  “I don’t know, Riley, have you?” The look she gave him was cold enough to make him flinch, before he remembered that she couldn’t possibly know.  “Have you thrown anyone out of my house?  Someone who I had given permission to be there?”

He stared at her, gaping in disbelief.  “This is about Spike?”

“Buffy?” Joyce’s voice floated from the open door behind Buffy.

Immediately, Buffy turned toward her mother’s room.  “We’ll talk later,” she promised him, before closing the door firmly behind her.

At a loss, Riley shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  He had the inexplicable feeling that somehow, he’d lost her… that he’d lost her long before tonight, and he was just now discovering it.

He found his way back to Willy’s bar, and managed to forget that Buffy didn’t need him for a little while.