The Struggle For Good by ya_lublyu_tebya

Chapter #1 - One

One ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shocked was an understatement. What he was feeling in the wake of Buffy’s rejection went so much deeper than that. Far closer to devastated, broken, desperate. He had turned from her door finally, after several long moments staring at the wood, and had stepped down onto the path, feeling as if someone was inching a stake through his chest, one painful inch at a time. He wanted something to drink, something to hit – anything to take away the pain – but at the same time, all he wanted to do was hide in a dark corner and nurse his broken heart. He had known – of course he had known – that she did not feel the same way, that she would not welcome him with open arms. He knew he had gone past reasonable when he had zapped Drusilla and tied them both up, but some tiny part had hoped that the gesture – despite its extremeness – might just have shown how genuine he was in his feelings. It had been a nice fantasy, but the Slayer had only scoffed in his face, dismissed his feelings – and then left with a lovely punch to the nose. And even though he had known it would likely have been better to leave her to calm down, he had followed her, desperately wanting her to understand, to see him for the man he was trying to be – for her. And all he had got for his trouble was some more harsh words, and a door in the face. Somehow, his feet had led him back to his crypt and with leaden steps he went in, slamming the door behind him so that the place shook. He stepped forward, the brief violence doing nothing to assuage the burning in his chest, and dropped to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He would not cry for her. He wanted to hate her, wanted to conjure the old images of her lying in a pool of her own blood at his feet – but it was hopeless to try; he was, as he had told the Slayer himself – drowning in her. He let out a cry – half anger, half pain – and spread his arms, head thrown back. His voice eventually faltered, but he stayed there on the floor, staring at the ceiling as if something would deliver him from this agony. “You shouldn’t play with the sunshine, William.” Her eerie voice drifted over him and he closed his eyes, wishing her away, as he sank back on his heels, arms lowering. “The sunshine doesn’t want to play with you, either,” she murmured with a tinkling laugh, moving closer. “I thought you’d gone,” he got out, too weary to be angry with Drusilla. She stepped closer then and he felt her fingers on his neck, tracing a pattern across the back of his shoulders. “You know I’ll always be with you, my Spike,” she whispered, running her fingers over his hair, “In here…” She stood behind him and lowered her hand, resting it over his dead heart. “And in here.” She bent, nuzzling her head against his, and he found it hard to resist that old comfort. “A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his glory,” Drusilla whispered in his ear, echoing the words she had spoken the night she had killed him. Oh, it was hard to resist her tenderness – always had been. He had not expected to see her again, and in such a good mood, after what he had threatened – but here she was. As always, Drusilla knew exactly how to play him when he was down – just as she had known the exact words to say to the broken-hearted William in that alley, so many lifetimes ago. “She cannot see your glory,” Drusilla whispered, “So she shuts you out of her life.” “I know she feels something,” he found himself saying, unable to stop the words. “She’ll never love you, William,” she whispered, arms twined around him now, rocking him just as gently as she might have done to Miss Edith, her beloved doll, “She’ll never look past the fact that you’re a dirty, evil vampire.” He squeezed his eyes tighter together, fighting back his pain, because he knew that Dru was right. “I love her, Dru.” “An infatuation, my sweet William,” she murmured, her lips brushing over his ear, “It will pass. Mummy can make it pass so sweetly.” She ran her hands down his chest, nails digging into him ever so slightly so he couldn’t help but let out a moan. “Miss Edith told me you would come back to me,” she whispered, fangs scraping over his neck teasingly, “She knew you wouldn’t kill your dark plum.” He had been so certain before, but now he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to go through with his threat, no matter what Buffy’s reaction had been. Drusilla had made him and, in her own strange way, she loved him. Loved him more than the Slayer ever would. He felt her shift as she got to her feet and she rounded him slowly, moving to stand in front of him, bestowing a soft caress upon his cheek. “No more tears, sweet William,” she murmured, running her hand across his eyes. He shook his head unconsciously, leaning into her caress as he opened his eyes, looking up into hers. “Come,” she said, stepping back and holding out her hand with a smile, “Let’s dance, my sweet.” He hesitated – struggling with his own voices: the one telling him that only Dru had ever cared for him, and the other, which told him that if he did this, he would never have a chance with Buffy. He would have erased all of the progress he had made in the last few weeks and months. He would be back to the enemy he had never really stopped being. Raising his troubled eyes to Drusilla’s gaze, he held it for a moment longer – and then took her hand as he pushed himself to his feet. She drew him into her embrace and he let himself sink into it, tightening his arms around her. “Missed you, pet.” She stroked a hand over his hair and held him close. “Of course you did, my naughty boy.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N: So, erm, what do you think? Worth a go?

Chapter #2 - Two

She had shut the door on Spike and turned away quickly, unable to bear the picture of his face, etched with a pain so human it made her pause. Spike couldn’t be in pain, couldn’t be hurt because he was a vampire – without a soul – and therefore he didn’t feel these things. He didn’t feel love either, although he had professed it so ardently. It was a simple fact. Black and white, straight from the Watchers’ Council. So why did she feel so uneasy? Why couldn’t she get his words out of her head? I love you. You're all I bloody think about. Dream about. You're in my gut, my throat. I'm drowning in you, Summers. She shook her head, driving the words away. It was an obsession and nothing more – just like when he had been obsessed with killing her, only with a new twist. “Buffy?” She hadn’t even noticed her mother and Willow’s presence and, startled, she turned to them quickly. “Hi!” “Are you okay?” her mother asked worriedly. “How did it go?” Willow asked. “I…” she paused, unsure what to say, still processing the shock, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Her mother and Willow exchanged a concerned look and she forced a small smile. “I’m just a bit tired. I think I’m going to go to bed. I’ll… I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Her mother nodded and she stretched her smile just a tiny bit wider, before turning and making her way quickly up the stairs, towards the safety of her room. She just couldn’t face them right now, couldn’t pick through every detail of her encounter with Spike, when it was still making her mind reel. She needed time to process it. She was just a few feet away from her door, hand stretched out to take the handle, when a voice stopped her. “What did you tell Mom about Spike?” With a sigh, she turned to face her sister. “What do you want, Dawn? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Dawn frowned at her but then crossed her arms over her chest. “I heard Mom and Willow talking about Spike.” “That’s nice. And?” she got out sarcastically. “Why is it such a bad thing that he’s in love with you?” She paused for the briefest of seconds, and then spoke up in answer. “Why is it a bad thing?! Are you crazy?! He’s a vampire, Dawn. An evil vampire. You don’t seem to get that.” “He’s not evil,” Dawn protested. “You don’t even know him.” “I do so! I know him better than you do.” “Look, whatever. You have to stay away from him.” Dawn squared her jaw and tightened her arms across her chest. “I don’t have to do anything you say.” “Dawn, I’m being serious. Spike is dangerous.” Dawn went to interrupt, but Buffy continued, stopping her. “Drusilla is back in town and I think he’s been feeding again.” “Wha- How?” “It doesn’t matter. But you have to stay away from him, okay?” Dawn opened her mouth, ready to reply, but Buffy stepped forward, taking her arm, regarding her in earnest. “Promise me, Dawnie,” she said seriously, hoping that – just for once – her sister would listen to her. She could not risk Dawn going anywhere near Spike if he was in a volatile state. Dawn hesitated for a moment longer, but then finally nodded slowly. “I promise.” “Thank you.” She let out a long breath and finally turned back to her door, yearning for her bed and some time alone. She took hold of the door handle but Dawn’s quiet voice halted her. “I still think you’re wrong about Spike.” She turned to contradict her sister but Dawn was gone and with a sigh, she pushed her door open and went in. She collapsed onto her bed and curled up in a ball, hugging one of the pillows to her chest. She felt drained – the day’s events catching up on her – and wanted to sleep, but she could not. All she could think about was Spike’s disturbing confession. In her life as the Slayer so far, there had been one constant, one unchanging mark that she could always cling to when the world seemed to be falling apart around her: Spike hated her and wanted her dead. It had been comforting, in a strange way, knowing that she had a mortal enemy. It was something she could trust. Something that never changed, even when everything else in her life did. Except now the illusion had been shattered and she was left with the oddest feeling of betrayal. She had depended on the truth of the fact that - despite his chip and even despite his occasional attempts to help - Spike was on the side of evil, and that was how it was always going to be. She had had no doubt that one day he would successfully rid himself of the chip and she would have to fight him again. Now, all she could do was doubt his every action over the last few weeks, months. How long had he been harbouring this infatuation? How long had he been fooling her with the same old behaviour? She couldn’t think about it any more, seeing hidden motives in everything he had done lately, questioning everything. And now she was angry – at him, for changing the status quo; and at herself, for being so blind, for not putting a stop to this before it got to this stage. Had she led him on in anyway, as her mother had worried? She didn’t think she had – in fact, she couldn’t remember being anything but horrible to Spike. Trust Spike to take that as kindling for his sick obsession. It was yet another example of how twisted vampire psychology was. In fact, today’s events had created a long list of examples – not least the idea that chaining someone up was the best way to induce any sort of warm feelings in them. She shook her head and buried her head in her pillow, wishing she could stop her mind from going over this again and again. After all, she had bigger things to worry about. Number one at the top of the list was the hell god searching for her sister. She let out a groan and sank into her pillow. Remembering she had more important things to worry about certainly helped take her mind off Spike’s revelation, but did little to help her relax. She just hoped Spike had the good sense to stay out of her way for the next month - at least - because with a hell god she couldn’t fight in town, it was all too tempting to freshen up her slaying skill with a good fight – followed by a swift staking.

Chapter #3 - Three

A/N: I apologise for the delay in updating and for not getting round to answering your reviews. Thank you for them and for the encouragement to continue with this. I hope you enjoy this latest update... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He had been sharing his crypt with Drusilla for a week now, and it was almost like old times. Almost. In fact, it was only his shameful secret that made all the difference now – a secret he knew Drusilla was not as clueless about as she pretended to be. It was a secret that haunted him and taunted him in his sleepless daylight hours, prodding at his sense of pride. A secret that made him question himself over and over. This awful secret: he was still living on pig’s blood. He told Drusilla it was because the blood didn’t taste the same without the thrill of the chase but she knew as well as he that he was afraid: afraid of taking a step he didn’t think he could reverse. If he did give in and went on the hunt with Drusilla – as he had once already – he wouldn’t be able to go back. Most importantly, there was no way he would be able to face Buffy again and, despite her harsh rejection, this thought held him back, even as the old bloodlust kept rearing its ugly head. It would be so easy – too easy – to succumb, just as he had on the balcony at the Bronze. He had hesitated for mere seconds then but the temptation had been too strong, the dead girl’s body weighing against him, her bare neck calling to him. It had been so long. He had been deprived of the sweet taste of human blood for long, long months and this, combined with the need to show Drusilla he could still be the vampire he had once been, had made succumbing to temptation all too easy. He could still taste the girl’s blood in his mouth, as if it were just yesterday he had sunk his fangs into her throat, letting out a groan low in his chest as he did so. It was what he had been made to do. It was what he had excelled at for a hundred and twenty years. One mouthful of blood and the old thrill had swept through him, reminding him of why he had relished the life of a vampire so much. The power, that dizzying power over life and death, had set his head spinning and he had finally dropped the girl, looking up with hungry eyes and a bloody mouth as Drusilla smiled over at him, licking the blood from her own lips. Even now – a week on – the memory set every nerve ending abuzz with energy, with hunger and it took every little bit of willpower he had to hold himself back. His demon screamed at him, called him a coward but he fought still, desperately hanging on to the illusion of the person he had tried to become. Not good, but not evil either – someone to help, to be trusted. It was an ideal he had only just started to strive for, but he had been knocked back so soon and now going on seemed like too much hard work. Especially when Drusilla was around, whispering words of sweet temptation in his ear, reminding him of the power he had once held. “I know you’re still in there, my naughty Spike,” she whispered, “I know you want to come out and play.” “I don’t feel like it tonight,” he lied. “Oh, naughty, naughty,” Drusilla chided, shaking her head at him, “My poor, confused William.” She moved behind him where he sat in his armchair and laid her fingers against his temples. “You so wanted to be good. A good little boy who gets treats from Mummy.” “Dru-“ “Shhh. It won’t always hurt so,” she murmured with a wicked laugh, pressing her fingers against his skin, before pulling away sharply. She rose to her feet and did a little twirl, her arms thrown out at her sides. “Come dance with me in the moonlight, my Spike.” She stopped her dance and levelled her gaze on him, crooking her finger at him. “Come. Let’s go play.” He had followed his sire almost absentmindedly and now found himself lingering in the shadows of the Bronze, watching her as she moved through the crowd, searching for her prey. It didn’t take her long at all to lure a college student away from his friends and as she led him towards the exit, Spike slipped behind her, watching her work her magic. Drusilla led the young man out into the alley behind the Bronze and after a brief seduction, her teeth were sinking into his throat as he let out a cry. From his position only a few metres away, Spike could smell the man’s blood – could almost taste it on his own lips – and his demon urged him to move forward, to join in the kill. As if sensing his struggle, Drusilla lifted her head and fixed her eyes on his, her lips painted in blood. She said nothing but her eyes were coaxing him forward. He wavered for a moment, then went to step forward – and came to a halt as movement from behind Drusilla caught his attention. He looked up quickly and met the Slayer’s startled gaze. She looked first at Drusilla and her victim and then glanced at him, but she made no move to attack, as he expected her to do, and she seemed frozen in place. He moved to Drusilla’s side and took her arm almost protectively, the smell of the dying man’s blood overwhelming his senses instantly, clouding his mind with hunger. “The Slayer will spoil our game,” Dru murmured, rubbing herself against him, her eyes fixed on the silent Slayer. He took in the Slayer – arms crossed over her chest and a disgusted look on her face – and felt that still-raw pain swell up inside him. He would not let it show though and instead grew angry with her disdainful look: didn’t she realise she had driven him to this?! “No, she won’t,” he answered bitingly, narrowing his eyes on the Slayer as she straightened ever so slightly, “Slayer knows I know all her weak spots now. Spent long enough in her circle to know where to hit her hardest.” Buffy’s eyes went wide with surprise, but he could not stop himself – wanting to hurt her just as she had hurt him. Drusilla cooed and rubbed herself against him once more. “That’s my Spike.” “How’s the little sis?” he asked with bared fangs, watching as her shock quickly turned to anger to match his, “Tell her she can come hang out at my crypt anytime. Nice girl, she is.” “You’ve got ten seconds to get out of my face, Spike.” Drusilla laughed and he grinned, glad he could have gotten to the Slayer in some small way. He wanted the power she had taken from him back. “Come on, Dru. Let’s find somewhere a bit cosier, shall we?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Cosy and full of warm, lovely treats.” “Anything you want, love,” he answered, leaning down and giving her a hungry kiss before pulling back to meet the Slayer’s angry gaze with a defiant look. “Night night, Slayer. See you soon.” He smirked and turned, moving off into the darkness with his sire, knowing that he had just ruined any hope of reconciliation with the Slayer – but taking pleasure in the fact that he had been able to get to her. She would regret the way she had treated him, he would make sure of that.

Chapter #4 - Four

A/N: I had a fit of inspiration and just had to get this next chapter up. Hope you're enjoying this - it's a bit different to my usual fare. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She was shaking all over, and she just couldn’t seem to stop it. Her feet had led her back to the shop, to the safety of her friends – but she knew that she would have been easy prey to any demon who might have happened upon her. She had been so shocked by her meeting with Spike and Drusilla in the alley behind the Bronze and the memory of Spike’s taunting words had left her shaken to the core. She knew all too well how much her sister liked the vampire and it would be only too easy for him – no, she couldn’t think like that. She wanted to believe, deep down, that Spike’s words had been all bluff – a show for Drusilla perhaps - but this was exactly what her mother had predicted: a dangerous Spike. It had been exactly what Buffy had wanted to avoid, but as usual, she seemed to have run out of luck. Instead, she seemed to have pushed Spike back into the arms of Drusilla, who seemed to be doing a pretty good job of leading him back into the life he had had before. She couldn’t help but feel regret, wondering now if maybe she could have handled the situation better. Her friends’ greetings drew her momentarily out of her daze and she moved down into the shop, still shaking as she sank into a chair. “Buffy, are you alright?” Giles asked, his voice finally piercing through to her consciousness. She looked up at him with wide eyes and let out a sharp little breath. “I – I don’t know.” “What happened?” Willow asked worriedly. “I… I just saw Spike.” “Was Dead Boy Junior trying to declare his love again?” Xander bit out, “That guy really doesn’t get the hint, does he?” “No, no,” Buffy murmured, lost in her thoughts for a moment, “No, he really wasn’t… He was with Drusilla.” “Drusilla?!” “I thought you believed she had left after the, err, incident in Spike’s crypt?” Giles asked awkwardly. “I thought she did. But it looks like she’s staying.” “So Spike’s gone back to his old ways?” Xander said, “Didn’t take him long.” She thought back to that scene in the alley and didn’t know what to think. Drusilla had killed that boy, whilst Spike hung back in the shadows – and she just didn’t know what to make of it. “I don’t know.” She sighed and ran her hand over her face. This was just one issue too many for her to deal with right now. “Buffy?” She had fazed out again and raised her head quickly at Willow’s voice. “Sorry, I’m just a bit… shaken.” “What happened?” Giles asked. “Spike, he… he kinda threatened Dawn.” “Ha, that’ll teach her for having a crush on him,” Xander muttered bitterly, but his voice was drowned out by the outbursts of concern from the others. “Is Dawn aware of the situation?” Giles asked. “Yeah,” Buffy answered with a nod, “I told her to stay away from Spike.” “But?” “But she doesn’t listen to me most of the time. Why would she be any different now?” “I think we had best consult with your mother and make sure Dawn is aware of the danger.” She sighed again, tired and strained. She already had to worry about one baddie being after Dawn and another added to the list made her anxious. She wanted to believe that Spike would not hurt her sister – she had seen how well they got on – but she couldn’t be sure of anything in the circumstances. If Spike wanted to get back at her, what better way? On top of that, he knew the secret of Dawn’s origin and if he chose to use that against her – the thought made her sick to the stomach. She wished Spike had never found out – but knew it was hopeless to focus on the past. All she could think about now was damage control. “I have to talk to Spike again,” she proclaimed, silencing the group, who had been chatting between themselves. “You what?!” Xander blurted out. “Buffy, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Giles said. “I know it’s not, but I have to – I need to know that he won’t hurt Dawn.” “In his state, I’m not sure we can have any guarantees,” Giles pointed out, “How can you be sure that even if he gives his word, he will keep it?” “I can’t,” she replied honestly, rising to her feet, “Which is why I have to be prepared.” “Prepared for what?” Willow asked, watching her intently. “To kill Spike,” she got out, her voice wavering despite her attempts to stop it, “If that’s what it takes to keep Dawn safe.” “If Drusilla is with him -“ “Then that’s two vamps to deal with,” she said, trying to get into Slayer-mode to push all feelings of doubt, guilt, fear to the back of her mind. “Buffy, are you sure about this?” Giles asked. “What else can I do?” she said quietly. Giles regarded her for a moment and then nodded. “Be careful.” She nodded and with a shaking hand, pushed her chair back. She took a deep breath and with one last look at her friends, she went out into the night again. She headed back to Bronze but after a quick scan, she realised the vampires had moved on. She didn’t know where to look, but headed in the general direction of the cemetery where Spike lived. She could not focus and was glad that tonight seemed to be a quiet night, because otherwise her distraction could have had fatal consequences. She reached the cemetery and stopped, watching the crypt for any signs of the two vampires. Only a moment later, the door opened and Drusilla stormed out, quickly followed by Spike. Spike grabbed at the vampiress’ arm but she turned and lashed out at him and he stumbled back as she disappeared into the trees. Seeing her chance, Buffy moved forward quickly, her hand clenched tightly around the stake in her hand. Spike had turned to go back in as she caught up to him and a swift kick sent him flying to the floor inside the crypt. He rolled over quickly, looking up at her wide eyes – before the Big Bad persona reasserted itself. “What do you want, Slayer?” he scoffed. “You threatened my sister.” “What’s a little harmless threatening between friends?” he replied, smirking at her as he got to his feet. She didn’t pause – she stepped forward and punched him in the face. He reared back and took a long moment to right himself, touching his fingers to his bloody nose. He brought them to his mouth then and licked the blood from them, causing her to grimace in disgust. “Stay away from my sister,” she bit out, holding her stake high so he could see it. “Or what?” he returned, lip curled in anger. “I’m serious, Spike.” “You’re all talk and no balls,” he retorted, turning his back on her – and giving her the perfect opportunity. Her fingers twitched around the stake in her hand but she couldn’t bring herself to do it – instead she grabbed him and flung him to the ground. He laughed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Hit a sore spot, Slayer?” A sharp kick to the jaw sent him to the ground again and he slid into game face, baring his fangs as yellow eyes fixed on hers. She kicked out at him again and he gave an angry cry, reaching out to pull her off her feet – and crying out in pain as she dropped to the floor, the wind knocked out of her. She scrambled to her knees and quickly pinned him, one hand on his collar as the other held the stake over his heart. He paused, yellow eyes searching hers and then he growled. “Go on then!” he cried, “Do it!” His hand wrapped around hers, pushing the stake harder against his chest. “Put me out of my bloody misery!” he shouted angrily. She faltered and he tightened his grip around her hand. “Do it!” he barked. With wide eyes, she scrambled away and stumbled to her feet, taking several shaky steps away from the vampire. “What’s the matter, Slayer?! Lost your nerve?!” he bit out, fangs shining in the dim light, “Come on!” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find any reply to his half-angry, half-anguished words. “I… I’m sorry,” she stuttered, before turning on her heel and sprinting out of the crypt. She didn’t stop when she got outside and she sprinted across the cemetery and halfway down the street before coming to a halt, breathing heavily. Shaking, she sank against a nearby wall and her eyes flew back to the empty cemetery, her heart hammering against her chest. Burying her head in her hands, she sank to the floor and curled up into a ball. “Oh God,” she whispered to herself, “What have I done?”

Chapter #5 - Five

A/N: I appear to be back, again. Blame the procrastination bunny! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was too miserable to be angry any longer. In fact, his anger had disappeared within about two minutes of his meeting with Buffy in the alley. He had thought that by being angry, by throwing jibes at her, he might be able to make himself feel a tiny bit better, but it had been a plan doomed to failure. Only minutes after his harsh words, he had regretted them. He knew he had got to her with his threat to Dawn and knew she would be worrying about it now. If only he could keep his mouth shut, for once in his unlife. It had only been Drusilla’s arm in his as they walked away that had stopped him from turning on his heel and running back to Buffy to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. And Drusilla, somehow knowing this – as she knew everything – had turned petulant and had stormed off home, only to confront him then. “Why won’t you play anymore?” she moaned, “You’re a naughty doggy. Why won’t you behave for Mummy?” “Dru,” he called out soothingly, reaching out for her. “Don’t think I don’t see your lies!” she suddenly spat out, evading his grasp, “Don’t think I don’t know what little fairytales my William makes up in his head!” Her anger disappeared a moment later and she moved over to him, trailing her hand across his face. “My poor poor boy,” she murmured, caressing his cheek, “You live in the darkness but you crave the sunshine.” “Don’t know what you’re talking about, love,” he lied, wrapping his arm around her waist and attempting to draw her closer. “No!” she cried, lashing out at him and managing to scratch his face as she tore out of his arms, “Lies, lies, all lies. The priest can’t say his vows. He lies to himself in the darkness.” “Dru-“ She spun round and fixed her piercing gaze on him. “She’ll destroy you!” she spat out, before turning and dashing out of the crypt. With Drusilla making things difficult as well, his misery had been complete and he would have been happy to be dusted right there on the floor of his crypt by an angry Slayer. He wanted an end to this misery – and end to his torment - and, after all, it was only right that the Slayer he had lost his heart to to drive her stake through it and kill him. She hadn’t though. She had faltered – why he wasn’t sure – and had run off, leaving him lying on the floor in silence for long minutes, before he burst into hysterical laughter. Moments later, the laughter subsided into painful sobs that he could not stop, no matter how hard he tried. He was being torn up from the inside and he couldn’t bear it, didn’t know how to fix things. He was stretched between the two lives he had forged for himself: the first, as a killing, slaughtering monster and the second, as an ally to the Slayer, a white hat of sorts. But he could succeed at neither: he could not be Drusilla’s bad boy and he could not be Buffy’s knight in shining armour. He was so tired – tired of keeping up the illusion, of lying, of hiding. Drusilla had been right, as always – he was lying to himself, to her. He was pretending to be a man – a monster - that he wasn’t sure existed anymore, despite the clamour of protest from his demon. The Bad Boy façade was so familiar though, a second skin – along with his coat – that protected the vestiges of William from those who would laugh and scorn. He didn’t know how to change any more, didn’t know what else he could do to show that he wanted to be different. That he wanted to be good. And what did it matter after all? Buffy was disgusted by him at best. She couldn’t even bring herself to kill him, pathetic as he was. All he had was Drusilla, who had made him great, who had supported him all along, making him into the man he was today. She had created Spike – and it was something he could never forget. He owed her everything and so he had loved her – despite her mood swings, despite her illness, even despite her faithlessness – for a hundred years and more. He had succumbed to her every whim, had given her everything she asked for on a silver platter – and begged to do more for her. She had been his world. Now, his world had shifted and although he still loved his sire in some way, he could not summon back those emotions. He craved her affection, as he always had, but his heart was already lost to a Slayer who despised him – and he hated himself for it. His love for her made him weak, made him stupid, pathetic. Everything William had once been. He wanted to rid himself of these feelings, but he knew that was too much to hope for. His love was not the kind to fizzle out overnight, or to be dissuaded by rejection – after all, he was and always had been Love’s Bitch. He would continue to love this fierce, beautiful Slayer, probably until it killed him. Somewhere in his musings, he had picked himself up from the floor and found his way down to his bed – with a bottle of whiskey. Sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling, he set to work on the bottle. If he could not rid himself of these feelings, at least he could drink himself into a haze, could dull the pain and the misery with the help of some good whiskey. He took several pulls at the bottle and laid back, eyes closing wearily. Maybe he should leave Sunnydale, leave all this mess behind. The idea disappeared almost as soon as it appeared and he took another large mouthful of whiskey, feeling its warmth work its way through him. Why did he have to fall for the Slayer of all people? The one woman who hated him more than most. He knew exactly why – it was because they were the same, whether she knew it or not. They had both been burnt and both protected themselves with a mask of bravado. They were both fighters, warriors – just on opposite sides. It was more than that though – she was so, so… He couldn’t describe what it was that drew him to her – more than her Slayer status, more than her charm, her power. From the sidelines, he had watched her grow into an incredible woman, who had the weight of the world on her shoulders but still went on, day after day, trying to make a difference. And she was so beautiful… In his mind, he conjured the image of her from earlier that evening, angry and fierce as she pinned him to the floor, her long hair falling around her face. In his daydream, he reached out to touch her hair, running his fingers through it. She smiled at him in his daydream – one of those smiles she saved for the people she cared about – and he felt warmth in his dead heart. “Beautiful,” he whispered out loud, his eyes fluttering as he finally sank into unconsciousness, the bottle of whiskey still clutched in his hand.

Chapter #6 - Six

Chapter Six A/N: Muchos apologies for the delay. Hope you enjoy this latest update. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Having dropped into unconsciousness only just before dawn, Spike awoke finally at some time around midday – as far as he could tell. His head was still a little woozy from the alcohol he had drunk last night but his vampire constitution was already getting to work and it was fading minute by minute. He rolled off his bed and went upstairs to prepare himself some blood, knowing it would help rid his head of this haze even more. He prepared his meal and sat down in his favourite chair to feed, lolling his heavy head back against the cushion. It was only as he took his first sip that a noticeable absence impinged on his consciousness: Drusilla had not returned. It was not uncommon, and after a moment, he shrugged it off. Drusilla knew how to look after herself and would be holed up somewhere safe for the day. He was glad, almost, because after their altercation last night, he needed some time away from her, time to clear his head. As sunset came and went – and Drusilla still had not returned – it began to prey on his mind. She had been upset last night and he knew the kind of reaction she could have. He just hoped her sense of survival was stronger than her anger. He waited for three more hours and then could take it no longer – he picked up his coat and threw it on, ready to go out and look for his sire. He would have to grovel – he had no doubt – but it would ease his mind when he found her, and perhaps rid his mind of thoughts of Buffy, if only temporarily. He pulled out a cigarette, slipped it between his lips and moved to the door, lighter poised. He was halted suddenly as the door flew open and he had to step back quickly to stop it from hitting him. He looked up in surprise and his eyes went even wider when he saw none other than Buffy standing in the doorway, eyes flashing, hand clutching her stake tightly. “Where is she?” she got out through tight lips, obviously struggling to restrain her emotions. “Wha – who?” he asked confused. “Dawn. Where is she?” He looked perplexed for a moment and finally lowered his hand, holding the cigarette. Looking past the anger, he saw the worry lining the Slayer’s features. “I haven’t seen her.” “I swear to God, Spike-“ “Honestly,” he added quickly, watching her warily as she tightened her grip around her now-raised stake. She hesitated, obviously unsure whether to believe him and he continued. “I don’t know where she is.” She frowned and lowered the stake a fraction. “If you’re lying-“ “I really don’t know, lo – Buffy.” He paused for a moment, looked to the floor, and then dared to meet her gaze once more. “I… I wouldn’t hurt her.” Buffy’s barked laugh came as no surprise to him after what he had said just last night. “I’m supposed to believe that?!” she asked petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest now – seemingly deciding that he did not pose a sufficient threat to keep her weapon raised. “I said that because…” he took a calming breath and forced himself onwards, “I wanted to hurt you.” Her brow crinkled and she looked away awkwardly. “I have to go. I have to find Dawn.” Before he could say anything, the Slayer turned on her heel and left him alone once more. Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and returned his cigarette to his lips. Lighting it, he drew in a breath and let the nicotine work its way through him, soothing frayed nerves. Squaring his shoulders, he set out on his original mission once more, his mind filled once again with thoughts of Buffy. He did not find Drusilla in any of the places he expected to find her – in the Bronze, close to the university campus, or in the larger graveyards – and he was beginning to grow impatient – and a little anxious. Of course, it was more than likely that Drusilla had found herself a companion for the night – but there was still something nagging at the back of his mind. Setting out from the centre of town, there was only one more place he could think to look: Angelus’ mansion. After all her talk of being a family again, he wouldn’t be surprised if Drusilla had gone there to reminisce. He was headed there now, but if he found nothing, he would head home – undoubtedly to another night of drinking himself to sleep. He reached the mansion – still uninhabited after all these years – and rounded the back, reaching out with all his senses for any sign of his sire. He slipped through the garden and noticed now the open door leading into the large front room. He made his way to it and entered the silent, dark house. He sensed her before he saw her and a moment later, Drusilla stepped into view, wearing a new red dress and swaying towards him with a smile. “Spike, I missed you.” He knew her too well to expect that she had forgiven him yet, but he would go with her good mood and hope it lasted. “Where’ve you been?” “I’ve been playing with the flowers,” she sing-songed, drawing close and trailing her fingers over his arm as she rounded him, “And getting you a lovely present.” “Oh yeah?” “It tastes like the sun.” “Where’s this present then?” “Shh!” she got out, pressing a finger to her lips, “You mustn’t wake it.” He raised an eyebrow and she gave a little coo of pleasure, tracing his cheek. “Come, I’ll show you.” She took his hand and he let her lead him through the dark halls of the mansion, winding their way up the stairs to one of the bedrooms – Angelus’ if he remembered rightly. Dru gave another simper of delight and pushed open the door. He followed her in curiously and his eyes instantly flew to the figure on the floor across the room. She sat with her back to the wall, her hands bound and a blindfold across her eyes. It was Dawn. “Hello?” she called out in a tremulous voice. “Isn’t it pretty?” Drusilla cooed, “It looks just like the sunshine and it tastes even better.” His eyes flew to the girl’s neck and he saw the scar of Drusilla’s bite and the blood staining her pale skin. “Hello?” the girl called out again, her voice thick with fear. “Shh,” Drusilla murmured, moving closer to the girl and dropping to a crouch close beside her, “You mustn’t scare him away. He doesn’t know who he is anymore and you must show him.” Drusilla met his gaze and smiled wickedly, running one hand over Dawn’s hair almost affectionately, “We’ll teach him to be a bad dog again.”

Chapter #7 - Seven

~*~*~*~*~*~*~* She took a deep breath – steeling herself for what was to come - before turning the handle and walking into her house, only to be instantly bombarded with her mother’s worried questioning. “Did you find her?” She shook her head solemnly, slipping tiredly out of her jacket. “Oh no,” her mother moaned, her hand going to her mouth, “My poor baby.” “I’ll find her, Mom.” “And you checked all her friends?” “I checked everywhere.” She paused as they went through to the kitchen and she made herself a drink. “I even went to Spike’s,” she said after a long silence, turning to take in her mother’s fraught expression. “And?” “He said he hadn’t seen her.” She frowned and took a mouthful of her drink. “Do you believe him? You said he threatened Dawn just last night. What if he -“ She cut her mother off before she could get too worked up. “I don’t think he was lying, Mom.” “Oh, my poor little girl. I can’t even think what might happen to her in this town. What if that Glory has her?” She couldn’t deny that the idea haunted her too and made her sick to the stomach. “Mom, calm down,” she said quietly, laying a hand on her mother’s arm, “She’ll be okay. I’ll find her.” “God, I hope so.” After a moment’s contemplation, she rose to her weary feet. “Where are you going?” her mother asked. “I’m going to hook up with the gang. Willow might be able to do a spell… or something.” “Be careful.” “Always,” she whispered with a sad smile, grabbing her jacket and making her way out into the night once again. She met her friends at the shop and was disheartened when none of them had any good news for her. They had all been searching and asking around Dawn’s friends but it seemed no-one had seen the girl since she left school early that afternoon. Buffy’s worry increased and on top of that she dreaded to think of what her mother was going through. “Is there anything you can do?” she asked Willow almost helplessly. “I… I don’t know.” “Anything, Will. I need to find her.” “I could try a locator spell?” “Do it,” she said quickly, pulling on her jacket once more. “Where are you going, Buffy?” Giles asked her as she rose to her feet. “I can’t sit here and wait. I’m going to look for her some more.” Giles looked like he was going to argue for a moment but then with a silent nod, he retreated to the bookcases. “Buffy, what if it’s Glory?” Xander asked hesitantly. “It’s not.” He went to continue but she stopped him, raising a hand. “I have to believe it’s not. Or I might go crazy,” she whispered. He nodded and she gave a tight smile, pulling her jacket around her. “Call me if you find anything,” she said to Willow. Her friend nodded and with a grateful smile she nodded back, before turning and leaving the shop once more, her desperation growing with every minute her sister was missing. She didn’t even know where to look anymore – had tried every place she could possibly think of. She walked aimlessly now, her mind spinning. She couldn’t stop imagining what awful thing might have happened to her sister. There were too many monsters in this town and she had no doubt that a teenager – and the Slayer’s sister to boot – would be a tempting victim for anyone who found her. And that was still ignoring the fact that there was a hell god set on hunting her sister down. She just couldn’t let herself think that Glory had won – had captured her sister – because it would leave her devastated, and right now she needed to be strong. In a strange way, she almost wished Spike had been guilty, because Spike she knew how to deal with. He had been telling the truth though, she was sure of it: Spike was a terrible liar and there had been nothing duplicitous in his gaze at all. In fact, his gaze had displayed nothing more than hurt at her accusation and a softness when he noticed her worry. And somehow, despite her misgivings and everything that had happened recently, she trusted him. She believed him when he said he would not hurt Dawn, that he had only threatened her safety to hurt her, Buffy. It had been a cheap shot but perhaps she had deserved it. She had hurt him and he had lashed out. That still left her with a problem though: if Spike wasn’t involved in Dawn’s disappearance, then who was? Her feet had led her right through town by now and into the nearest cemetery – which just happened to be the one where Spike lived. She stopped when she caught sight of his crypt and regarded it pensively. A new idea came into her head and before she could change her mind, she strode towards the crypt. She went in with only a brief knock and came to a stop in the main room. Spike was nowhere to be seen. Neither, thankfully, was Drusilla. She hesitated, not knowing what to do now. Her plan had been to ask the vampire for help in tracking down her sister – knowing that he had every right to refuse her – but he was not here and she did not know where to find him. She resolved instead to wait for him to return and settled into the one solitary chair, looking around the room uncertainly. She did not know what she would say to the vampire, but she was desperate now and any help would be gratefully received. She went into her pocket and pulled out the only money she had on her, counting it quickly. She had a grand total of about fifteen dollars. Shoving it back in her pocket, she hoped that the incentive of helping her would be enough to win Spike over. If only he would hurry up and come home. Getting frustrated already, she got to her feet and wandered around the crypt, stopping and listlessly flipping through an old NME magazine. “Come on, Spike,” she spoke to herself irritably, “Where are you?!”

Chapter #8 - Eight

A/N: Drama!! Duh duh duh!! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “Isn’t she pretty?” Drusilla cooed, retreating from the girl’s side to his, admiring the teenager as one would a pet, “I got her just for you.” “Please,” Dawn called out in a quiet voice, “Please let me go.” Frowning – but knowing better and quickly veiling his expression – Spike took Drusilla by the arm and led her out of the room. He had to play this carefully if he wanted any chance of success. “Do you like your present?” “S’very nice.” She giggled and rubbed herself against him. “I knew you would like it. Miss Edith told me you would.” “What about you though, pet?” “Me?” “Yeah. You got me a present, but what about you? You don’t have anything to play with.” Drusilla paused and considered for a moment, and then a pout spread across her face. “No, I don’t.” “And you’ve been such a wicked girl,” he murmured, running a hand over her hair. “Wicked and naughty,” she purred with another giggle. “Then don’t you think you deserve a treat?” “Oh yes.” “You better go find one then,” he whispered, leaning close to her, brushing his lips over her ear, “Then we can play together.” She pulled back and smiled at him wickedly. “You promise not to break your toy before I get back?” “Course not, pet,” he smirked. He kissed her roughly then and drew back, regarding her with a hungry expression. She moaned in approval and ran a hand down his chest. “I knew my naughty boy was in there.” He bared his fangs in a wide smile and she laughed delightedly, clapping her hands together like a child. “Hurry,” he whispered. “Yes, yes. We must run before the sunshine gets here.” Drusilla was gone a moment later and he turned back to the room, the frown spreading across his face once more. He went into the room and shut the door behind him. Hearing the door close, Dawn’s head flew up and he saw her go stiff with fear. “Please,” she whispered tearfully, “Please don’t hurt me.” He went to her and quickly crouched down, reaching out to untie the blindfold. She tensed with his closeness but as he pulled the cloth away she let out a harsh breath. “Spike?!” “Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking her over worriedly. “Is she gone?” Dawn asked nervously, looking over his shoulder. “For now, yes.” He untied the rope binding her arms and looked her over once more, his gaze landing on the bite on her neck. “How did I get here?” she asked shakily. “I’m not sure, pet. But we’re going to get you out, okay?” “She wanted you to kill me, didn’t she?” “It doesn’t matter, Li’l Bit. You know I wouldn’t hurt you.” “I know. That’s what I told Buffy.” He smiled ever so slightly and rose to his feet, helping her to stand. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” “No, my head’s just a little woozy,” she said, holding one hand to it. “It’s blood loss,” he explained, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder as he wavered. “She’s not going to come back, is she?” Dawn asked with a worried glance at the door. “Not yet. She’s going out hunting.” Dawn nodded shakily. “Can we go now? This place gives me the creeps.” He nodded and took her by the arm, leading her out of the room swiftly. They rushed down the stairs and were almost at the front door when a voice stopped them. “You can’t leave.” Drusilla’s tone was hard and cold and when they turned to face her, she focussed her dark gaze on the frightened girl. “I saw it in a dream,” she murmured, “But I didn’t believe it. And then Miss Edith told me. Told me that you weren’t real.” He tightened his grip on Dawn’s arm as she tensed. “Nothing but a pretty little key to fit in a lock.” Dawn turned big, wide eyes to his. “Spike!” she gasped. Before he could reply, Drusilla lunged for the girl and he pushed her aside, tackling his sire head on and sending them both to the floor. Drusilla grew wild and began to scream, scratching out at him. “No, no!! Take it back, take it back!” He struggled with her, trying to restrain her, and eventually succeeding in throwing her clear of him. They both got to their feet quickly and after a moment’s pause, Drusilla turned, ready to flee. Without a moment’s hesitation, he went after her, catching her and trying to trap her in his arms. He couldn’t let her go, not when she knew Dawn’s secret. She struggled and finally managed to lash out at him, throwing him off balance and sending him to the floor. He went to get to his feet but Drusilla was quicker and the next thing he knew, a small marble statue made contact with the back of his head, sending him to the ground. “Spike!” Dawn’s cry forced him to turn, even as his head spun, and he somehow managed to get to his feet, stopping Drusilla only a few feet away from the teenager. She turned on him and lashed out with her nails, catching him across the face. “Bad! Bad!” He tried to catch her hands and they struggled some more before he was able to send her to the floor. She quickly got up again, slipping into game face and baring her teeth at him. Undeterred, he went at her again, but she used his momentum against him and sent him into the nearest wall. His head struck the wall and made him dizzier still and he now noticed the blood trickling down from his forehead. Drusilla did not pause in her attack and flew at him again, blow after blow hitting him. His head was spinning but he finally managed to block one of her blows and send her crashing into the wall as well. “Dawn, get out of here!” he called, struggling to defend himself against Drusilla’s now-crazed attack. “No! No!” Drusilla cried, lashing out at him frenziedly, her golden eyes wide with rage. She backhanded him and he hit the wall, sliding to the floor as he was unable to hold himself up any longer. Drusilla paused for the briefest of seconds and then turned in the direction of the door, through which Dawn had just fled. She dashed after the girl and he pulled himself up as quickly as he could, his head spinning as he stumbled after them. He dragged himself through the door and stopped with a jolt, wide eyes taking in the scene before him. In the few moments he had been incapacitated, Drusilla had caught up with the girl and held her tightly now as she fed viciously. He let out a cry and without hesitation, dashed forward. He tore Dawn away from his sire, sending a quick worried look her way as she sank to the floor unconscious, but swiftly turned to face Drusilla once more. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stared at him, bloodstained fangs bared. “You will pay for this!” she bit out. It took him only a moment to spot his weapon and – before he could even consider – he scooped up the branch, clutched it tightly in his hand, and plunged it into Drusilla’s chest. A tiny cry – and his sire was gone. There wasn’t time to think, to consider his actions – or even to mind his own injuries. He dropped to Dawn’s side, brushing her long hair out of the way and regarding her pale face. She was out cold and he knew by the amount of blood she had lost that he needed to get help, and soon. There was no time to find Buffy, to leave a message – nothing. He quickly scooped her up in his arms and, ignoring his own dizziness, he dashed out of the garden. The hospital was a fifteen minute walk at tops and he had to get her there. Had to save this girl who meant so much to Buffy. To him, when he dared to admit it. Her heart rate was starting to slow now and he sped up his steps desperately. “Come on, Bit. Come on. You’re gonna be alright,” he whispered, spurring himself on with the words, “Gonna get you safe. Get you patched up.” She seemed paler than ever as he reached the hospital car park and he sped up as much as he could, finally reaching the emergency room. He was spotted straight away by a nurse and with a cry, a gurney was summoned and he placed Dawn on it gently. “Sir, you need to get seen too,” the nurse said as he stepped back. “I’m fine.” “Sir-“ “I’m fine. Go see to her.” They were already leading Dawn away and the nurse hurried after them, leaving him alone in the entrance, coated in his own blood and hers.

Chapter #9 - Nine

A/N: Once again, I owe my beautiful banner to the very talented nmcil. Check out whedonworld.com for more of her stuff - in particular the new Buffy 12 years images. They're beautiful. Thank you nmcil! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Buffy heard the news from her mother, she didn’t know what to think – torn between relief and an increased worry; somehow, Dawn had ended up in the hospital. Only minutes after the call had come through, she was following her mother to the car and they were heading across town as fast as they dared. They reached the hospital and both rushed inside to the reception, her mother frantically asking for Dawn. A nurse quickly came to them and led them along a long corridor to a small room at one end of it. They went inside and found Dawn lying in a large bed, hooked up to a number of monitors and drips. She was unconscious but the nurse said she should be coming round soon and left them a moment later. Buffy stood at her sister’s bedside and brushed a hand over her face as Joyce clasped her youngest daughter’s hand tightly. “Oh, what happened to you, my baby?” Joyce whispered. Buffy could not ignore the bandage on Dawn’s neck and had a pretty good idea what type of wound would be underneath. After all, she had the remnants of three bites scarring her own neck. “How did she get here?” her mother asked, turning to her with tired, worried eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll try find out,” she said, bestowing a last caress over her sister’s cheek before withdrawing, “I’ll be back.” Her mother nodded and with a final look at the sad tableau of mother and daughter, Buffy turned and left the room. She found the same nurse again and asked her how Dawn had come to be in the hospital. “A man brought her in. I haven’t seen him since.” “A man? What did he look like?” The nurse shrugged and Buffy frowned in frustration. “I only remember his hair. Blonde. Very punky.” Buffy’s eyes went wide as she turned her attention back to the nurse. “Blonde?” she echoed. “Almost white,” the nurse answered uncertainly. “And you said you hadn’t seen him?” “He disappeared.” “Thank you,” she answered distractedly and the nurse went away. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want all the little theories to start adding up in her mind. It couldn’t be what it seemed to be: Spike had said he would never hurt her sister and she so desperately wanted to believe him. But the truth was that her sister had been attacked by a vampire and Spike - a vampire - had brought her to the hospital. It was pretty incriminating. Yet, why would he bring her to the hospital, if he had been the one to hurt her? She couldn’t make sense of it – knew she would not be able to until she spoke to either Dawn or Spike - and it was making her head spin. Needing a momentary escape, she quickly ducked her head into Dawn’s room, told her mother she was just going outside, and did so. The fresh air – instead of making her feel better – made her thoughts clearer, her worries all the more vivid. What if Spike had hurt her sister? She pushed her hair out of her face tiredly and rounded the side of the hospital, seeking out some peace and quiet. She had to round another part of the building before she felt alone – and within moments she realised she was not. A huddled figure on the ground instantly drew her attention and when she recognised the bowed – blonde – head, she let out a little gasp. “Spike!” With apparent difficulty, he lifted his head and her mouth went wide in an O of surprise. A line of blood streaked down his forehead, obscuring one eye, and his clothes were covered in dirt and blood. “How’s Dawn?” he got out softly. All suspicion disappeared in an instant as she took in the state of him with wide eyes. “She… she… God, Spike. What happened?” She hurried to his side and crouched down next to him, expert eyes skimming over him, looking for any serious injuries. “Drusilla,” he said, meeting her gaze for a brief second before lowering his gaze to his bloody hands, “Wanted to turn me back to my old self.” “And Dawn?” “A present,” he scoffed, coughing painfully a moment later. She frowned, hesitated, and then laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked up sharply and she bit her lip nervously. “Are you… are you hurt bad?” His surprise at her question was evident and it took him a few long moments to answer. “Just a few cuts and grazes. Maybe a few broken ribs.” She frowned and looked him over, as if to ascertain that he was telling the truth. “I want to help you.” He was surprised again by her words – and so was she a little– and all he could do was stare at her. “I want to check on Dawn,” she continued, looking away nervously, “But then I’ll… I’ll help you get home… if you want.” He said nothing and she finally dared to meet his eyes, finding him watching her with awe. He almost instantly snapped out of it and bowed his head. “You don’t have to. I’ll be fine. Worry about the Li’l Bit.” “No, I… I want to help you.” “Buffy, I –“ “Let me help,” she whispered softly, “Okay?” His eyes widened a little at her tone but then he nodded slowly and with a tiny smile, she rose to her feet. “Just wait here and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” He nodded again and she stood there for a few moments in awkward silence before walking away quickly. When she entered her sister’s room once more, Dawn was awake and she looked up at Buffy’s entrance. “Buffy!” “God, Dawn! Are you okay?” she asked, rushing to her sister’s bedside. “I’m okay. Really. But I have to tell you, Spike, he –“ “Saved your life?” Buffy interrupted. “Yeah,” Dawn answered in surprise, “How did you…?” “He’s outside. Looking like a mess. Told me about Drusilla.” “I don’t know what happened,” Dawn said with a frown, “Buffy, Drusilla knows about me. That I’m… you know.” Her eyes widened but she forced a calm nod in her mother’s direction. “I’ll sort it. Don’t worry.” There was a pause and she moved closer, reaching out to take her sister’s hand. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back later, ‘kay?” “Where are you going?” her mother asked in concern. “I’m going to help Spike,” she said somewhat awkwardly, “He’s… hurt.” Her mother’s eyes widened ever so slightly but she said nothing and nodded gently. Buffy turned back to her sister and squeezed her hand a little tighter. “Now don’t go scaring me like that again, you hear?” Dawn smiled weakly and Buffy forced a tight smile, releasing her sister’s hand. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she reassured both and quickly left the room.

Chapter #10 - Ten

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He was exhausted and his body ached all over, but at that same time, there was a feeling of exquisite pleasure from the proximity – and the tenderness – of the woman he loved. Buffy had helped him back to his crypt – his skin still felt like it was on fire from where she had looped an arm around his waist to help him – and onto the large sarcophagus where he now lay. He hadn’t dared to ask her to help him to his bed out of embarrassment but although the hard stone was not particularly soothing to his aching body, Buffy’s gentle touch was. Despite his protest, she had insisted on staying and helping him clean up and, after helping him remove his coat, she had taken to cleaning the blood from his face and arms with a cool, wet cloth. He stayed as still as possible as she performed this duty, breathing in her scent and wondering when he had died and gone to heaven. He watched her as inconspicuously as he could, but he suspected by her slight blush that she was more than aware of his gaze. She placed the cloth down, not meeting his eyes, and moments later, gentle fingers pressed his ribs. He tried to suppress his gasp but to no avail and she met his eyes briefly. “Is it bad?” she asked quietly. “I’ll be fine, lo- Buffy. Really. You don’t need to –“ Before he could even finish his protest, she had picked up the bandage she had apparently liberated from the hospital and was regarding him as she bit her lip. “We should bind your ribs.” “You don’t –“ “I do,” she whispered, daring to meet his eyes once more, her expression filled with gratitude, “I really do.” He swallowed hard and had to look away, unable to bear that softness from her. A softness he was convinced he did not deserve. She moved close then and he was forced to look up as she stopped just inches from him, hesitant hands going to his waistband. Not looking him in the eyes and her cheeks flushed with pink like a schoolgirl, she tugged at his T-shirt and then gently guided it over his head. The pain caused as he lifted his arms was quickly forgotten as he breathed in her scent once more, relishing the closeness he had been gifted with. “I need to ask you something,” she spoke up softly after a moment, her gaze fixed on her hands as they wrapped the bandage around his chest. “Yeah?” She risked a glance at him and then returned her gaze to her hands. “Drusilla. She… do you know where she is?” It was only as she asked about his sire that it hit him: Drusilla was gone. He had killed his sire. He could feel the loss now, deep inside him, and it stilled him. “Spike?” He must have been silent for too long and he looked up quickly, meeting Buffy’s worried gaze. “She’s dead,” he said quietly, the words reinforcing the truth of the fact in his heart. Buffy’s shocked gaze searched his and he bore her scrutiny. “I killed her,” he added. There was the longest silence between them and he sank his gaze to the floor. “Why?” Buffy’s whisper – only just breaking the silence – reached him and he looked up with a start. He softened then and met her gaze straight on. “She knew about Dawn,” he said simply, “I couldn’t let her go. Who knows who she might have told.” “Spike… you…” she trailed off, apparently dumbfounded. “And she hurt Dawn,” he added in a low voice, “Hurt you.” There was another achingly long silence but he did not dare to look up, to see the disgust that was sure to be in Buffy’s expression. He started then as her soft hand suddenly touched his cheek and looked up in surprise. She was watching him with wide, watery eyes and he had to swallow hard. “Thank you,” she said genuinely, her voice only just above a whisper, “I won’t forget what you’ve done. For Dawn… For me.” He couldn’t say anything, could do nothing but swallow hard, fighting back his emotions. She looked as if she wanted to say more and hesitated for a moment, before she leant forward and he felt the briefest brush of her lips against his before she withdrew. She met his shocked gaze for a moment but then looked away embarrassedly. “I should get back to Dawn.” His throat was too choked up to reply as he watched her fidget nervously before glancing at him. She bit her lip and her gaze fell to the floor. “Do you need me to do anything?” she asked. “No,” he managed to get out, “Thank you.” She looked up and nodded quickly, her eyes darting nervously around her. “So I should get going.” “Yeah.” She glanced at him once more, nodded, and then turned towards the door. She paused on the doorstep and turned back to him. “I… I think something big’s coming. With Glory, I mean.” He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. She glanced at the door and then turned her attention back to him, meeting his gaze uncertainly. “I’m going to need you in the fight,” she said softly and he sat up a little straighter. “If you want to be there,” she added. He hesitated only briefly and then answered her. “I’ll be there. You can count on me.” She paused for a moment and then smiled gently. “I know.” He could have sworn he felt his heart swell at her words and struggled to keep his façade of calm. “I guess I should have known before,” Buffy continued in a quiet voice and when he met her eyes, he saw the self-reproach there. “You had no reason to,” he murmured. She gave him a half-smile and fixed her gaze on the door. “I need you to look out for Dawn.” “’Til the end of the world.” She looked up, met his solemn gaze with her own and nodded. “Whatever you need,” he continued, “I’m here.” “I know… You… you’re a good man, Spike.” Aside from a declaration of love, it was the sweetest thing he could ever have heard spoken by her lips and it stilled him. He had tried so hard to change for her, to be something like a man – and finally, he had the recognition he had so desperately sought. He felt the tears threatening and swallowed hard. “I should go.” She was ready to go this time and he called her name, halting her. She turned to him and his words stuck in his throat. “Take care,” he got out, when nothing else would come. She smiled wryly and with one last look, left him alone his crypt. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty darkness, and lay back on the sarcophagus with a heady smile. “A good man,” he breathed. He closed his eyes and with a smile still on his face, let himself finally drift into the sleep his injured body so badly needed. THE END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: I know, I took ages and then all you got was the end! Hope you enjoyed it though. To be honest, I originally had more planned for this but I seem to have lost inspiration so it seemed best to leave it nicely wrapped up. You never know, I might come back to it one day... Thanks for the continuing support.