Fragile by ya_lublyu_tebya

Chapter #1 - One

A/N: I am very much ashamed by just how long it has taken me to write anything new, but I was unfortunately lacking in both time and inspiration. Now, I find myself returning to Spuffy, hopefully full of new inspiration for this story. It is based on an old (and of dubious quality) draft which I started a year or so ago. I hope you enjoy... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He didn’t know what the Scoobies were up to, but he knew it was probably something he didn’t want to know about. Something they would regret. They had rushed back to the Summers’ house and sent him on his way with barely a word of thanks, even though he had sat there with the youngest – only – Summers for close to three hours while they did whatever it was that had them all jittery and nervous on their return. He told himself he didn’t care, he didn’t want any part of it, but the truth was that it niggled at him. After everything they had been through, he thought he had earned himself at least a tiny smidgen of respect from her friends. He had proved himself time and time again, carrying out a one-man mission to keep the streets of Sunnydale free from demons. Just as she would have done. He had saved her friends’ lives countless times in the last few months. But it meant nothing, apparently. He was a convenient nuisance: someone they put up with because it saved them the hassle of fighting the various nasties that lurked in Sunnydale’s shadows. He was fed up of being on the outside, but he knew he could not leave. Not after the promise he had made. He had left, angry and desperate to find either something to kill or something to drink, but – as usual – he had ended up in the same old spot: stood in front of her grave, hands shoved in his pockets to stop them from trembling, swallowing hard to fight back the tears. After one hundred and forty-eight days, it still hurt. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, trying to calm himself – at least for now, while he was out in the open. Didn’t do for Big Bads to be found sobbing in graveyards, after all. Later, when he was alone, he knew the wave of grief – a wave that only grew day by day, instead of washing away to nothingness – would break over him and he would be helpless to stop it. It was somewhat of a ritual by now. He smiled a little to himself and focussed his gaze once more on the simple words etched into the marble headstone. She saved the world. A lot. Barely enough to evoke the true image of Buffy Summers, in all her glory, but it said it all – all she had ever done was save the world, in one way or another. He was about to turn and move on, grief already starting to rise up within him, when he heard it. It had been prodding at his inattentive mind for as long as he had been standing there, but he had paid no attention. A whimper, and the tiniest sound of… He couldn’t place it, couldn’t identify the faint sound, but it sounded… it sounded like it was coming from below his feet. “You’re going mad, Spike,” he muttered to himself and turned away once more. Again, that sound pulled him up short before he could propel himself into motion. A whimper and – it was a scratching. Like… nails on wood. His eyes flew to the ground and he shook his head. You’re bonkers. But there it was again, a whimper and more persistent scratching. It wasn’t possible. It simply couldn’t be. And yet it came again: that desperate, wordless cry, the scratching – and now a thud. A short, sharp kick. A moment later, rational thought banished for the time being, he dropped to his knees and began clawing at the ground. He heard the scratching again and hurried his own movements. Dirt stained his hands and clung to his nails but he kept going, desperation beginning to settle in his stomach. He clawed and clawed, his chest tightening in agony – until finally his hand made contact with soft, smooth wood. “Buffy,” he whispered, stroking his hand over the coffin lid. There was a pause and he thought maybe it had been his imagination - and then came a thud underneath his hand, followed by a muffled cry. Eyes wide, still not sure what he would find – or if this was some sort of hallucination - he reared back and punched a hole in the wood. There was a cry of shock, and then fingers crept out through the hole, tearing at it desperately. He blinked, hesitated a moment longer, and then with a cry of his own, he grabbed the edge of the hole – ignoring the shards of wood embedding themselves into his palms – and tore at it with all his strength. He tore and tore, wood renting from wood with a cracking sound – and then a hand locked tightly around his wrist. It shocked him back to reality and with added desperation he ripped at the wood. Moments later, wild hazel eyes were locked on his and without a second thought, he dragged her out of the coffin and up onto the grass. She hunched over, long hair hiding her face as she took several long gasps of air – but he would know her anywhere. It could be no-one else. Buffy Summers, the Slayer, was sitting right in front of him, alive. He had just torn her from her coffin. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, taking in every line of a form he had thought never to see again. She was alive. He let out a delayed choke of surprise and her head snapped up, wide eyes meeting his. She looked ready to flee but he held up his hand in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “It’s… it’s okay.” Her eyes searched his helplessly but if she understood what he had said, there was no sign of recognition in her expression. “You’re alive, Buffy.” The words, once said, sent a frisson through his body. “You’re alive,” he repeated in a voice tight with emotion, meeting her confused gaze with one almost blinded with tears. The look of confusion remained in her eyes and it drew him momentarily from his own daze. “It’s alright, love,” he soothed, reached out towards her hesitantly. She eyed his hand warily and leaned back, but much to his relief, she didn’t shrink away when he placed his hand on her shoulder. The feel of her very real shoulder under his fingers threatened to shake his momentary control but he shook his head and rose to his feet, beckoning her to follow him. She did so uncertainly and he smiled softly. “I’ll look after you, love. Don’t worry.” Her eyes fixed on his, uncertainty and confusion plain in her expression, but when he turned, she fell in beside him almost naturally. “Get you home, where you belong,” he whispered, glancing at her and then forcing his eyes back to the path in front of him. If he stopped to really take her in, he wouldn’t be any use anymore. He would deal with the shock later but right now, Buffy needed him.

Chapter #2 - Two

A/N: Thank you so much for the overwhelming response to the first chapter! You guys really are fuel for my inspiration. Hope you enjoy this second instalment. Oh, and by the way, Merry Christmas! :-) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER TWO It took Spike’s bewildered mind a whole five paces to make the connection: the Scoobies’ strange behaviour… and Buffy’s sudden appearance. They had done this. They had brought her back. His sudden realisation stopped him in his tracks and Buffy came to a startled stop behind him as he whirled to face her. “They did this,” he murmured, taking in her dazed, scared look; her long, dark hair; her bloodstained hands, “They did this… And didn’t even think to dig you up first.” If she had any idea what he was talking about, she showed no sign of it, simply watching him quietly, eyes still tinted with fear. In an instant, his awe was replaced by anger and he spun quickly, marching with renewed fervour in the same direction. “Stupid stupid children,” he growled to himself, speeding up his pace. He needed to see them, see the awful guilt in their faces when they realised just what they had done. Yes, they had achieved a miracle: Buffy was alive. But he knew – had known from the instant she rose to her feet – that this was not Buffy. Not the Buffy he had known and loved. She was different, changed in some awful way – and it only took one look at her bewildered eyes to confirm this suspicion. He had never seen Buffy afraid. His every sense was tuned into her – the smell of her, the regular beating of her heart – as she followed him at an unsteady pace. He was slightly taken aback by how trustingly she followed him, without hesitation, and thanked a God he didn’t believe in that he had been the one to find her. As she was now, she was easy prey – too bewildered, too dazed – and he didn’t even want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t been there. He slowed his pace now and let her catch up to him, needing to look at her again, needing to know that she was real. She caught up quickly but kept what he assumed she thought of as a safe distance between them, eyes darting over him nervously. “It’s alright, love,” he spoke up, unable to bear the silence, “Get you home soon enough. Dawn’ll be… she’ll be chuffed.” When he thought of how Dawn would react to her sister’s sudden return to the living, he felt a lump in his throat. The Bit had struggled these few months, losing all faith in a world that had taken her mother and her sister from her. Now her sister was back and he could hardly imagine how momentous this would be for the poor girl. Thanks to his inner turmoil, he had hardly noticed their progress across town until the Summers’ house was looming over them. He could see the silhouettes of the Scoobies in the living room and anger returned once more. He forced it down and turned to look at Buffy. She was studying the house intently, but he couldn’t tell if there was recognition in her gaze, or just simple curiosity. “This is your home. Gonna be a lot of… lots of people waiting for you.” She regarded him blankly and with a breath, he turned to the house, struggling to restrain his temper. It would be all too easy to rip the door off and storm in, force them to face the reality of what they had done. But that was not what Buffy needed right now, in her fragile state. He forced himself to take several deep – albeit unneeded - breaths and finally moved forwards, opening the door and walking in, Buffy following him slowly. The Scoobies looked up and fell silent as soon as he came into view. “Spike-“ Whatever Willow had been going to say was completely forgotten as his companion came into view, eyeing the occupants of the room warily. He saw the wave of shock ripple through them, one by one. “Oh my God,” Willow breathed, “It worked.” He clenched his jaw tightly to stop any kind of outburst and stepped aside, watching Buffy carefully as the group rose almost as one and descended upon her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There were too many of them. These nameless but recognisable faces that crowded around her. They were all talking to her but she could make no sense of their words. Her still blurry vision could hardly distinguish their features and helplessly, she turned her head, searching for the blonde man. The one who had pulled her from that dark, tight place. He stood at a little distance, watching her, and his steady gaze calmed her once more. She would be safe as long as he was watching over her, she knew that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He sensed her as soon as she left her room and turned his gaze to the stairs. The teen descended hesitantly, unsure what all the noise was about. He knew the exact moment she laid eyes on her sister as she went deathly still and her eyes went wide. She let out a gasp and her eyes flew to his, searching for reassurance. He nodded once and beckoned to her. She made her way down the rest of the stairs and paused at the bottom, staring at the back of her sister’s head. Seeing the girl, the group stepped back and he saw Buffy’s wary gaze fly to his. She turned and Dawn gave a tearful gasp. “Buffy?” Before anyone could say anything, the girl threw herself at her sister and embraced her tightly. He saw Buffy recoil but she did not pull away – although she did not return the embrace either. “Dawn,” he called softly, and the teen pulled away and looked at him with a teary gaze, “She needs cleaning up. Why don’t you take her upstairs, yeah?” The teen nodded slowly and gently took one of her sister’s hands. “I’m going to get you clean, okay?” she murmured, drawing Buffy towards the stairs. He saw Buffy throw a look at him, but then she followed her sister obediently, still eerily quiet. He turned towards the Scoobies and felt all of his anger return full force.

Chapter #3 - Three

CHAPTER THREE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Did you see her? God, it was really her.” “It worked.” “She’s back, she’s really back.” “We did it!” “We really did it.” As he heard the group rejoicing, congratulating themselves on their success, it took all the self-control Spike possessed to keep the demon at bay. It was screaming for their blood as he fixed an icy stare on the excited group. They were caught up in their triumph but slowly his stare had its effect and, one by one, they turned their attention on him, falling silent. They shared a look amongst themselves and Willow, apparently the bravest among them, took a tiny step forward and spoke to him. “Where did you find her?” He was taken aback by her question – of all the irrelevant things to say right now - but in a second, his rage returned. “Where do you think I bloody found her?!” The witch recoiled at his harsh retort and Xander now stepped forward, apparently ready to defend his women. “What’s your problem, Spike?! Buffy’s alive. I would have thought that’d be good news.” “You really don’t see what you’ve done, do you?” “We brought her back, Spike,” Willow said, half-defensively, half-cautiously. “You didn’t even dig her up first!” he bit out. There was a pause but after just a few seconds, he saw the horror dawn in their expressions as his words sank in. Willow let out a gasp and Tara covered her mouth in shock. “That’s right,” he continued in a scathing tone, “You left her in the ground. In her coffin.” “But I- I-“ He cut Willow off almost immediately, anger taking control. “What? You thought you’d do the spell, and ‘poof’, she’d be standing right there in front of you, right as rain?” “I-“ “Well it didn’t work like that! I found her exactly where she was left. In her coffin.” There was stunned silence and he continued, almost trembling with the force of his anger at their ignorance, their selfishness. “I happen to know a bit about waking up in your own coffin and let me tell you, it’s not an experience I’d like to repeat.” “But she… Buffy looks okay.” He gave a coarse laugh and stared down the witch. The foolish, naive witch. He could wring her neck. “Did that seem anything like the Buffy you knew?” he almost shouted, pointing towards the stairs. She paused and he saw the uncertainty enter her gaze for just a second before she pushed it away. “Of course it was her. She just- she’s disoriented. She needs to… to adjust to… being alive again.” “Might have been a bit easier to do if she didn’t have the trauma of clawing her way out of her own coffin.” Willow winced and he felt a tiny hint of pleasure that something, at least, was getting through. “And don’t think I don’t know what kind of magic you need to bring someone back,” he added lowly, holding her gaze, “Dark, black magics.” “I handled it fine.” “Did you tell them all the details?” he asked, nodding to the group, “All the sordid things you have to do to prepare for a spell like that?” She faltered and he nodded slowly. “Didn’t think so. Did you even think of the consequences?” “Buffy’s back, isn’t she?! We saved her from- from some awful hell dimension. That’s the most important thing!” Willow got out defensively. “Magic like that always has consequences. Always.” “Leave off, Spike,” Xander butted in, “Like Willow said, Buffy’s back and that’s the most important thing. You should be happy.” “Happy?” he scoffed, “Did you see her?!” “Look me in the eye and tell me seeing her again wasn’t the happiest moment of your entire existence.” His only answer for Xander was a cold stare. “You’ll pay for this, one way or another,” he warned, addressing the group as a whole, “Someone always has to pay.” He left them without another word and made his way up the stairs, listening in as he now heard Dawn’s low, calm voice. “There now, all clean. Knew you were under that dirt somewhere.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Although she knew it was her own, she barely recognised the reflection in the mirror. She could only stare at the lines of her face, trying to piece together the fractured memories in her mind. Even more unfamiliar than her own face was the girl with her, her sister. Dawn. She felt nothing towards this girl, her blood relation. She felt nothing at all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spike made his way to the bathroom and with a knock, opened the door a fraction. Dawn looked up and gave him a hopeful smile and he moved into the room. Buffy regarded him briefly and then turned back to look at her own reflection in the mirror. The only thing that gave him any hope was the tiniest spark of recognition in her eyes. She was cleaned up now, her hair brushed and pulled back into a ponytail, and with a change of clothes, she looked something like the old Buffy. “Everything alright up here?” Dawn nodded and Buffy regarded him slowly once more, before turning away again. There was a long silence, no-one quite knowing what to say, and he cleared his throat twice before speaking up. “You probably want to rest,” he suggested to Buffy, “Long… long day, and all.” She turned to him and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and simply nodded. “Your room’s still, you know, your room. Just like you left it,” Dawn rushed to add, with a hesitant smile. Buffy nodded mechanically and left the room, pausing for the tiniest of moments – almost as if she was lost - before turning and making her way into her bedroom, the door closing softly behind her. “She… she’s gonna be alright, isn’t she, Spike?” Dawn asked quietly and he turned to regard the teenager’s fearful expression. “Yeah, Li’l Bit. Course she is,” he lied, forcing his eyes from hers.

Chapter #4 - Four

CHAPTER FOUR ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Morning brought with it an awakening, both physical and mental. As the sun filtered in through the curtains, bathing her in light, Buffy’s splintered memories rushed back. She remembered everything – her mom, her friends, her lovers, her enemies. She remembered what she had lost and instantly wished she hadn’t. She sat up but couldn’t move any further, bombarded with memories of her past. Finally, the haze lifted completely and the events of the day before came back to her. Waking in that dark box, desperately trying to fight her way out. Her gaze went to her hands and she saw the still-raw cuts on her hands, her broken nails. And Spike. Spike had pulled her out into the world once more. He had brought her home and her friends – her friends were the ones who had done this. She remembered their happy faces, their barrage of questions. They had brought her back to this. And Dawn, poor Dawn. She couldn’t imagine what her sister had gone through without her. How long had she been gone? She had too many questions, too many memories whirling around her mind and she forced herself out of bed. It was still early and the house was eerily quiet. She washed and dressed and crept down the corridor towards Dawn’s room. She pushed the door open and the light spilled in, lighting up the sleeping girl. Dawn stirred and lifted her head, her gaze filling with relief as she spotted Buffy – as if she thought yesterday had been a dream. “Buffy?” “It’s okay, I’m just- I, err, I wanted to check…” She trailed off, not sure what she wanted to say. “Are you… are you okay?” Dawn asked. She met Dawn’s worried gaze and gave her a shaky smile. “I’m fine, I’m just a little…” “Yeah, of course. Do you want me to get you something?,” Dawn asked, already rising from her bed, “I could do breakfast or-“ “No, it’s okay. I… It’s early still. Go back to sleep,” she insisted, “I might… I might just go for a walk.” “Oh…okay,” Dawn said, settling back onto her bed. She gave the girl another shaky smile and went to shut the door once more. “I’m so glad you’re back, Buffy,” Dawn called and she paused, turning to regard her sister once more. Unable to echo the sentiment, she simply nodded and with a small smile, pulled the door shut behind her. She wandered down the stairs and took in the changed appearance with a quick glance. She had not asked yesterday but as soon as she saw the laptop and books nearby, she could guess that Willow – and probably Tara too – were living here now. So much had changed. Had it been months? A year? It had seemed like a lifetime for her. She didn’t know what to do, lost and unfamiliar in her own house, so she headed outside, into the bright morning. The light hurt her eyes for a moment, but she soon grew accustomed to it and took in her street in the early morning light. Everything was still and she moved on quietly, eyes taking in sights she had not seen for – for however long it had been. Her thoughts drifted back to the events of last night and her mind stopped on Spike. If it was not for him, she might never have got out of that hole. Something in her, despite her dazed state, had trusted him implicitly. And he had led her home, had watched over. There was something strangely unsurprising about his presence, as if it had been meant to be that way. As if he had always been there. Knowing that he would answer her questions – after all, he had always been a fount of honesty before - her feet now turned in the direction of the cemetery where Spike lived. The crypt was unchanged since she had last seen it but for just a moment she paused, wondering if Spike could have moved on to somewhere else. There was only one way to find out and she went to the heavy door, pushing it open cautiously. Light flooded into the room and several familiar objects were illuminated in the gloom. Certain that this was still where Spike lived, she ventured in, looking around the crypt for any sign of the vampire. Suddenly, she heard a noise from below and a moment later, Spike appeared, a knife gripped in his left hand. “Buffy!” he got out in surprise as he spotted her. “Hi.” “Talking today,” he noted, “That’s good.” She smiled hesitantly and he cleared his throat, setting the knife down on a ledge. “You can, err, sit,” he said quietly, gesturing to the only chair. She was amused by Spike’s sudden awkwardness around her now that she was talking again but as she sat and caught sight of his concerned expression, her smile disappeared. “Are you… How are you feeling?” She met his eyes and was momentarily lost for words. Lost, confused, scared. “I’m… I’m fine. I, err, I actually had some questions.” “No-one at home?” he asked in surprise. “Oh, erm, yeah. I just… I wanted… I thought it would be easier to… to ask you.” His eyes widened with silent surprise and he leant against a nearby sarcophagus, watching her carefully, waiting. She shuffled nervously for a moment, but then forced her eyes to his. “How long was I gone?” She saw the pain flitter across his expression, but he swallowed hard and held her gaze. “Hundred forty-seven days.” Was that it? Barely five months. Something in her face must have reflected what she was thinking because he spoke up again. “How long was it for you… where you were?” A lifetime. And more. “Longer.” He swallowed hard once more, his eyes darting to the floor and back to hers. “Was it… was it awful?” he whispered, visibly struggling to say the words. She paused, her pre-prepared answer stuck on her tongue. She looked to the ground and let out a long breath. She didn’t know why, but she knew she couldn’t lie to Spike. Even if it was going to break his heart. “No.” She hardly realised she had spoken out loud until she heard Spike’s sudden harsh breath. She raised her eyes to his and saw him silently pleading for her to explain. “Where- where…” “I think… I don’t really know, but I think I was… in heaven.” “No,” he breathed, turning his back on her. Although he had hidden his face, she could see by the tension in his whole body just how her words had affected him. He suddenly let out a cry and punched the top of the sarcophagus, letting out a groan of pain almost instantly. She rose to her feet, drawn to his side, and placed her hand tentatively on the arm that still rested on the sarcophagus. He moved his hand and she saw the cuts he had just inflicted on himself. “Your hand.” “Same as yours,” he murmured with a quick glance at her hands, his eyes swimming with emotion when they met hers once more. He cleared his throat, looked away, and then turned to face her. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Buffy.” “Why?” she asked in surprise. “For… you… you were in heaven,” he breathed, “And now…” “I’m pretty sure you weren’t in on the spell-doing.” “I-“ “It’s okay, really. I’m… I’m here,” she said simply, forcing a tight smile. He regarded her for a moment, reaching out with his hand to touch her shoulder – but pulling it back again. “If… if you’re in pain, or if you need anything… if I can do anything for you…” She shook her head silently, wishing he could. “You can’t.” His blue eyes bore into her, stripping away the layers of pretence and, growing uncomfortable, she moved away. “Erm, my friends… don’t, err, tell them what I just told you.” When she met his gaze, she noticed his surprise and she gave a half-smile. “They were… happy and I… I can’t tell them what they did.” He looked like he wanted to protest but stayed silent, watching her closely. “Anyway, I should probably get back. Dawn will be waiting and… yeah…” “If you… I’m always here, you know that,” he said softly, as she paused at the door. “I know… Thank you.” She gave another half smile and stepped out into the sunshine once more.

Chapter #5 - Five

CHAPTER FIVE A/N: Oh dear, it's been an awfully long time again. I promise I haven't given up on this. I've simply been distracted by work and as of the last week, an obsession with Twilight. I'm on book three now and I'm hooked. But fear not, Spike will always be my favourite vampire... Anyway I hope you enjoy this update. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She supposed it was time to get on with her life once more – to return to her duty. It had been mere days since her return to life, and a single day since she had told Spike the truth about her post-death experience. She had been haunted by the expression in his eyes for two days now. She could only imagine her friends with the same expression and it twisted at her heart. How could she ever tell them? She couldn’t. So she lied. She thanked them for ‘saving’ her, pretended that she was happy – and tried not to think about that perfect, warm place too much. And now it was time to resume her duty as the Slayer. She felt an anticipation close to dread as she headed out into the darkness of Sunnydale, hoping she would remember, hoping she had lost none of her skills in the one hundred and forty seven days she had been gone. He had counted. She didn’t quite know what to think of that. She never really knew what to think of this new Spike, the one who was not her enemy. Even now, as he trailed her at some distance through town. She pretended not to notice as he stalked her and instead was glad that he stayed back. It would be too hard to look him in the eye now that he knew her secret. And she wasn’t sure she would be able to bear his hurt, sorrowful expression. She was all too glad when distraction presented itself in the form of two vampires up ahead. No more than fledglings, by the look of it; something easy to start with. A chance to get back into the swing of things. She strolled up casually, her hand wrapped around her stake – hidden behind her back. “Whatcha doing?” she asked in a childlike voice as she got close to them. They stopped their conversation and turned to her, predatory grins spreading across their faces. “Well, well, what we got here?” one of them asked, giving her a leer. “She looks tasty.” “Tasty?!” she echoed, “Is that all I get? Hello! Slayer here! Yummy Slayer’s blood.” “I heard the Slayer was dead,” one of them spoke up, challenging her. “You heard wrong.” She leapt forward and punched the vampire in the face. He recoiled, growled, and then squared his shoulders, preparing for battle. His friend did the same and she settled into a fighting position, waiting for their move. They flew at her and she managed to dodge one as she landed a kick on the other, sending him flying into a nearby grave. She laughed and ducked under the first vampire’s arm as he threw a punch at her. He growled and lashed out at her again – and this time, she was too slow. His blow made her head spin but she righted herself quickly. This time he smiled and his friend rejoined them, both of them facing of against her. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought. They flew at her again and she managed to deflect one, but the other caught her and sent her to the ground. She rolled quickly to her feet once more, rubbing her sore arm with a slight frown. Something didn’t feel right. Her limbs felt heavy, delayed as she fought them; it felt like too much hard work. Maybe she really was rusty after all that time rotting in the ground. She frowned and ducked another hit. She spun into a kick, but was surprised when it barely hit the target. The vampire smiled and it was then that she genuinely started to worry. Taking advantage of her distraction, the second vampire managed to grab her from behind and for a moment, she panicked. She struggled and kicked out as the other vampire approached her. She felt the slightest graze of fangs against her neck and – in a moment of madness – she froze. His fangs pierced her neck and she let out a cry. Suddenly, she was released and she stumbled to the ground, watching on in a daze as a blur of black quickly took out both vampires in a matter of seconds. It was Spike, of course. He stood in front of her, looking down at her in concern. “Are you okay?” he asked with a frown. “Yeah,” she whispered shakily, getting to her feet slowly. His eyes slid to her neck, to the hand she now held there and she saw his nostrils flare before he moved closer, moving her hand aside and inspecting the wound. “Need to clean you up.” “I’m fine,” she protested weakly. “You won’t be before long. You smell far too tempting.” She frowned and he took her elbow, surprising her with his forwardness. “Come on.” He was already steering her onwards and she looked up at him in surprise. “What are you doing?” “Taking you somewhere to get cleaned up.” “I can’t go to the shop,” she spoke up when she realised the direction he was taking, “They’ll just worry.” He frowned but without a word, he shifted course, now guiding her – almost pushing her – in the direction of his crypt. They reached his crypt and he somewhat forcefully sat her down on a sarcophagus before disappearing into the lower part of the crypt and returning moments later with a first aid kit. He placed it on the sarcophagus beside her and stood regarding her for a long moment. She shrank under his gaze and turned her eyes from his. He went into motion then, opening the kit and taking out some wipes. He swept her hair to the side and began to clean the wound silently. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her and she dropped her gaze to the floor. There was something very strange about Spike tending to her wounds. “It’s been a long time since I got bit.” She raised her eyes hesitantly to his and saw his frown. “They were fledglings. Shouldn’t have been able to get so close. What happened?” “I – I don’t know.” “You were slower,” he pointed out, his eyes drifting to her neck as he carefully cleaned the damaged skin. “I know.” “Weaker too.” “I guess so,” she whispered helplessly. There was an awkward silence as he finished applying a dressing to her neck and she could almost see his mind working as he packed the first aid kit away. “I guess it’s only natural,” he murmured, “You’ve only just-“ “Yeah,” she breathed, clutching at the idea, “I’ll be fine in no time. I’m just… rusty.” “Yeah,” he echoed softly, his eyes holding hers – searching for something. “I should really go,” she muttered, dragging her gaze from his and sliding from the sarcophagus. “Buffy,” he called and she paused, turning back to face him, “Be careful.” She wanted to tease him – her former enemy – for his concern but something in his expression stopped her and she swallowed hard and nodded once.

Chapter #6 - Six

CHAPTER SIX ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She stood studying the wound on her neck in the mirror with a frown. It had been days and the red marks that the vampire had left behind still stood out. There was only so long she could wear polo necks to hide the marks – to stop her friends from worrying. There was nothing to worry about. It was simple taking a while for her Slayer abilities to kick back in. All the more reason to hone them on patrol. She couldn’t deny that – for the first time in years – she felt the tiniest prickle of fear, radiating out through her from the place she had been bitten, but she was determined to ignore it. ‘Once bitten, twice shy’ was not a saying to be applied to Slayers. She was just rusty. And if she was not very much mistaken, she probably would not find herself alone for tonight’s patrol; she hadn’t missed the new cigarette stubs littering the base of the tree outside her house. Spike had been watching over her and, strangely, it reassured her in a way it never would have done before. After covering up the marks on her neck with a neck scarf and pausing to converse with her friends – still nervously over-excited, but treating her with caution – she finally left the house and set off for the nearest graveyard. She was more than well-equipped tonight: as well as her usual supply of stakes, she was wearing a cross around her neck and had a bottle of holy water stashed in her back pocket. Just in case. Unfortunately – or perhaps not – the nearest cemetery was quiet and she moved onto the next, lost in her thoughts. “Evenin’, love.” She jumped at the sound of Spike’s voice and spun round in surprise, causing him to give her a confused look. It was strange – she usually sensed Spike a mile off, but she couldn’t even feel that tell-tale tingle now that he was standing just opposite her. “You alright?” he asked worriedly, drawing her out of her daze. “Yeah,” she answered hesitantly, “But I think my spidey-sense is broken.” “Your what?” “You know, the little tingle that lets me know when vampires are around.” He tried to hide it, but there was a positively devilish glint in his eyes and he was barely restraining his smirk. “Not like that!” she bit out, folding her arms over her chest as he smiled. She rolled her eyes and continued. “You must have a similar thing. Slayer-radar or something.” “S’pose so,” he answered with a dismissive shrug, taking out a cigarette and lighting it as they began to walk, “Mind if I join you?” “You’re not exactly going to leave if I say ‘no’, are you?” He grinned, shook his head, and took a long drag of his cigarette as they moved on. She still felt uneasy though, not used to being so un-attuned to Spike’s every move. It was all too taking too long to return to her, and panic was waiting in the shadows for her. This was her life. “Slay- Buffy?” She looked up to find Spike watching her with concern. It triggered only anger. “Why won’t you call me Slayer?” she asked angrily. He looked genuinely surprised by her outburst and raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t like it.” “That never stopped you before.” “Well, I don’t like it now,” he answered slowly, looking at her as if she had gone slightly insane. “Do you –“ She cut herself off, unable to voice the words that would bring panic closer: Do you think there’s something wrong with me? She was over-reacting. “It’s only been a week or so,” Spike said quietly, as if he had been reading her mind, “Your body just needs time to catch up, yeah?” She met his eyes for a moment, and then forced hers away, not wanting him to see the uncertainty there. She moved onwards. Spike walked along in silence beside her as she fixed her eyes on the ground – although she saw nothing before her. She was tense, too caught up in her thoughts, and stumbled on a small ridge she had not seen. Spike caught her by the arm and she shook him off quickly. “I don’t need you looking out for me,” she blurted out and his eyes widened ever so slightly. He said nothing though and took a last drag from his cigarette. “You can stop hanging around outside my house too,” she added, “It’s creepy.” “I-“ He cut himself off and she looked up quickly, surprised to see bashfulness in his expression. She drew her gaze away once more, focussing all her attention on the ground now. “Buffy, are you alright?” “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” she answered, her throat constricting involuntarily and making her voice come out hoarser. He caught her arm, bringing her to a forceful stop and drawing her eyes to his. “You never have to lie to me, Buffy,” he said softly, “Not to me.” She knew that, but if she couldn’t lie to Spike then she couldn’t lie to herself either and a little bit of ignorance was comforting right now. “I just… it’s taking longer than I thought. To get back to normal.” He frowned but released her arm, his expression softening minutely. “You’ve hardly been out of the ground ten days,” he said softly, “Your body… well, sod it, I don’t know. But it… it makes sense, doesn’t it? That it would take a while.” She desperately wanted to believe his words so she nodded hesitantly. “I guess so.” Neither of them voiced the alternative that must have been going through both their minds. “It’ll be okay.” “Yeah,” she answered, trying to hide her uncertainty with false confidence, “And hey, at least I’ve got a tame vampire to watch my back.” His mouth twisted into a silent growl but he made no retort and they moved off once more side-by-side. Only moments later, they were confronted with the sight of a rather large demon – armed with a club, no less – heading in their direction. She shook herself off and forced a smile as Spike glanced over at her. “Let’s take this ugly boy down.” He smiled ever so slightly and as soon as the demon spotted them, they flew at him in a co-ordinated attack. She had been training every day since her last patrol and she prayed that it would pay off as she landed the first blow on the demon. Her kick had little effect but she was relieved to see that the punch Spike threw had just as little effect. The demon swung the club and they both ducked it, Spike quickly moving round to attack the creature’s back as she landed a kick on its knees. Spike jumped on the demon’s back, locking his arms around its neck as she threw several punches at its abdomen. The demon roared – more at Spike’s stranglehold than anything she was doing she suspected – and swung the club again. “Buffy!” She heard Spike’s warning, but could not react in time and before she knew it, she was flying through the air. She hit a hard surface with a thud and everything went black.

Chapter #7 - Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Buffy!” Spike could only watch on in horror as Buffy failed to dodge the demon’s club and it landed a solid blow around her head. She went flying, collided with a crypt, and was instantly knocked unconscious. He let out a low growl, fury bubbling up inside him, and before the demon could make any move, he tightened his hold on its neck and twisted until he heard a loud snap. He jumped off the demon as it fell to the ground and rushed to Buffy’s side. He crouched beside her and hesitantly pressed his hand to her cheek. “Buffy? Buffy, love?” There was no reaction and as a trickle of blood made its way down the side of her neck, he began to worry. He moved her carefully and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against him. The smell of her blood swarmed around him and he tightened his hold, hoping there were no other demons nearby. He turned back towards town – but paused. Buffy hadn’t wanted to go to the shop before, fearing her friends’ reaction. Without another moment’s hesitation, he turned in the direction of his crypt and quickly moved away. He couldn’t risk standing out in the open with a bleeding, unconscious Slayer much longer. He reached his crypt in no time, and his anxiety increased when Buffy still showed no signs of stirring. Maybe she had hit her head harder than he had thought. He couldn’t remember it being that easy to knock a Slayer unconscious. He frowned and carried her down into the lower part of the crypt. He paused for a moment – embarrassed – at the side of his bed, but then laid her down gently, guiding her head down onto the cushions. The cut on the side of her head started to stain the fabric almost instantly and it propelled him into motion. He quickly found the first-aid kit (it had never been in much use before, but had been kept as a precaution, mostly for Dawn’s benefit) and turned her head carefully to one side, frowning again when he saw the long gash on the side of her head. Her hair was stained red around it and he brushed it aside. He did his best to clean the wound, feeling clumsy in his attempt, and finally just sat there, holding a cloth to her head. She had to start coming round soon, surely? She had been out for ten minutes or more. He brushed his free hand over her forehead and started when she let out a tiny moan. Slowly, her eyes flickered open. Her eyes landed on him instantly and she frowned in confusion. “Spike?” Her voice came out weakly and she kept blinking as she tried to focus on him. “It’s alright, love.” “What- I-“ She moved to sit up but suddenly noticed his hand pressed against the side of her head and frowned. “What…?” She raised a hand to nudge the cloth, her eyebrows knit in confusion. “What happened?” “Got thrown against a crypt and knocked out.” “My head hurts,” she moaned, apparently just becoming aware of this. “It’s a pretty nasty cut,” he told her, watching her with concern. She frowned again and touched her hand to her head just beside his. “Scared me for a minute there,” he admitted softly, cursing himself for even saying the words when she gave him a wide-eyed look. She quickly looked away though and he saw her swallow quickly. “Not the only one scared,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. He studied the side of her face and he could have sworn he saw her chin quiver. “Buffy?” She turned her gaze to his and the confusion in her eyes hit him like a shock. “What’s wrong?” he asked quickly. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip and turned away from him, visibly fighting her emotions. “It’s alright, love. S’just a little bump.” She gave a pitiful laugh and turned watery eyes on his. “That’s not the problem and we both know it.” He didn’t want to know what she was suggesting but it was obvious. It all added up. “It’s just a side-effect.” She forced another smile but could not hold it and dropped her gaze from his. “I have to face the truth,” she murmured, her voice thick with the tears she was obviously struggling to hold back. She met his gaze once more and the fear he now saw there scared him. And made him want to reach out and take her in his arms. Protect her. “You don’t know-“ “I do,” she interrupted, holding his gaze, “I’ve been trying to ignore it… trying to not pay attention to all the little things that were right there in front of me… I’m weak… I can’t fight… I can’t even feel you nearby anymore…” “Buffy,” he whispered, wishing he could take away the pain she was feeling. She looked so lost, so fragile. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes once more, fixing her watery gaze on him. “I have to accept the truth. I’m not the Slayer anymore.” It was like a sledgehammer to the chest. He had known it, had sensed it along, but just like her, he had been in denial. Being the Slayer was such a big part of what Buffy was that without it she seemed… smaller. Helpless. She was shaking under his touch, he noticed, and with horror he realised that she was crying. She turned her head away from him, brushing away the tears and it just about broke his undead heart. He wanted to say something, anything to make her feel better. But there were no words. For once, Spike was speechless. He should have known. He didn’t feel that frisson – that warning – around her anymore. The vampire acknowledging the Slayer’s power. He had thought he was simply blinded by love for Buffy, but it wasn’t that. There was simply nothing there anymore. He felt the loss as acutely as she did. He knew too well how devastating this was to the woman he loved: could witness it now in her shaking shoulders, her pitiful attempts to silence her sobs. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to her, although he restrained himself enough to simply lay his hand on her shoulder. As he had done once before. She jumped a tiny bit with his touch, but it did not stop her tears and she buried her head in her hands, leaning ever so slightly towards him as she curled her legs up towards her chest. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered helplessly, wondering even as he said it just how that could possibly be true, “Shhh.” And then it happened: almost by accident, Buffy leaned just a tiny bit further, until he could feel her shoulder against his chest, feel her body warming him. He hesitated, torn, but after a moment’s consideration he very slowly, very carefully, moved his arm and laid it around her shoulders. She slumped against him and after his shock had passed, he dropped the cloth and raised his other arm, locking it around her. Buffy was in his arms. It was a dream, but nothing like he had ever imagined. Not like this. He murmured to her wordlessly and simply held her, wishing he could help - but knowing there was nothing he could do.

Chapter #8 - Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She had never thought it would feel like this. She had always wanted to be free from the burden of being the Slayer. She had dreamed about it and wished for it almost since the very instant she had learned of her power. She had fantasised about being free all through her tumultuous relationship with Angel, all through her attempt to be normal with Riley. She would have given anything back then. And now she was free. But instead of the relief and happiness she had expected, she felt empty, lost. Being the Slayer was such a big part of who she was. More than a job, a vocation – her whole life. Class Protector and all that. Now that was gone and she was left hurting in a way she never would have imagined possible. Being the Slayer was everything. Protecting people was what she did. And now she was just as helpless as any of the hundreds – maybe thousands – of people she had saved: the throbbing in her head and the blood staining her fingertips left little doubt of this. Everything she had known had been turned upside down and although she tried to stop the tears provoked by the sudden ache inside her, she could not. Embarrassment came later, when she had calmed down enough to realise that she was desperately clinging to her one-time enemy. What were they now? No longer Slayer and vampire. Was she just food to him now? The thought made her frown and finally brought her dwindling tears to a halt. Spike froze as she lifted her head and the strong arms that had been enveloping her were withdrawn quickly – maybe even fearfully. Not that she could pose any threat anymore. She wiped her hands across her eyes nervously and forced a smile, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry about that.” He was silent for a moment and she thought she saw him reach out for her, but he sat up a bit straighter suddenly, hands twisted together nervously. “No need to apologise.” After another moment of awkward silence she gave a weak smile and forced her eyes to his. “Thank you,” she whispered. He swallowed hard and she looked away, the tenderness in his eyes making her uncomfortable. “I guess I should get home…” She was already rising to her feet when he jumped swiftly to his. She looked to him in surprise. “I’ll walk with you.” “Spike, I…” She trailed off, not sure she even had a defence anymore. She was easy prey – even easier because her head was still a little woozy. Remembering that, she untied her hair and let it fall around her shoulders, trying to cover up the blood stains. “Do I look okay?” She looked up and Spike darted his gaze to her head. “I mean, I don’t look too messed up or anything, do I? I’m not going to make anyone worried?” He was about to answer but paused, his expression twisting into a frown. “You’re not going to tell them?” “Of course not!” she answered in surprise. “Buffy-“ “They don’t need to know.” “I think they might notice something’s up when you stop patrolling.” “Who said anything about stopping patrols?” He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Are you out of your mind, Sla- Buffy?” She could tell he was struggling for control as he asked her this tersely and she did not miss his quick correction. “The Hellmouth still needs protecting.” “Not by you.” “You can’t stop me.” Spike took a step towards her at that, glowering down at her, teeth bared ever so slightly in warning. “You sure about that?” He loomed over her for a moment longer and then turned away with an exasperated sigh. She let out a shaky breath and tried not to let it get to her that she really was vulnerable now. If it weren’t for the chip, Spike could kill her in an instant and she wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him. The thought made her shiver and she wrapped her arms around herself. Spike was mumbling to himself, obviously agitated, and she felt the urge to reassure him. “I’ll be okay.” He turned to face her, his gaze boring into her. “I can still fight. It’ll be like… like I’m just really good at martial arts. Like a bad-ass action hero or something,” she reasoned with a shaky smile. She could tell by the way he pursed his lips that Spike was not happy with her suggestion, but he remained silent. “Will you, erm, walk me home though?” she asked hesitantly, “My head’s still a little…” The hard lines of his face instantly softened into tenderness and she looked away, blushing faintly. He slipped on his coat and gestured to the ladder silently. She climbed up it quickly and they stepped out into the darkness together. It was a silent walk back across town, and as they walked, her mind was racing. How did this happen? Did she come back wrong? Was this a gift – reparation for losing heaven? She had no answers. They reached her house and lingered on the path. She was about to say her goodbyes when Spike spoke up, halting her. “I – I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her eyes were drawn to his by the sincerity in his low voice and she found she could not look away. “I promise you,” he continued, his eyes shining in the darkness as they held hers, “I – I missed my chance… before. But nothing is going to stop me from keeping you safe now.” His intensity was soon replaced by nervousness and he shoved his hands in his pockets, retrieving a packet of cigarettes and his lighter. “Just thought you should know,” he added in an attempt at nonchalance. “I can deal with that.” He gave her a look of surprise but then nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Good.” She lingered a moment longer, but then turned towards the house. “I… I guess I’ll see you soon.” Spike said nothing and she took a fortifying deep breath. “Goodnight. And… thank you for…” “Night, love.” She gave him one last small smile and slipped into the dark house, shutting the door silently behind her. She crept up to her room and quickly changed into her pyjamas. She went to get into bed – exhausted and emotionally spent – but a sudden thought stopped her and she went to the window. Sure enough, despite her earlier warning, Spike was standing next to the tree, smoking as he watched her window. She knew he had seen her when he straightened up suddenly and she smiled softly before moving away from the window. She had called his actions ‘creepy’ only a few hours before, but now, as she curled up protectively under her covers, she felt safer in the knowledge that her house was being watched over.

Chapter #9 - Nine

CHAPTER NINE A/N: I've taken ages to update again, sorry! I've been busy and we'll be even more so for the next week or so (I'm getting married!!) so I don't know when the next update will be. I promise I'm not giving up on this story though. Even married women have time for Spike ;-) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was just like any other day at the Magic Box. Everyone was sitting around, chatting, flicking through magazines and, in the case of Xander and Anya, squabbling. They had repeated this scene a hundred, maybe even a thousand, times. But she felt wrong, out of place. Here she sat, hiding not one but two quite devastating secrets. Secrets she could not tell her closest friends; could not tell her sister. The only person she could turn to was a vampire. There was something about Spike that drew her to him now, persuaded her to confide in him – and if she thought about it, it all stemmed from the night he had helped pull her from her grave. Something had changed that night, even though she had been unaware of anything at the time. She had recognised Spike, deep down in her foggy memory, and she had trusted him implicitly. She still did. She had been unable to hide the truth from him, had been unable to keep herself together in his presence. So now he knew. And somehow, once again, she trusted Spike not to share her secrets with the people it would harm most. She drew herself out of her daze and got to her feet. “I guess I should get patrolling.” “Are you alright, Buffy?” Giles asked, “You’ve seemed a little out of things this afternoon.” “I’m fine,” she reassured him, “Just need to go work out some issues on some demons.” “Well, be careful.” She gave a crooked smile, knowing that she needed to heed his advice more than ever now, and turned to leave. “Bye guys,” she called to Xander and Anya, sharing a smile with Willow as they waved goodbye – whilst still continuing to squabble. “See you later,” she called to the two witches and left the shop, the bell jingling as the door shut behind her. “Evenin’.” She jumped as Spike stepped out of the shadows to her right and glowered at him. “You scared me!” “Sorry, love.” She smiled, shook her head, and fell into step beside him. They walked along some way in silence before she spoke up. “So, how long were you waiting outside for me?” “Since sunset,” he answered with a casual shrug. “You really don’t have to.” “Told you I would keep you safe,” he said softly, avoiding her eyes, “Can’t very well do that from the comfort of my chair, can I?” She gave a little laugh of disbelief and they carried on into the town. She would never admit it out loud, but she felt better now that he was at her side. They strolled through the third graveyard on their route so far and she did not know whether to lament or rejoice at how quiet this night had been. She almost dreaded facing a vampire with this new knowledge: she could lose. She could be killed. She had never let those thoughts trouble her as the Slayer – her confidence in her strength and skill had meant she felt prepared for any fight. Now she was nervous and she was pretty sure Spike had noticed it, with the way he kept darting looks at her. “Stop it,” she said, struggling to suppress her smile. Spike came to a halt and stared at her in surprise. “Stop what?” “Stop checking.” “I’m not – well, I mean… Yeah, alright.” His shoulders sagged in defeat and he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. “S’quiet tonight.” “Shame.” He raised an eyebrow as he studied her, making her turn her face away embarrassedly. “Don’t need to prove yourself, you know.” “Don’t I?” she challenged him, meeting his gaze, “You think I can’t do this.” “Maybe you can. Just not itching to have you in a fight.” She glared at him, but his eyes were distant, lost in some memory. “Already lost you once.” She had already looked away when his eyes focussed on her once more. “I’m a little more clued-up than your average Sunnydale resident,” she said, quickly avoiding any awkwardness caused by his emotional words, “I know what to do. I’ll be okay.” “We’ll see,” he murmured half to himself. She wanted to be angry with Spike – knew the old her would have been - but she just couldn’t summon up any anger because, after all, he was right. She could so easily get hurt. Killed. She could fight but she was nothing compared to a vampire with any kind of experience. She shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s get out of here,” she spoke up, “There’s nothing here.” Spike gave her a long look, but nodded and followed her as she headed out of the graveyard – and away from any potential danger. They wandered aimlessly for a while, until she realised they were close to Restfield. “Can we go to yours?” she asked. “You want to go to mine?” “I thought we could… hang out,” she murmured, trailing off with a shrug when she realised how strange that sounded. “You want to hang out with me?” Spike looked almost dazed in his surprise. “That’s what we’re doing right now, isn’t it?” she answered, unable to meet his gaze, “I thought maybe we could sit down somewhere. My feet hurt.” He gave her another long look and then gestured towards Restfield. “After you.” They made their way over to Spike’s crypt and she followed him slowly, feeling awkward. He threw off his coat and gestured to the armchair. “Only got the one chair…” “I’m good,” she said, lifting herself onto a sarcophagus. He studied for a few long moments, his eyes trailing over her face. “Your head looks better.” “I had a headache for a bit the next day, but it wasn’t too bad.” “Good,” he said softly, his gaze making her nervous again. “So… what do you usually do in the evenings?” she asked, looking around the almost empty crypt. “Patrol… drink… bit of TV.” “Exciting life you live,” she teased, smiling as she glanced at him. He smiled back and got to his feet, going to the fridge and rooting around for a few moments before retrieving a bottle. She raised an eyebrow but he said nothing, pulling the top from the bottle and taking a long gulp. “You want some?” he asked, holding the bottle out to her. “What is it?” she asked. “S’just wine.” “I’m not really a drinker.” “It’s not that strong,” he said with a smile, settling back into the chair, “Running a bit low on supplies.” He took another gulp and she watched him for a few moments, before speaking up. “Can I try some?” He smiled and stood, coming over to her and handing her the bottle. She took an experimental sip and stopped, assessing the taste. “It’s not so bad.” Spike just laughed and she took another, longer mouthful. His hand on her arm stopped her. “Woah there. No need to go chugging it all down.” He took the bottle from her and disappeared across the crypt. “Let’s see if we can make this a bit more civilised, yeah.” He came back with one short, cracked glass and a mug and placed them down on the sarcophagus next to her. “Real civilised,” she commented with a smile, taking the glass he handed to her. He smiled back and raised his mug to her before taking a long gulp. She raised her glass to her lips and took a mouthful, the sweet taste of the wine spreading around her mouth. She felt it move through her, relaxing her and leaving her a little lightheaded. It felt nice to let go, to forget about everything that was going wrong in her life.

Chapter #10 - Ten

CHAPTER TEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She woke and instantly let out a moan as her head started to thump. What on earth did she get up to last night? This felt worse than being knocked unconscious. She tried to sit and raised her hand to her spinning head, moaning lowly. It was then that she realised she was not in her own room. Definitely not in her own bed. It took a moment to recognise the room and almost as soon as she did, its owner appeared. “Spike.” His eyes ran over her and he smiled ever so softly. “How you feeling?” “My head hurts.” “Not surprised.” “I didn’t get knocked out again, did I?” “No, love,” he said with a smile, “Just drank a bit too much wine.” “Told you I wasn’t a drinker.” “I can tell,” he laughed, “You only had about three glasses. Then you were sick. Then you fell asleep.” She moaned and covered her face in embarrassment. “Brought you down here to sleep. Seemed a bit much to try to get you home. Hope that’s alright.” She looked up and he looked genuinely worried about her reaction. “Good thinking. Thank you.” He relaxed and nodded. She shifted forward and slowly moved her legs over the edge of the bed. It felt far too weird to be in Spike’s bed. She got to her feet and wavered almost immediately. Spike caught her and guided her back to the bed. “Maybe you should sit still for a bit.” “My head is spinning,” she moaned. “It’ll take a few hours to stop.” “Uhh. If only I still had Slayer healing.” They both fell silent and Spike straightened up, releasing her. She let out a nervous laugh and dropped her eyes to the floor. “Guess I’ll have to get used to that,” she murmured. The silence stretched out between them and she could feel Spike’s eyes on her. She lifted her head hesitantly and met his eyes. “What?” she asked quietly, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. I died… so many years ago… She froze. Spike was singing… to her. It was beyond weird. But you can make me feel, like it isn’t so… Why did it seem like the most normal thing in the world for him to suddenly be singing? And where did that background music come from? Her eyes were drawn to Spike as he took a step closer to her, his eyes boring into her. And why you come to be with me, I think I finally know… “Spike.” Calling his name had no effect and she watched him, dread filling her senses. You’re scared, ashamed of what you feel, And you can’t tell the ones you love, you know they couldn’t deal “Spike,” she called again, his words hitting home and making her uncomfortable. Whisper in a dead man’s ear, it doesn’t make it real… It was too much. She couldn’t take it anymore and despite her spinning head, she jumped to her feet and ran from Spike’s crypt as fast as she could, leaving the music and his words behind her. But little did she know, even as she fled from him, that Spike was not the only one affected by this singing madness, and it would soon bring her world crashing down around her. Before the singing finally came to a stop, it delivered one last blow. She had gone to face down the demon who had started this chaos and after a fight with his minions that left her bruised and exhausted, his magic had brought her secret – one of her secrets - to the fore. There was no pain, no fear, no doubt ‘Til they pulled me out Of heaven. She had fled straight afterwards, unable to face her friends, to see the horror in their faces. She hadn’t stopped running until she reached Spike’s crypt – her safe harbour once again. She had burst through the door and startled the vampire. “Buffy?” “Sorry, I just… I…” She couldn’t go on, breathing erratically as she fought her emotions. Before she really knew what was happening, Spike was guiding her into the chair he had vacated, crouching in front of her as he watched her carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked, his hand hovering over a bruise on her arm left by one of the minions. “I’m okay,” she breathed. He frowned and she hurried to continue. “I mean, I’m not okay. Really not okay. But I’m not hurt.” He relaxed a tiny bit, but did not shift from his position in front of her. “What happened?” “They know.” He said nothing and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “God, the look on their faces…” “More singing?” he asked quietly, searching her gaze. She met his gaze for a long moment, remembering the words he had sung to her, and then spoke up. “I told them about heaven. I didn’t mean to. It just kinda happened.” She could still see every face in front of her, white with shock and horror. She could see Willow’s tears. “How did they take it?” She couldn’t hide the anguish in her expression when she raised her eyes to his and he reached out for her hesitantly. “I know you probably thought they should know anyway.” “Only so they would know how much they’ve hurt you,” he answered softly, his fingertips just lingering on her knee. She brushed her hand over her eyes and struggled to calm herself down. “I’m sorry. I really need to stop doing this to you. You must be tired of me coming round, crying all over the place…” Why you come to be with me, I think I finally know The words he had sung came to her in a flash and she dropped her gaze from his with a frown. Did he really think she was just using him as a listening post because she couldn’t bear to tell her friends her secrets? Not that she could completely explain what drew her here. “Buffy, you coming here…” She raised her head as he started to speak, softly, hesitantly. He paused, seemingly not knowing what to say. “I don’t mind,” he finally said, brushing his fingertips over her own. She wrapped her fingers around his and smiled ever so softly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “Now, what happened? Where’d you get those bruises?” She explained to Spike everything that had happened since she had left his crypt that morning: the singing, the demon and his plans to make her sister his bride, her unwilling confession. “Long day for you then,” he joked. She smiled and nodded slowly. A moment passed in silence and she dropped her eyes to her hands before speaking up. “Spike, can I… is it okay if I stay here again?” She risked a glance at the silent vampire and dropped her eyes again when she saw his shocked expression. “I can’t bear to go home.” “Of c-course you can, love,” Spike finally got out, “Anytime.” She dared to raise her eyes to his and smiled softly, letting herself bask – for once – in the love shining from his eyes. “Thank you.”

Chapter #11 - Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN A/N: It's probably going to be a while until I update this again, so I thought I'd give you a treat... enjoy... ;-) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was almost too good to be true. Just a few metres away from where he sat, Buffy was sleeping in his bed. He had tried to sleep himself, but the smell of her filled his senses and all he could hear was the low thud of her heart, her soft breathing. It was distracting enough to bring him downstairs to the chair at the end of the bed. Now he just sat watching her, studying the expressions on her face – she was stressed even in her sleep, her forehead wrinkled with an almost constant frown. He wished she could seek refuge in sleep, but knew it was no good – he had heard her cry out more than once, tonight and the night before; he had guessed that the grave still plagued her dreams. After all, he had been the one to tell her friends how traumatic the experience was – he wasn’t surprised to find Buffy was still suffering. She stirred in her sleep and he watched her carefully, wishing he could wipe the frown from her face. She let out a little moan but settled back to sleep again, seemingly comfortable in his bed. The thought affected him more than he thought was perhaps proper in this situation and he rose to his feet, restless and on edge. A noise from above drew his attention and as the door to his crypt swung shut with a slam, he quickly grabbed a knife from a dresser and made his way to the ladder, looking up into the darkness above. “Spike?” As soon as Dawn called his name, he dropped the knife and rushed up into the upper part of the crypt. Dawn jumped a little at his sudden appearance and he quickly lighted a few candles. “Dawn, what are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?! It’s the middle of the night and you’re out walking through Sunnydale and-“ He cut himself off when he saw the girl’s devastated expression and softened, stepping towards her. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his instinct to comfort the Summers’ girls kicking in. “I was looking for Buffy. Is she here?” He paused for a moment, but then decided to tell her the truth. “Yeah, she’s downstairs.” Dawn moved towards the trapdoor but he stopped her with a gentle hand. “She’s sleeping. Best leave her to get some rest, yeah?” Dawn nodded hesitantly and moved to sit in his chair, her expression tainted with sadness. “Did you know?” she asked, and he didn’t need clarification as to what she was asking. “Yeah.” He decided not to add that he had known for weeks now. “She was in Heaven,” Dawn breathed. He let out a sigh and moved to crouch in front of the girl, forcing her eyes to his. “Yeah, pet.” “We took her away from that.” “We didn’t take her away from anything, Nibblet.” She met his eyes sadly and nodded. “No. They did. But I still…” “I know, pet.” “She’s not happy, is she?” He didn’t know what to say to that, was unsure whether to lie. “I think it’s a struggle,” he answered softly, “But she’ll… she’ll get there, L’il Bit.” He tried not to let his own uncertainty show in his voice. “I was so happy to have her back,” Dawn said, “And now I don’t know what to feel.” “Stick with happy to have her back,” he encouraged, “She needs you to help her through, yeah?” “She doesn’t hate me?” “’Course not, L’il Bit. Now, come on, let’s get you home.” Dawn rose to her feet and threw a glance at the trapdoor. “I’m glad you’re looking after her.” He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, throwing on his jacket and ushering the girl out of his crypt. He saw Dawn safely back into her house and then retraced his steps across the town and back to his crypt. The crypt was still silent as he shut the door behind him and threw his jacket off. He dropped down into the lower part and found Buffy still asleep, curled up on one side. He went to her side and studied her, daring to reach out and smooth one finger across the frown still present on her forehead. She stirred with his touch and opened her eyes sleepily. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” “What time is it?” “Still late. Just past midnight, maybe.” She nodded and sat up a tiny bit. “Was someone here before? I thought I heard you talking to someone.” “It was Dawn.” She sat up straight, her eyes wide with worry. “Is she okay? What happened?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to soothe her. “She’s fine. She was just looking for you.” “Did you tell her I was here?” “Yeah.” At her look of panic, he quickly added: “Is that alright?” She raised her eyes and nodded slightly, forcing a smile. “Might take some explaining.” He smiled and her smile grew slightly wider. “Were you always this tall?” she asked suddenly, “Gonna hurt my neck.” He didn’t know what prompted the comment but dropped to a crouch in front of her. She laughed. “Spike, sit down,” she said, shifting over and gesturing to the bed. His eyes went wide but he rose up and sat on the bed. She was silent for a moment, her gaze moving to her hand where it played with the edge of the bedding. “Was she okay? Dawn?” She met his gaze with a worried look. “A bit upset.” She dropped her head and he continued, needing to reassure her. “She understands though. She was just worried about you… about you being happy.” “When did my little sister grow up so much?” she asked with a sad smile. “She was worried you might hate her, too.” “Why would she think that?” she asked in surprise. “Because of what you lost.” “It wasn’t Dawn’s fault.” “Anyone who really loves you can’t help but feel bad about what you lost,” he murmured. Her eyes met his and he became more than aware of just how close she was. He cleared his throat nervously and looked away, knowing she was uncomfortable whenever he gave away too much about his feelings for her. Her warm fingers on his shoulder drew his startled gaze back to her. “Spike,” she breathed, her eyes brimming with tears. He stayed deathly still, unsure what she was thinking, what he had done to cause this reaction. Her fingers twitched against his neck and she shifted forward. He froze completely as she touched her lips to his. She was gone before he could even process it, but her taste lingered on his lips, burning him. He stared at her and she flushed, looking away. “I should, erm, get some more sleep.” She gave him one last shy look and then turned her back on him and lay down on the bed once more. He rose to his feet, still staring at her, his fingers rising involuntarily to his lips. She was asleep in moments but he lingered long into the night, watching over her, trying not to let the memory of her kiss get him carried away.

Chapter #12 - Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE A/N: I have returned!! Sorry it took me so long. Enjoy... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was dark. Cold. Cramped. And she was stuck. She hit out with everything she had, but the dark walls around her wouldn’t budge. She let out a cry and tried again. She was shaking now, fear and desperation setting in. She had to get out but she didn’t know how. She let out a helpless whimper and kicked out again, as hard as she could. The jolt rippled through her leg, jarring her joints, and she let out a gasp. “Please,” she begged with a tearful voice, “Please.” She knew she couldn’t give up. She hit out again at the dark walls and again, nothing happened. “Please!” She screamed this time, her voice already hoarse, but the sound simply echoed around her. She was losing the energy to carry on, but she kept going, desperate to escape from this place. She smashed her hands against the wall only inches above her head. “Please!” she sobbed. “Buffy!” She could hear a voice, a familiar voice. And then she was shaking – but not of her own accord. “Buffy.” With a gasp, she bolted awake, only to find Spike holding her arms tightly, shaking her. The nightmare still echoed in her mind and she couldn’t slow her breathing down. “It’s alright,” Spike said quietly, worried eyes examining her. She nodded, but her heart was still thumping and she had to swallow hard to fight back an onslaught of tears. This was not the first time she had had this nightmare, but it still left her shaken. “It’s alright, love. It was just a nightmare.” She nodded again, her lower lip trembling. Spike’s grip tightened on her arms and she gave him a despairing look before leaning forward and resting her head against his chest. He froze for a split second but then he was releasing her arms, only to envelop her in his strong embrace. She twisted her fingers in his T-shirt, holding onto him tightly as he wrapped his arms around her, one hand just resting on her hair. “It’s alright,” he whispered, “I’m here. You’re alright.” Despite his words, she couldn’t stop her body from trembling and she clung to him even tighter, relishing the feeling of his strength surrounding her. She felt safe in his arms, protected. “Shh,” he murmured, his breath stirring her hair. She left herself relax into his embrace and slowly, the trembling calmed, until it was only the occasional shudder. “You wanna talk about it?” She shook her head quickly. “Okay, love.” They stayed like that for several long minutes. She was surprised by just how comfortable she felt in his arms, by the warmth that spread through her and by the feeling of security he gave her. Finally, she raised her head, leaning back from him ever so slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I think so,” she said shakily, “I just…” “I know.” He lowered his hand and she felt a pang at the loss of his touch. She raised her hand and absentmindedly touched it to his cheek. His eyes widened at her action but that did not stop her from tracing her fingers over his jaw and touching them to his soft lips. He was absolutely still and as she met his gaze, she felt her heart start to race. She knew exactly what she was doing, but there was no way she could stop herself: she leaned in, ever so slowly, and brushed her lips against his as she had done the night before. Except this time, she did not pull away again – and as soon as Spike realised this, she felt his lips move against hers. He was so gentle, so wary: every brush of his lips a test. Soon, she could bear it no longer and with a sigh, she moved her hand to the back of his neck, drawing him closer and increasing the pressure on his lips. He reacted in an instant, his lips crushing against hers as his hand tangled in her hair, holding her close. She was overwhelmed by how right this felt, how natural. She slid her other arm around him and drew him closer – but suddenly, with gentle hands, he guided her away. She met his gaze with a look of bewilderment. “Buffy,” he murmured, his voice low, husky. He drew his fingers over her hair and she couldn’t help closing her eyes in pleasure. And then he was gone. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes snapped open to find him standing across the room, his back turned to her, his hands braced against the wall. “Huh?” She was baffled by his words and his sudden distance. And even more baffled by how much she wanted to be back in his arms. This was Spike. A vampire, and even more dangerous to her now than he had ever been. But she was drawn to him. He made her feel safe, but most importantly, he made her feel special. Even though she was no longer the Slayer, he still loved her, still made her feel like she was his equal. Her long silence must have started to worry Spike because he turned to her now, watching her carefully. “Buffy?” “Hi,” she answered with a smile and he gave a smile in return, his relief evident. “Are you- what-“ He was at a loss for words and she couldn’t help smiling at this unusual turn of events. “I, erm, I guess I really should get home.” “Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes boring into her. “Dawn will be worried and… well, I guess I might have some damage control to do.” All of sudden, the events of last night came back to her and she frowned. “A lot of damage control.” In an instant, Spike was close again, his hand hovering like he might reach out and touch her. “You did the right thing. They needed to know.” “Maybe,” she agreed hesitantly, “I just… how am I going to face them now?” “You can hide here as long as you like,” he started with a half smile, “But they might come after you at some point.” She laughed, a brief image of her friends breaking down Spike’s door to get to her flitting through her mind. “I guess it’s just something I have to get out of the way.” She rose to her feet beside Spike slowly, feeling the electricity pulsing between them. She met his gaze and swallowed hard, fighting her desire to touch him, just once. It wouldn’t be such a good idea. She knew something pretty monumental had happened here – as much as they were ignoring it - and until she had had time to process it, she couldn’t be in his presence because the temptation was too strong. And Spike deserved more than that. “So,” she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll… I’ll see you soon.” “Yeah.” It took all her self-control to tear her eyes away from his and with a quick ‘goodbye’, she hurried out of his bedroom, out of his crypt, and into the sunshine.

Chapter #13 - Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN A/N: It's been an age, I know. I apologise profusely and offer Spuffy goodness in atonement. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It had been two days and he was sure he could still taste her on his lips. Buffy’s kisses had left him a state of near-agony. He had barely been able to sit still, let alone rest, since he had torn his lips from hers out of some sort of gentlemanly courtesy that he now regretted. He didn’t know if it had been her nightmare that had propelled her to seek some sort of comfort, or something else – something he wouldn’t even let himself consider as an option – but the fact was, she hadn’t returned. He wasn’t sure if she would. Perhaps she would be too embarrassed. Perhaps she wouldn’t have the heart to shatter his precious hopes. He was desperate to see her though. Now he had tasted her, he was intoxicated more than ever. Her kisses had been like fire, burning through his entire being, and her hands – her small hands clutching at his neck and pulling him closer. It was maddening. He didn’t dare to venture out, just in case she came looking for him, but all alone in his crypt, he was starting to go mad. He had emptied out no small number of whiskey bottles and his supply was pretty much gone now. Yet, he waited still, hoping she would come, even if not to give him what he so desperately wanted: her. There was nothing interesting on the television and he flicked between the channels aimlessly, the last of his whiskey drained. It was almost midnight and he had almost given up hope that tonight might be the night she came to see him. She wouldn’t be out this late by herself – she knew better than that. Or so he hoped. No sooner did he think that, then the door to his crypt creaked open and Buffy appeared, cradling her arm against her, eyes wide with pain. “Buffy!” “Spike,” she whispered, her face twisting into a grimace of pain. Unable to hold himself back, he rushed to her, his eyes racing over her. “What’s wrong?” “My shoulder,” she moaned, “I think… I think it’s dislocated.” “Dis… How?” She gave him a shamed look, her eyes looking to the floor. “I was on patrol.” “What? By yourself?” He was angry at her, for endangering herself so recklessly, but when she let out a helpless whimper, his attention quickly returned to the problem at hand. He placed a hand on her good shoulder and guided her to his chair, pushing her to sit before crouching in front of her. He took her hand and gently guided it away from her bad shoulder – and as soon as he did, she gasped in pain. “Okay, shh,” he murmured, releasing her arm for a moment. “It hurts.” “I’m sure it does.” He reached out and, as carefully as he could, rested his hand over her shoulder. It didn’t feel right at all, but he couldn’t see properly with her cardigan. “Need to get a better look, love,” he said quietly, fingering the fabric. Buffy’s eyes widened and he heard her heart stutter, but after a moment she nodded quickly. He slowly unbuttoned her cardigan – trying to hide the shaking of his hands – and guided it from her. She winced as he slipped it off and brought her hand back to her shoulder. She was wearing only a small vest now and he made a conscious effort not to take in all the smooth skin on view. He could see almost instantly that her shoulder was dislocated so he didn’t go to the trouble of hurting her anymore by touching it. “There’s only one thing for it.” She nodded quickly, biting her lip. “Do it.” “Maybe you should go to a hospital.” “No! No hospitals.” “Buffy-“ “Please,” she pleaded, gripping his hand with her free one, “Please, Spike, it hurts.” “Are you sure?” he asked, torn between wanting to help and not wanting to hurt her anymore. “Yes. Please do it,” she got out hurriedly, her teeth clenched in pain. “Okay,” he said softly, “Okay.” He released her hand and placed one hand in front of her shoulder and one behind. He paused, giving her one last chance to back out, but she nodded quickly, shutting her eyes tightly and bracing herself. In one swift movement, he pushed at her shoulder and she let out a cry as it slipped back into place. Unable to stop himself, he drew her gently into his arms, brushing his hand over her hair as she cradled her arm against her chest, taking long, deep breaths. “Better?” he murmured, rubbing her back. She nodded against him and he let out a sigh of relief. He tucked her cardigan around her shoulders and held her tightly “Good.” He didn’t want to let go of her: he was overwhelmed by the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her invading all his sense, the thud of her heart. She did not seem inclined to move either and he rested his cheek on her hair, closing his eyes. Maybe he had died and gone to Heaven. Trying to curb the urge to hold her tighter and to kiss her, he spoke up instead. “How did it happen?” She tensed and pulled away, avoiding his eyes. “Buffy?” he got out, perplexed. She turned her gaze back to him but immediately dropped it to her knees. “I fell over,” she mumbled, so low he barely heard it. He was stunned into silence for several long moments and she raised her head, took one look at him, and jumped to her feet. In seconds he was on his feet too and he stopped her by the door, holding her by her good shoulder. “Buffy.” “I’m useless! I can’t do anything. It doesn’t even take a demon to take me out. Just a stupid gravestone!” She took a deep breath after her tirade and dropped her eyes to the floor, her whole posture mirroring her shame. “Buffy.” She did not respond and he reached out, touching his fingers to her face and drawing her reluctant gaze to his. “Buffy, when are you going to realise you can’t do this anymore?” She paused and he saw her shoulders sag. “What else am I supposed to do, Spike?” she whispered, eyes pleading him, “This is what I do. It’s the only thing I can do.” “I can’t let you get yourself hurt like this.” “It’s not your decision to make.” His anger threatened to overwhelm him and he took a step away from her, clenching his fists tightly. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you carry on like this,” he said. She squared up to him, looking every bit the Slayer she had been. “This is my job. I can’t just walk away.” “How many more dislocated shoulders is it going to take before you realise you are not the Slayer anymore?” “It was an accident,” she bit out, her eyes flashing with anger. “All it’s going to take is one accident and you’re on the wrong end of a vamp’s teeth!” “Forget it, you don’t understand!” She turned to go and he followed her, caught up in his anger. He grabbed her by her good arm and dragged her back towards him, glaring down at her. “I won’t let you do this!” “You can’t stop me!” “You think?” he bit out, unconsciously tightening his grip on her arm. She met his glare for several long moments, too stubborn to back down. “You’re hurting me,” she finally said after a long silence. He released her with a growl and moved away. He wanted to wring her neck, he wanted to shake some sense into her – anything to make her see that she was not the Slayer anymore, that this wasn’t her job anymore. He suddenly realised she had been silent for far too long and he turned to her, carefully trying to control himself. He froze when he found her staring at him, now holding her good arm. “What?” he got out, wondering what could have put that spooked look in her eyes. “You hurt me.” “I’m sorry,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair – and freezing when he realised what Buffy must have. He met her gaze with wide eyes, not knowing what to think. “You hurt me… and it didn’t hurt you.” “Buffy-“ He had taken a step towards her but she held out her hand to halt him. He could hear her heart thundering and her eyes flew over him uncertainly. When she threw an unconscious glance at the door, he realised with a pang that she was afraid. Of him. “Buffy,” he called, drawing her eyes to his, “Listen to me.” He was desperate to move closer but he held himself back, wary of spooking her. He held his hands out to the side in a show of surrender. “I would never hurt you, you know that.” There was a long silence and he watched her face, wishing he could know what was going through her mind as several different expressions passed across her face. “But I’m… I’m a completely normal human now. Why…” His mind was reeling with the knowledge that his chip was either malfunctioning or completely broken and he almost missed the slight edge in her voice. Almost. His eyes met hers and in an instant he realised what had her so worried. “You are human.” “So how can you hurt me? … Just like you can hurt other demons?” He couldn’t stay still any longer and he moved forward, pausing only inches from her, wishing he could reach out and hold her. “I don’t know, but - listen to me –“ He caught her hand, drawing her eyes back to his as she went to turn away, “You are human.” She nodded but uncertainty lingered in her eyes still. “And I would never hurt you.” “I know,” she whispered after a pause, squeezing his hand in hers. She may not have known how much those words meant to him and he swallowed hard. “I should go home.” He wanted to ask her to stay but she was looking nervous again and she slipped her hand out of his. “I’ll walk you.” She made no protest and they set off into the night together.

Chapter #14 - Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Morning came and as she woke, she moaned at the dull pain in her shoulder. She reached up and touched it, prodding experimentally. It was still sore and she was sure she would have some bruising. A quick look in the mirror quickly confirmed this and she moaned again, touching her fingers to the large purple bruise marring her skin. Another wound to hide from her friends. She frowned and grabbed a towel from her closet before heading for the bathroom. She went to open the door and just as she did, it flew open and Dawn almost collided with her. “Oops. Hey Buffy!” “Morning.” “Morning! How - oh my God!” “What?” she got out, worried by Dawn’s sudden exclamation and shocked expression. “You’re hurt.” She hadn’t even realised her shoulder was on show and Dawn was staring at the large bruise. “It’s nothing.” “That’s the biggest bruise I’ve ever seen.” “It’ll be fine in a few days.” “A few days?” Dawn asked with a frown. “I mean, you know, probably tomorrow.” “That must have been some big ass demon,” Dawn commented, eyes searching hers. “Yeah,” she answered with an attempt at a laugh, “Should’ve seen the other guy, huh.” Dawn gave her a half-smile, suspicion lingering in her expression, and stepped out of the way to let her into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and sank against it with a sigh. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to lie to the people she cared about. She frowned at the thought and stripped off her clothes before climbing under the hot spray of the shower. She spent the morning looking through job adverts and then, bored, headed to the shop in the afternoon. The whole gang was at the shop already and it was only when she was greeted by a nervous silence that she remembered they were still tiptoeing around her after her musical revelation. There had been little discussion about her big secret since then and her friends seemed more than happy to pretend it had never happened. Which worked just fine for her – even if she was a little miffed that they didn’t show more remorse. After several bright smiles on her part, her friends finally started to relax but she could sense their nervousness in everything they did and said. So much for things being better when secrets were out in the open. She just wished Spike were around to see how much of a bad idea it was to tell secrets. And she still had one more hidden from them. As if her thoughts had conjured him, a moment later she heard a bang in the back room and Spike emerged. Now he was there, she had to admit that she wasn’t really annoyed with him for urging her to tell her secrets. It just seemed easier to be annoyed with him than face the rational argument: her friends needed to know she wasn’t the Slayer anymore. For everyone’s safety. She shook her head and looked up as Spike settled on the stairs not far from where she sat. She gave him a tiny smile as she saw him studying her worriedly and looked away quickly. “Hey, Buffy, you should look at this, it’s really interesting.” She turned her attention to Willow, who was holding out a large, leather-bound book. “There’s a whole entry on Slayers.” “New book?” she asked with a smile at her friend’s enthusiasm. Willow smiled and handed the large volume to her. She let out a groan of pain and quickly shifted the book to her other hand. She didn’t miss the looks of concern darted her way, especially from Dawn, and smiled shakily. “Damn those demons really pack a punch nowadays,” she joked, quickly laying the book down on the table. The group laughed but she saw Dawn glance at Spike before narrowing her eyes at her. “She knows. Dawn knows.” “She’s worried about you, is all,” Spike commented. It was late evening now and they were wandering through their third cemetery. “She saw the giant bruise I got.” “Doesn’t mean anything. You’ve been hurt before.” “You didn’t see the way she looked at me.” Spike turned to her, his hands shoved in his pockets as if he were trying to avoid touching her. “Buffy, would it really be so bad if the L’il Bit figured it out?” “Yes! Yes it would!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed, “You don’t get it, do you? I’m supposed to be able to protect her.” “That’s what I’m here for,” he replied, adding quietly a moment later, “That’s what I promised.” She met his gaze and felt her fingers twitching with the urge to reach out for him. She folded her fingers into a fist and moved on once more. “I can’t ever let her get hurt,” she murmured, almost to herself. “And you won’t.” She glanced at Spike, calmed – at least temporarily - by his reassurance, and they carried on in silence for several minutes. “You know, we still need to talk about your chip being broken.” Spike came to a sudden halt and turned to her, a myriad of expressions crossing his face. “Buffy, I… you know I would never hurt you.” “What about the others?” “What others?” he asked in confusion. “Everyone else who’s not me.” She saw anger flash across his expression just before he turned from her and she winced. He took a long breath before turning back to her, his hands clenched at his sides. “You have to believe me, Buffy. I’m not – I’m different now.” “You’re still a vampire, Spike,” she whispered, hating herself for the words only a moment later when she saw the hurt look he tried to hide. “What, so I have no self-control?!” “I didn’t mean that.” “What did you mean?” he asked angrily, grabbing her arm, towering over her, “If I’m so dangerous, shouldn’t you be worried that I could kill you in a matter of seconds?” He bared his fangs but she squared her jaw, holding his gaze. “It would be so easy,” he growled lowly, his free hand circling her other arm. Her heart skipped a beat but she knew she had nothing to fear. Not when the hand holding her bad arm was holding her so gently, apparently subconsciously. Suddenly he released her and moved away, his back turned to her. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” She frowned, not sure what he was talking about. “Huh?” He turned back to her, his expression pained. “Can’t do what?” she asked, fear creeping through her. “I can’t keep having this argument with you.” “Huh?” she repeated inelegantly. “I can’t keep trying to convince you I’m not the bad guy.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “And I can’t go on watching you get hurt because you won’t face the truth.” She was angry at his words, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest stunning her into silence. “You- Wha-“ “I need some space. I need to… I can’t be around you right now.” He finally met her gaze, his eyes bright with emotion. “I’m sorry, Buffy.” She couldn’t think of a thing to say. “Be careful,” he murmured, reaching out for her – but pulling himself back at the last minute. He held her gaze for a long moment and then turned and walked away.

Chapter #15 - Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He didn’t know how he had managed it but he had stayed away from Buffy for a week. A long, long week of using all the self-control he possessed to keep from running to her side. He needed the time away from her, a break from the torture of always worrying about her, a break from constantly arguing with her. She would not stop putting herself in harm’s way because she felt it was her duty and there was nothing he could do to change that. He wouldn’t want that part of her to change, but he couldn’t sit by and watch her get hurt again and again. And then there were her feelings about his chip. It hurt that she thought he would kill again, even if she seemed to feel secure in her own safety. And that was all she really needed to worry about: he had done a little investigating in the last week and several nasty headaches had quickly shown him that it wasn’t the chip that was the problem. Buffy had changed and now, for some unknown reason, she did not register on his chip. He didn’t dwell on that for long: he was the least of the dangers facing her now. He settled in for a night in front of the television with a bottle of his favourite whiskey, persuading himself that things hadn’t been better when Buffy was spending most evenings with him. He opened the bottle and downed a large mouthful, letting the alcohol warm his tongue. It had barely started its path down his throat when, with a bang, his door flew open and he swallowed in surprise, coughing as he jumped to his feet. “Spike!” The youngest Summers ran to him, distress in every feature. “What is it?” he asked, panicked. “Buffy,” she gasped, out of breath – apparently from a run across town. “What happened, Dawn? Is she-“ “Willow too.” “Huh?” “Demons… and that – that -” “Catch your breath first, Bit.” He guided her into his chair, desperately trying to make sense of her garbled sentences. Dawn took several long breaths and finally spoke up. “There were demons and that guy, the one who cut me on the tower.” “What?” he growled. “They attacked the shop and they took Buffy and Willow. He said something about opening up a portal.” “They took Buffy,” he repeated numbly. “They knocked her out straight away,” Dawn said worriedly, “And he used a spell so Willow couldn’t do anything.” He got to his feet, trying to calm down so he could think clearly. “Come on,” he said after only a moment, “Where are the others?” “Still at the shop. Giles was hurt. I ran straight here.” “Okay,” he soothed, running a hand over her shoulder, “It’ll be alright. Let’s get to the shop and see what’s going on.” He had to make a conscious effort to slow his pace with Dawn at his side, when all he wanted to do was run. The Doc was going to hurt another Summers girl and it would be all his fault. He should never have walked away from her. “Spike?” “Yeah, Bit?” he answered distractedly. “Buffy’s not… she’s not the same, is she?” He drew to a stop, looking down at the teenager and wondering if she had guessed what he thought she had. “What do you mean?” “That creepy guy knocked her out in seconds. Seconds.” “Come on, pet, he’s stronger than he looks,” he reasoned, “Threw me off a tower.” “Spike, she hardly put up a fight. I know something’s not right. And I know you know.” He drew his gaze from hers, staring out at the path in front of him, almost wanting to smile. Clever girl, his Nibblet. More perceptive than anyone guessed. “S’not my place to tell.” He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye, but she let it go and they hurried onwards. The shop looked like it had been hit by a small tornado. There was smashed wood, glass, and random shop artefacts scattered all over the room. Giles sat at the table, a cloth held to a large cut on his head whilst Xander, Anya and Tara sat opposite him, worried looks on their faces. They looked up as Spike and Dawn entered the shop and he didn’t miss Xander’s scowl. “I don’t know why we need him,” Xander murmured, just under his breath. “Don’t see you being of much use, Whelp,” Spike said angrily, his worked-up state making him harsher than usual, “Or any of you.” “Well, first we need to find them,” Giles spoke up, his voice calm as he tried to ease the tension in the room. “I-I can do a locator spell. I’ve g-got Willow’s bag here,” Tara volunteered. “Do it,” Spike said and the witch nodded, rising to her feet quickly. “I’ll help you,” Anya volunteered, rising with her. The two disappeared into the stock room in search of supplies and Spike took a seat at the table. “What exactly happened here?” “Those guys just barged in,” Xander explained, “Smashed things about. Threw us all out of the way.” “It seemed Buffy was their aim,” Giles added. “And Red?” “I don’t think so. They certainly knew about her to subdue her… I think taking her was a precaution.” Spike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t bear sitting, waiting, whilst knowing that Buffy was in such danger. And it was his fault. Tara and Anya reappeared, carrying the supplies they needed for the spell. “I-I’ve got everything, I think,” Tara said, “We’ll go in the back room and do the spell now. I-it shouldn’t be long.” She threw a glance at Spike, as if sensing his anxiety, and went through into the back room, Anya following close behind her. Spike rose to his feet and helplessly began to pace, his mind going over and over his last meeting with Buffy. If only he hadn’t got so worked up, hadn’t walked away. He stopped mid-pace as a very familiar smell hit his nostrils: blood. Buffy’s blood. “Don’t think we’re going to need that spell,” he spoke up, his gaze moving to the door just as Willow stumbled through, struggling to support Buffy. He moved quickly to her side and took the load from her, moving into the shop and laying her on the floor. Tara and Anya quickly rushed into the room upon hearing the commotion and Tara and Willow embraced in relief. “Are you okay?” he heard Tara whisper, but did not catch Willow’s answer: his attention was focussed on Buffy. She was unconscious, a large cut marring her forehead, her lip torn. “Is she okay?” Dawn appeared at his side, looking over her sister in concern, and they were soon joined by the others. “She hasn’t come round from when they took us,” Willow explained, frowning. As he looked up, he noticed the black ring around the witch’s eyes and quickly surmised that she had used magic to free them. “How did you escape?” Giles asked. “I knew he would have to weaken the spell on me to open the portal so I quickly reversed the spell when I got the chance,” Willow explained, something like smugness tingeing her voice. Spike frowned and turned his attention to Buffy, dying to reach out and touch her, but wary in front of her friends. “That’s… that’s not normal, is it?” Xander asked hesitantly, “I mean, for a Slayer. That she’s still out.” “Looks like she took a pretty nasty bang to the head,” Spike murmured. “It is rather odd,” Giles added, apparently not heeding Spike’s words. Spike glanced up and caught Dawn watching him intently. She gave him a meaningful look but said nothing, turning her attention to the group. Just then, Buffy gave a moan and all attention turned to her as she slowly came round. Her eyes fluttered open and landed first on Spike, then Dawn, then scanned the group. “Ow,” she moaned, sitting up slowly, her hand on her head. “Are you okay?” Dawn asked, moving to a crouch beside her sister. “Yeah, I’m fine, Dawnie,” she answered with a reassuring smile. Annoyed and struggling to hide it, Spike got to his feet and retreated to the table, not missing Buffy’s eyes following. “God, how long was I out?” Buffy joked. “An hour at least,” Willow answered, the frown not lifting from her features. “Wow. That must have been a pretty hard hit,” Buffy murmured, touching her forehead. “It didn’t really look that hard,” Xander said, he too frowning now. He saw the moment her friends’ seriousness hit Buffy and she took a shaky breath before getting to her feet. “Buffy, are you quite alright?” Giles asked seriously, “It seems rather strange that you would be injured so badly by a rather tame blow.” Buffy flicked a glance in his direction, seemingly faltering as she tried to think of something to say. “I-I… I don’t know how to tell you this,” she got out finally, her voice strained, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “Tell us what, Buffy?” Willow asked worriedly, “What’s wrong?” Buffy took a deep breath and levelled her gaze at her friends. “I’m not the Slayer anymore.”

Chapter #16 - Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There was absolute silence. Painful, nerve-wracking silence. Six pairs of eyes stared at her in various stages of shock and confusion. Only one looked at her differently, with something like admiration: Spike, of course. Long seconds had gone by since she had made her announcement and her friends remained silent. Not even Xander, who could always be counted on to talk without thinking it through. They just stared at her, until the weight of their stares forced her eyes to the floor. “How long have you known?” Dawn’s voice broke the silence, finally, but did nothing to ease the tension in every muscle of Buffy’s body. She raised her head and met her sister’s tearful gaze. “Almost as long as I’ve been back.” There was silence again, shorter this time. Now Dawn had spoken out, the rest would follow. “But… how?” Xander asked, “How did this happen?” “I don’t know.” Spike gave a snort and attention turned to him briefly before returning to her. “It was me, wasn’t it?” Willow spoke up, “The spell… bringing you back…” “Told you magic like that always has consequences,” Spike said in a low voice and Willow turned to him with a look of despair. “Spike,” Buffy pleaded. “What? It’s true.” “I don’t know why this happened,” Buffy spoke up, “It just did. And there’s nothing I can do to change that.” She sighed and let out a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Giles asked. “I was afraid… I thought… I thought you wouldn’t trust me to keep you safe anymore,” she ended on a whisper. “And what of your own safety?” Giles replied softly. She smiled sadly, her eyes flicking to Spike. “I didn’t think about that.” “You got hurt,” Dawn spoke up, “That bruise… and that other time, when you said you’d been in a bad fight…” “Dawnie-“ “And you knew!” Dawn rounded on Spike, pointing a finger at him angrily, “You knew and you didn’t stop her!” Buffy went to her sister’s side, shaking her head at Spike and stopping him before he could respond. She took Dawn’s arm, forcing her to look at her, and then looking over her friends, who were regarding the vampire in astonishment. “It’s not Spike’s fault,” she said calmly, “He tried to stop me loads of times.” She sighed and met his gaze, “I didn’t listen.” His expression softened and she looked away, returning her attention to her friends. “I didn’t want to listen because I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have that power anymore. And I… it’s been my job, my life, for so long now and I… I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know who I am anymore.” “You’re still my sister,” Dawn spoke up with a tiny smile. Buffy couldn’t help but smile and she and her sister exchanged a hug. “We could have helped you,” Willow said. “Yeah, we can patrol,” Xander added, “Those bad guys won’t know what’s hit them.” She smiled, tears threatening to overwhelm her as her friends sought to reassure her. “We can certainly keep the Hellmouth safe, even without a Slayer,” Giles said. “But… will you have to tell the Council?” “I suppose so. There’s very little they can do though. The line continues with Faith now.” She nodded slowly. “I have an idea actually. Follow me.” She was still trembling slightly as she led the group down into the back corner of the store-room. She finally spotted her target and moved to it, tugging the large sheet that covered it away. Her own face looked back at her. “The Buffybot?!” Xander got out in surprise. “Yep.” Buffy had got a shock when she had stumbled across the slightly ruined remains of the robot in the storeroom one afternoon but now she saw it as a symbol of hope. “I guess we did use her when you were… not here,” Willow said quietly, “I can fix her up real easy.” “She looks like me, she fights like me, and she doesn’t get hurt like me,” Buffy said, more hopeful with every moment that passed, “It’s perfect.” “It would help,” Giles added, regarding the robot speculatively. “No-one will ever know there’s no Slayer here.” There was silence over the group for a moment until Xander spoke up. “It’s just weird. I mean, you’ve always been the Slayer. And now, suddenly you’re not.” “I know,” she said with a wistful smile. “It’s okay though,” Willow added with a pointed look at Xander, “I mean, it doesn’t really matter.” “No, I guess not,” Buffy breathed in reply, finally relaxing. They stayed at the shop well into the night, talking and going over their plan, until Giles finally suggested it might be time to go home. After exchanging a hug with her Watcher and then with Xander, Buffy set off for home with Dawn, Willow and Tara. They were halfway across town when she stopped. “You know what, you guys go on without me.” “Buffy?” Dawn got out in confusion. “I… There’s someone I need to go see.” Spike had slipped out not long after she had revealed her plan and she had not had a chance to talk to him… to thank him. Dawn seemed to understand and nodded. “You’ll be okay?” “I’ll be fine, Dawnie,” she reassured her sister, giving her a quick hug, “I’ll see you guys later.” They moved off towards Revello Drive as she turned her steps towards Restfield Cemetery, her heart thumping in her chest. She reached Spike’s crypt in no time – thankful that she had not banged into any demons – and knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. Spike was standing in the middle of the room and looked up when she came in, as if he had been waiting for her. “Hi.” “Hi.” There was an awkward silence and when their gazes met, she gave him a shaky smile. “You were right.” His eyes widened in surprise but he said nothing and she moved further into the room. “I’m sorry. For not listening to you and for generally causing you so much, you know, trouble and stuff.” “Buffy-“ “I should have told them weeks ago. You were right.” She sighed and let out a shaky laugh. “You were right about everything and I’m sorry.” She met his gaze and was taken aback by the emotion she saw there. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Buffy,” he got out softly. “I really do,” she whispered, stepping closer, “I’ve been so stupid. I’ve put everyone I love in danger.” “They understand.” “And I hurt you,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on his as she took another step closer, “What I said, about your chip-“ “It doesn’t matter,” he protested. “It does. I’m sorry.” She took one last step closer, coming to a halt within inches of him. She raised her hand and tentatively touched it to his cheek. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.” “Buffy, you don’t-“ “Shh,” she whispered, touching her fingers to his lips, silencing him. He watched her warily as she hesitated, briefly, before rising up on her toes and replacing her finger with her lips. At the first touch of their lips she sank into him and he caught her, one arm wrapping tightly around her waist as his other hand touched her neck, holding her close. She held on to him tightly, succumbing – finally – to the feel of his lips against hers, to his cool touch. Letting herself enjoy the way he made her feel cherished, and yet so strong – all at the same time. They parted and he breathed her name, drawing her eyes to his. He searched her gaze, his eyes filled with bewilderment. She traced her fingers over his jaw, his neck – unable to stop touching him now that she had started. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” He recoiled and released her and she frowned in confusion. “If this is some sort of thank you –“ “Spike,” she said, stopping him and moving close to him again, “It’s not.” He paused, unsure. “It’s not?” “No,” she said seriously, reaching out to touch him – desperate for that connection. “You-you got a pretty bad knock to the head today,” Spike got out, moving away from her again and this time to a safe distance. She watched him with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Am I missing something here? I’m practically throwing myself at you and you… you’re all the way over there.” Spike met her gaze, still searching for something in her eyes. “Buffy, I love you.” “I know,” she breathed, bringing him to a temporary halt. “You know I’m always here for you. Whatever you need, whatever you want…” “But?” “But I can’t let you use me like that. I can’t do it, love. Being so close to you and knowing…” He trailed off and his gaze fell to the floor, his whole body sagging. She crossed the room to him but kept her distance, waiting for him to raise his eyes to hers. When he finally did so, he looked torn. “What is it going to take to make you realise that I want you?” she whispered earnestly. “Buffy,” he whispered, his eyes closing as he fought for control. “The way you make me feel… The way you look at me…” Burning blue eyes met hers and she felt the electricity pulse between them like a jolt. “I need you, Spike.” In a matter of seconds she was in his arms and as his lips met hers, the last of the tension in her body drained away.

Chapter #17 - Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was in some sort of heaven. He reached out and touched the head of the angel beside him, his fingers threading through her hair. She shifted ever so slightly with his touch and the warmth of her body shot through his. But this was no dream, no heavenly fantasy – this was real. Buffy lay wrapped up in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his face. She was fast asleep, the events of the day soon having caught up with her. He had suggested – hoping she would refuse – that she should return home, that Dawn would be worried, that she’d best get off. But she hadn’t. She had just smiled that soft smile – the one he still struggled to believe was aimed at him – and had kissed him again. He could still feel every brush of her lips against his – like water to a man dying of thirst. And her small hands: holding him close, twisting in his clothes, winding through his hair. He had wanted her, more than he had ever wanted her before, but he had held himself back, scared she would change her mind, that she would remember who she was with. “Spike,” she had whispered, the sound thrilling him to the core, “I want to stay here tonight.” “Are you sure?” he had struggled out, unsure how much more of this sweet torture he could endure. She had nodded, her lips brushing over his neck and making every hair stand on end. He had tried his best to shift her position on his lap to one slightly less torturous, but she didn’t seem to want to let him. Her hands twisted in his hair once more as she kissed him and he let out a moan. He wrapped both hands around her arms and pulled her back, trying to get some distance between them. “Buffy, love,” he breathed heavily. “Yes?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips, a devilish glint in her eyes. He smiled too, delighted to see her so happy – but held her at a distance when she moved to lean in once more. “We should stop, love, before I do something I might regret.” She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile, and he let out a groan. “You’ll be the death of me.” “You’re already dead.” “Fair point,” he had conceded, holding the back of her neck and drawing her to him once more. Somehow they had ended up on his bed and it was only as her hands slipped under his shirt, heading south, that he finally forced himself away, drawing a moan from both of them. He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to force his body to comply with his desire to stop. “Spike?” There had been something so soft, almost tremulous, in her voice and it had drawn his eyes to her. She was absolutely breathtaking – her clothes dishevelled, her hair ruffled, her lips full and red from his kisses. But her eyes stopped him from pouncing once more: there was a look close to heartbreak on her face. “Buffy?” He reached out, running his fingers over her cheek. “Don’t you – don’t you want me?” He couldn’t resist the urge to laugh but as soon as he saw her expression fall he caught himself. “Buffy,” he breathed, twining his fingers in her long hair, “I’ve always wanted you. Since the moment you first handed my ass to me on a plate.” She smiled and shook her head. “But?” “But this all so new, so fast. Don’t want to rush anything, screw anything up.” “You won’t –“ “Buffy,” he murmured, drawing her close, “Don’t worry. There’s no rush.” He skirted his lips over her neck and felt her shudder with pleasure. “And when it does happen, I promise you sweetheart, you won’t regret waiting.” He heard her swallow and smiled to himself before pressing his lips to hers. She had fallen asleep in his arms not long after and there she had remained. And he had remained in the same position, unable to sleep - holding her close and marvelling at his luck. She shifted again in her sleep and let out a little moan, the tiniest little frown flickering across her expression. He brushed his fingers over her cheek and her eyes shot open. He knew in an instant that it was not Buffy’s eyes looking back at him: they were cold, dark and filled with hatred. She let out an almost inhuman growl and before he quite knew what was happening, he had been hurled from his own bed and he hit the nearby wall with a thud, slumping to the floor. He looked up, dazed, only to find Buffy staring him down with those cold eyes. She stalked over to him and dragged him to his feet, her small hands more powerful than they had been in months. “Vampire,” she ground out through her teeth, her eyes growing even colder as she pronounced the word. “Buffy,” he got out – but it was too late: she threw him against the wall once more and in an instant, she dashed from the room, scaling the ladder and disappearing. The loud bang of the main door signalled her exit only seconds later. Confused, he rose to his feet and climbed to the upper level. He threw the door open and stepped back just as the sunlight flooded in. She was gone. The sunlight stopped him from following her so he headed for the only place he could think to go: Revello Drive. All through his subterranean journey he tried to convince himself that it hadn’t been Buffy looking at him with those cruel eyes. Something had happened to her, and he had a horrible feeling he knew just what. That was not Buffy. Not even the Buffy who had hated him had ever looked at him like that. This was something… strange. He climbed up the ladder to the sewer exit only metres from the Summers’ back door. Bracing himself, he counted to three and then jumped out, running to the door as fast as he could and dashing inside. The sun just caught his hands but in a matter of moments they had mostly healed. “Spike!” Dawn jumped up from the breakfast bar, almost spilling her breakfast. “Is Buffy here?” he asked her, grabbing her by the arms. “No,” she got out with a confused look, “I thought… I thought she was with you.” He was about to answer her when he spotted Willow just at the door of the kitchen. He saw the dark ring around her eyes straight away and let out a growl. “What did you do?” he bit out.

Chapter #18 - Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “What did you do?” he repeated, staring the witch down. For the first time in a long time he felt the need to maim and kill taking over him and it was all he could do to keep himself still, keep himself from throttling the meddling witch in front of him, chip be damned. “I – I didn’t –“ Angrier still, he grabbed her by the arm, ignoring the tiny twinge it sent through his skull. “What did you do to her?” “Spike, what’s going on?” Dawn asked fearfully. He took one look at Dawn and felt some of his rage seep from him. He released Willow with a look of disgust, forcing her away from him as best he could without setting of the chip. “She did a spell. And now Buffy’s…” He trailed off, remembering with a wince the hatred in her eyes. “Spike?” Dawn asked, her voice raw with worry and drawing him back to the present. “Sorry, Bit. Big Sis is fine… she’s just not Buffy anymore.” Willow looked surprised by this too and he figured her spell – whatever it had been - hadn’t quite gone to plan. “What do you mean, she’s not Buffy?” Dawn asked. “Well, she’s strong, for one. And she hates me. And –“ It suddenly hit him. “She’s the Slayer,” he whispered, eyes fixing on Willow, “All Slayer. No Buffy.” “I just wanted to make things easier for her,” Willow whispered pitifully, “I- I thought-“ He didn’t want to hear her excuses. She wasn’t going to take responsibility for what she had done, so he needed to take this to someone who would. “Rupert!” His anger made him louder than necessary and his voice echoed around the empty shop. A moment later and the Watcher appeared, looking bewildered. “What’s going on?” “We’ve got a problem.” “What is it?” “The witch has been playing with magic again. Decided Buffy needed fixing, putting back to the way she was.” “Oh dear lord, what happened?” “Gave her her Slayer mojo back alright. Just took everything else with it.” “She’s pure Slayer now?” “Yeah.” “Are you sure?” “Got a bruised rib that reckons so.” “Oh dear lord.” “Not helpful, Rupert. Gonna need a way to get her back. And find her, for starters.” “I should have stopped Willow when I had the chance.” “Yeah, you should have, but right now, most important thing’s finding Buffy.” Giles got to his feet and went to the phone. “I’ll call the others, get as many of them out there looking for her as possible.” He went to dial and then paused. “She’s not dangerous, is she?” “Not to humans,” Spike murmured with a grimace. Giles nodded and quickly made a series of calls, calling the troops to arms. Being stuck inside and not being able to help find Buffy had made him even more irritated. He was counting down the hours until he could join the hunt. It was already afternoon and so far he had heard nothing. He was stationed at Buffy’s house with Dawn, waiting – and going mad. “Spike, you’re wigging me out, can you sit still for two minutes?” He stopped pacing and threw himself into a chair. “Willow really screwed up, huh?” He could only growl in answer and Dawn looked away sheepishly. “She told you though? Buffy?” “What’s that, Nibblet?” “That she likes you.” He smiled to himself, picturing Buffy’s face, beautiful and open, as she told him she wanted him, needed him. “Something like that.” “About time too,” Dawn said with her own little smile. Memories of the night before kept him delightfully distracted for some time, until the sound of voices and footsteps alerted him to the group just returning to the house. “Did you find her?” Dawn asked Xander as he and Anya came in. “Not yet. Giles and Willow and Tara are still looking.” “It’ll be dark in a few hours, then I’ll go,” Spike said, “I’ll find her.” “What makes you so sure you can find her when we’ve looked all over the place?!” Xander challenged him. “I can smell her,” he said simply, too angry already to spare much of it for the Whelp. As soon as the sun dropped below the horizon, he was out of the door and on the move. Giles and the two witches had returned shortly before and Giles had admitted that only Willow would be able to lift the spell, so she should accompany Spike. That had made him even angrier and, wisely, the witch had stayed silent. Tara had agreed to accompany them and he was pretty sure it was just to make sure he didn’t rip off her girlfriend’s head – although judging by the way Tara herself was regarding Willow, he wasn’t sure she was totally against it. They trailed just behind him now, eerily quiet as he made his way along Revello Drive. As he had told Xander, he would be able to track Buffy by her scent – it was something he had memorised a long time ago – but all he needed to do now was find some trace of it. She hadn’t been home since yesterday so the scent was weak, almost gone. He headed for one of the larger cemeteries but could detect nothing there so moved on to the next, the witches still trailing behind him. He was in the third cemetery, starting to give up hope, when he felt it – a tiny prickle down his spine – and seconds later, he was being tackled to the ground. Buffy had found him, instead of the other way round. He managed to roll to his feet, facing her once more. It was amazing how little she looked like his Buffy now – in only a few hours, she had already degenerated into a cold, killing machine: hands bared, dirty with blood and dirt, those dark expressionless eyes sizing him up. He really, really didn’t want to fight her but he didn’t have much choice as she charged him again; he spun, using her own weight against her to send her to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the witches getting ready and knew he only needed to keep Buffy distracted for a little while longer. Funny thing about magic, that was: the witch could put the spell on Buffy from miles across town but to lift it she had to be within metres of her target. Didn’t make sense, and that was just another thing he hated about magic. Distracted by these thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that Buffy was on her feet once more until she lashed out at him, scratching him across the face. He felt his skin start to sting as her nails cut the surface and quickly dodged as she moved to repeat the action. She was wild and more unpredictable like this than she had ever been in her right mind. She lashed out at him again but he caught her arms, struggling to subdue her. She rammed her head into his nose and he stumbled back. Blood tickled his lip, but he did not take his eyes of Buffy – especially when she raised a crude stake in her hand, something like a smile crossing her face. “Red, hurry the bloody hell up!” Buffy charged him and he fell to the ground, trying to hold her away from him as she pinned him. She held the stake with two hands, inches from his chest, both of them trembling as he tried to keep her from lowering her hands. “Red!” “One second!” “Vampire,” Buffy snarled, the pressure against his hands increasing as she sought to drive the stake downwards. “Buffy, love,” he said, trying to stop her, hoping she might recognise his voice, “Come on, love.” She scowled and the pressure against his hands increased even more. It happened in the blink of an eye – literally. One minute she was this cold thing, staring down at him with hatred and a blink later, she was frowning in confusion, taking in the scene around her. “Spike?” she got out shakily. Her hands trembled as she released the stake, her eyes going wide. “Oh God, Spike,” she breathed, reaching out to touch the scratch on his face. “Buffy! Is it you?” Willow burst into their bubble and Buffy looked up in shock. “What – I-I don’t understand.” “Buffy, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-“ Glaring at the witch to shut her up, he sat up, guiding a shaking Buffy from his lap to his side, one hand clutching hers tightly. “It’s alright, love. All better now, yeah.” “I-I hurt you,” she whispered, tracing the scratches on his face. “S’nothing. It’ll be gone by morning.” A moment passed, her fingers tracing his skin, and then she seemed to remember their audience. She looked up at her friend and something in Willow’s guilty look must have sparked a reaction. “What happened to me?” With every word, her voice grew stronger and she rose to her feet. “What did you do to me?” “Buffy, I just – I wanted to fix it for you. You looked so lost and I thought –“ “You thought you could magic it all better?!” “I wanted to fix it.” “You wanted to fix me, you mean?! Well, I’m not broken!” “Buffy –“ With a disgusted sigh, Buffy interrupted her. “I can’t even look at you right now.” She turned, her eyes lifting to his. “Will you take me home?” “’Course.” “You can find somewhere else to stay,” Buffy said coldly, turning her gaze briefly on Willow, “You’re not welcome in my house.” “Buffy, I-“ Tara stopped her girlfriend with a firm hand on her arm and Willow looked to her in surprise. “Let’s go,” Tara said, her voice more confident than Spike thought he had ever heard it. Willow looked like she wanted to protest but as soon as she glanced at Buffy, she seemed to change her mind. She let Tara lead her away – sensible girl – and as soon as they were out of sight, Buffy turned to him. “Take me home?” He nodded, falling into step beside her. He started when he felt her hand slide into his and glanced at her but she just wrapped her fingers around his tightly and they carried on back to her house.

Chapter #19 - Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They had passed the journey in silence so far and Buffy was grateful for the chance to try to process her jumbled thoughts and feelings. She felt overwhelmed with the anger she felt towards Willow and a few times she had to make a conscious effort to loosen her grip on Spike’s hand, which she kept unconsciously clenching even tighter when her emotions started to get the better of her. He said nothing each time, but smoothed his thumb over her knuckles, his presence and his touch providing a calming influence. They were only a few streets away from her house when a group of scaly demons blocked their path. “Alright mates, mind if we get through,” Spike said calmly and she gave him a confused look. “Tayongs,” he explained, “Mostly harmless.” “Slayer!” The sound of her name resonated through the group in a growl, sending a shudder through her. “They don’t appear to be too keen on you though,” Spike commented with a frown. “Erm, I think I can explain that one. I may have, err, killed one of their friends…earlier today.” Spike gave her a look she couldn’t quite define and she bit her lip. “I didn’t really have much control, you know, with the spell and the mad Slayer rage and all.” “Slayer!!” “I know, love,” Spike said, squeezing her hand, “Just makes things a tad more difficult. They are mostly harmless… but not necessarily when one of their kind gets offed.” She frowned, taking in the five, all rather large, demons. This could get messy. “Look, everybody,” she spoke up, trying to sound confident, “I made a mistake and I-“ “Slayer!” Before she could finish her sentence, the group descended on them en masse and she gave an almost girlish squeak. “Buffy, stay back!” Spike shouted, jumping forward in an attempt to block their path to her. Spike managed to stop several of them, but couldn’t stop two of them that slipped past, dark eyes intent on her. “Look, I didn’t mean to kill your friend,” she got out, taking careful steps backward, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“ She ducked as one of the demons lashed out at her and her fist flew out, landing a sucker punch to its midriff. It cried out and she stood back, looking at her hand in surprise. Her reverie was short-lived, as the second demon jumped on her back, arms locking around her neck. She grabbed its hands, ripping them from her, and with a quick spin, threw the demon to the ground. Her eyes widened in surprise. “What the hell?!” “Buffy, watch out!” She turned just as the first demon came at her again and she quickly spun into a kick that sent it flying. And just like that, she was in motion. A punch-kick-combo took out the demon that had got to its feet, leaving it unconscious on the ground, and she turned just as the other one was rushing her once more. She used its momentum against it and sent it crashing into a nearby wall. Obviously unused to fighting, it scrambled to its feet and took off, away from her. She frowned, turning back to where Spike was still grappling with the remaining three demons. She jumped into the fray, fists and feet incapacitating a third demon. Seeing two of their friends down, the remaining two took flight and she watched them go blindly, her mind racing with confusion. She turned to Spike only to find him watching her carefully, almost warily. “Buffy?” “I’m still me,” she said, reassuring him, “It’s not the spell. I don’t think. I-“ He took a step closer, his hands coming to rest on her arms, and she felt a tingle crawl up the nape of her neck. It was a very familiar tingle that screamed Vampire! “I-“ She didn’t know what to say, bewildered by what this could mean. “Buffy?” She raised her eyes to Spike’s, searching for reassurance, for…something. “I… I feel like me again. Like-” “A Slayer.” She nodded. Spike regarded her for a long moment, his hands brushing over her shoulders. “Can feel the power in you, pulsing away. Not like under the spell, not that strong. But powerful.” She could feel it too: the power, the confidence, coursing through her body. “What’s happening to me?” she asked breathlessly. “I don’t know. We should call the Watcher, find out–“ She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Right now, I don’t really want to see anyone.” He frowned, pulling away from her, and she reached out for him, tugging him back to her, her hand twisting in his shirt. “Not you, you idiot,” she scolded him, “I want to see you.” He softened, his hands rising to skim over her arms. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” she nodded, reaching up to trace her finger over his face – over the scratch she had left. “I hurt you.” “I’ve had worse,” he murmured with a smile. She lowered her hand to his chest, touching the point where she had tried to force the stake through his heart. “I could have killed you,” she said with a frown. “Buffy,” Spike said softly, drawing her eyes to his, “It wasn’t you.” “It was the Slayer in me. The Slayer that might just be back in me.” “Buffy, if you’re worried, we should-“ She shook her head, cutting him off. She gave a little sigh and then raised her head to him, smiling softly. “It’s not important.” “No?” “No. I could be the Slayer again. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter, right?” “Not to me it doesn’t,” Spike answered, drawing her into his arms. “Exactly. And I know that, whatever happens, you’ve got my back,” she continued, running her hands up his chest and twining her arms around his neck. “Always.” “Then who cares?” she whispered, leaning up and pressing her lips to his. He groaned and tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. And in the end, this was all that mattered –feeling warm, feeling safe and, above all, feeling loved. THE END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: Well, I finally made it. Thanks to you all for your patience and hope you enjoyed this. Sorry it took me so long to pull it all together. The good news is, I'm already working on a new story. Coming soon... :-)