The Ghost in You by BuffyMeetsSpike

Chapter #1 - Chapter 1

The Ghost in You Disclaimer: The characters, and the recognizable scenes belong to Joss Whedon. The title is from a Psychedelic Furs song. This story goes AU in the middle of Bargaining. Reviewers are wonderful people!   ****************   Prologue “Osiris! Here lies the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!”   The spell grew to its climax. Xander, Anya, and Tara watched, terrified, as Willow bled and a snake spewed forth from her mouth. Then they heard the roar of the motorcycles. Heads turning, they saw the approach of horrible looking creatures on bikes – demons, out for blood and mayhem.   Xander scooped up Willow and ran, with Tara and Anya close behind. The bikers careened over the shattered urn of Osiris, laughing and shouting. None of the creatures in the cemetery that night saw the figure of a blonde woman in a black dress. “Willow? Xander? What’s happening?” cried the woman. But no one answered her. No one took any notice at all.   *******************   Buffy had no idea what was going on. She was back, on earth, it seemed. How did I get here? I was so happy. I was done with all this. Did I do something wrong? Is someone in trouble? Where am I anyway? She looked around and realized she was in a cemetery. She noticed with a little surprise that the grave she was standing on was her own. She saved the world… a lot. Well, ok, I guess they got that right. But that doesn’t explain why my friends were here in the middle of the night, or why I’m here for that matter.  Feeling lost, she walked out of the cemetery and started down the streets toward Revello Drive.   She was bewildered by the utter chaos in the town. It seemed familiar, but it looked like a war had broken out. Broken glass from shop windows littered the main streets. Fires burned here and there around crashed cars. Is this Sunnydale? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere and land in hell? A roar behind her made her jump and spin around. A headlight loomed up as the roar of a motorcycle echoed through the street. There was no time to react. She covered her face with her arms and braced for the impact.   The impact never came. The motorcycle and its demon driver passed right through her, never pausing as he raced up the street. What the fuck was that?? Buffy wondered. She walked over to a streetlight and tried to touch the pole. Her hand passed right through. A ghost? I’m a ghost?   Buffy fought against a rising panic. How? None of this made any sense. Her brain kept repeating, I was in heaven. Now I’m a ghost in Sunnydale. Why? She kept walking past more scenes of destruction. More demon bikers roared past, converging on some location. She followed them, not knowing what else to do, and wondering what they could be up to.   In a large open area, she saw them gathered around a blonde female. They had tied chains to her arms and legs. All the demons whooped and cheered. Then Buffy realized that the figure was her. Her hair and eyes, her clothes. She realized with horror that it was the Buffybot. She yelled, “Don’t!” but the demons didn’t hear her. Revving their engines, they accelerated, pulling the bot limb from limb. They danced around, tossing the bot’s arms and legs from one to the other, kicking its torso. Then they saddled up and rode off to create more mayhem, laughing and shouting.   Buffy was stunned. She drifted over to the remains of her robot double. She looks like I feel, she thought. She had always hated the stupid toy that Spike had made, but to see oneself torn apart by demons was unsettling, to say the least. She sat down on the ground next to the bot, in a state of shock, wondering what to do next.   She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there when another motorcycle rode up. She jumped up, and was amazed to find that the rider was Spike. Even more curious was his passenger, who pulled off a battered football helmet to reveal herself as Dawn. “Dawn?” Buffy cried. “What are you doing here? It’s me!” But neither Dawn nor Spike made any sign of having heard her. They walked over to the bot. Dawn knelt down, looking on the verge of tears as she stroked the bot’s hair.   “Just a machine, Nibblet,” Spike said gently.   “I know,” Dawn replied. But it was the closest thing I had to Buffy, she thought, biting her lip.   Buffy for her part was completely perplexed. Spike was still here, and apparently was taking care of Dawn. Why? I know he promised to look after her, but with me gone, why? While Buffy was still trying to work this out, the roar of motorcycles returned. Spike jumped up. “Run!” he cried to Dawn. Dawn dashed off to find a place to hide as Spike picked up a discarded chain in one hand. The demons came roaring back, riding around Spike in a circle.   “What do you want, vampire?” the leader snarled derisively. “This is our town now.”   “I was here first,” Spike replied. He vamped out and launched himself at the nearest biker, knocking him off his bike. Suddenly it was a melee, with Spike lashing out with the chain and his fists. It was an uneven battle, and Spike quickly began getting the worst of it. But he didn’t care. These fuckers were not going to hurt Dawn on his watch. Buffy’s slayer instincts screamed at her to join in the fight, but she could do nothing. She tried kicking and punching the nearest demon, but her insubstantial fists went right through without even slowing it down.   As Spike fought on, and Buffy watched, Tara and Anya came running out of an alley. They had been making their way home when Anya had insisted on checking on the Magic Box to see if it had been looted. “Tara! Anya!” Buffy called, running up to them. They ducked back behind the corner of a store, mindful of the battle raging, but not noticing the ghostly form in front of them.   Tara gasped when she saw Spike. “He’s outnumbered!” Tara whispered to Anya. “We should give him a hand.”   “No way,” said Anya. “I’m not going up against that bunch.”   Tara started muttering a spell under her breath, “Impediare.” Several of the demons suddenly tripped over their own feet and went down. Spike took advantage of the situation immediately, snapping one of their necks and stomping another one in the face. Tara muttered another spell and a ball of energy burst between two demons, knocking them to the ground. Spike had gotten a hold of a piece of pipe that one of the demons had dropped. He was using it to crack skulls and regain the upper hand. Tara sent out another spell to trip up more demons. Anya, hiding behind Tara, heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw Dawn hiding behind a dumpster. “Dawn? Are you ok?”   “Yes,” whispered Dawn. “But shouldn’t we be getting out of here now?” Buffy tried again jumping up and down and waving at her sister, but to no avail. “Dawn! Why don’t you see me?” yelled Buffy in desperation.   Tara saw that Spike was definitely in control of the situation at this point. After sending out one more ball of energy to take out a few more demons for good measure, she turned, and motioned for Anya and Dawn to follow her. They crept carefully out of the alley and slipped down the street. The demons were too distracted by the vampire they were fighting to notice them. After rounding a corner, the girls saw that the coast was clear and took to their heels, heading back to Revello Drive. Buffy followed, noting that her Slayer speed seemed to be intact, even if her body was elsewhere.   Spike continued to fight, whirling, kicking, and wielding his makeshift weapons. His demon was in full control as he growled and snarled, taking out all his aggressions on the bikers. Finally the last few decided they had had enough of the fight, and hopped on their bikes. With Spike yelling, “Fucking cowards!” behind them, they sped off.   Spike dropped his weapons and fell to his knees, exhausted. His gameface melted away as he gasped. Fucking biker scum. He winced as he touched a bleeding head wound that he discovered. Then he suddenly remembered – Dawn. Where was Dawn? He got up, slowly, staggering a bit. “Dawn?” he yelled, looking around. “Dawn!” Panicking, he whirled, trying to see if she was around. Spike grabbed his motorcycle, kicked it into life, and sped off toward the house.   ****************   The girls arrived to find that the house had been left alone, except for the mailbox, which was smashed. They went inside, grateful for the shelter of a familiar space. Dawn ran upstairs to clean up a bit. Tara and Anya paced, worried about their respective partners.   Buffy followed Dawn. She’s my sister! If anyone should be aware of my presence, it should be her. But although Buffy tried her hardest, the teen went about changing her clothes and fixing her hair with no awareness of Buffy’s existence. Buffy’s heart broke when Dawn went into Buffy’s old room and curled up with Mr. Gordo, weeping quietly. Oh, Dawnie. Buffy tried to stroke Dawn’s hair to comfort her, but found that as before, her hand passed right through.   The door slammed open then and Spike’s voice echoed through the house. “Dawn! Is she here? We got separated!”   “I’m here, Spike,” Dawn answered before Tara and Anya could respond. She wiped her eyes and started down the stairs. Buffy followed her, not knowing what else to do.   Spike was relieved and furious. “Thank God,” he said. “You scared me half to death. Well, more to death. I could kill you…” His tirade trailed off and his eyes got wider and wider.   There on the stairs, behind Dawn, was Buffy. Her blonde hair was loose and flowing down her shoulders, her green eyes fixed worriedly on her sister. She was dressed as they had buried her, black dress and black shoes. “Buffy…?” Spike breathed.   Dawn stopped, and looked at Spike quizzically. “Spike? Um, are you ok?”   “Buffy,” he repeated. “It’s her. Behind you.” Almost forgot how beautiful she was.   Finally! thought Buffy. “Spike? Can you hear me?” she called. But the vampire showed no sign of having heard her voice. He just kept staring at her in a mix of wonder and confusion.   Dawn looked around, but saw and heard nothing. “Spike, what’s wrong?”   Tara and Anya joined them in the foyer, looking back and forth between Dawn and the shocked vampire. “Spike, did you get cracked on the head too hard or something?” Anya inquired.   “You don’t see her?” Spike asked. He shook his head to clear it, but she was still there, right behind Dawn. “Buffy. She’s on the stairs.” His heart ached at the sight.   The others looked at each other, shrugging. “There’s nothing there, Spike,” said Tara gently. Clearly something was wrong with the vampire. Just then the door burst open and Xander came in, supporting an exhausted Willow. As they helped Willow to the couch, Spike looked again at the stairs. They were empty – the figure he had seen was gone. I could swear I saw her. He shook his head again. Maybe he had taken one too many shots to the head. Dawn looked hard at the vampire. “Are you sure you’re ok?”   “Yeah, Nibblet,” he muttered. “Must be seeing things.” You’re losing it, William.   Willow had been explaining that she and Xander had seen the demon gang riding toward the city limits. “Whatever happened, they seem to be scared off for now.”   “I think it was a combination of Spike pounding on them and Tara hexing them a few times,” Dawn put in. She described Spike and Tara’s fight against the main contingent of the demons. Buffy willed Willow and Xander to see her, to hear her shouting, but they were also unaware of her presence.   “Did anyone see the bot?” asked Willow.   “Destroyed,” said Spike shortly. “And good riddance.” Having to endure that plastic thing which looked so much like the woman he loved, but yet wasn’t her, had been the worst torture of the whole summer.   “But what are we going to do now?” asked Anya. “The demons are going to know there is no slayer in Sunnydale.”   “I doubt that lot will say much,” Spike said. “They’re not going to want to admit that they got their asses handed to them by a vampire. Demon pride and all. I expect things will die down to the usual hellmouth stuff in a day or so.”   “But what about patrolling?” asked Dawn. And parent-teacher conferences? And being able to sleep at night? Dawn knew the bot wasn’t Buffy. But its presence had been comforting nonetheless. Dawn fought back fresh tears of loss.   “I guess we’ll have to just take care of it ourselves.” Xander shrugged. “Can you join us tomorrow night?” Xander asked the vampire, who was lost in thought. ”Earth to Deadboy?”   Spike shook himself. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he answered. “I think I’ll head back to the crypt before the sun rises. You alright, Dawn?” He looked with concern at the brown haired girl.   “I’ll be fine. Thanks for keeping me safe,” she said. In truth, she wanted Spike to stay. But she knew that the witches really weren’t comfortable with him there, and she wasn’t in the mood for any more tension.   “Any time, Bit,” Spike replied. Then he turned and left.   Spike made his way back to his crypt, chain smoking the whole way. What was that? An illusion? Hallucination? DT’s? I didn’t think vamps got those. He was slightly shaken by what he saw. Must be losing it, he decided finally. If I start seeing pixies like Drusilla, I’m out of here.   He reached his crypt and made his way down to the lower level. Stubbing out his cigarette in his overflowing ash tray he reached for a bottle of whiskey. He looked around for a glass, then gave up and threw himself into a chair. He took several long pulls from the bottle, trying to calm his nerves. It really seemed like she was there. On the stairs. In that damn ugly dress they buried her in. He took another long swallow, and another, draining the bottle. He tossed it to the side to join a growing pile of similar bottles. Place is getting unfit to live in, he realized. Fuck it. He got up, stripped, and got into bed. He lay on his back staring at his ceiling for a while. One hundred forty-eight days, Slayer. Still miss you. He sighed and rolled over, finally falling asleep.   **********   Buffy wandered around her house for a while, trying to get someone’s attention. She yelled and jumped around, but no one could see or hear her. She concentrated as hard as she could, but to no avail. Xander and Anya went home after a while. Dawn went up to bed. Tara and Willow seemed to be living here now, which was odd. She would have thought that Giles would have assumed guardianship of Dawn, given that he was the designated responsible adult of the group. Where is Giles anyway? she wondered idly. The witches had taken over her mother’s room. She drifted in, trying to figure out how to contact them. They were quiet as they got ready for bed, taking no notice of the perturbed ghost. After they turned out their light, Willow murmured, “Tara?”   “Yeah?”   “I really thought it would work,” Willow sobbed. Tara put her arms around Willow and held her, soothing her as best she could.   “I know, baby,” Tara crooned. “I hoped it would work too.” They softly wept together.   What? thought Buffy, confused. What would work? What the hell is going on?   Finally, Buffy decided that this was futile. No one saw or heard her. She wandered through the front door and down the street, drifting aimlessly through the sleeping town. What do I do? I can’t just wander alone forever, can I? She noticed that the Sunnydale fire department had finally gotten the worst of the blazes under control, and the police were out in force as well. Where were you guys a few hours ago? she wondered. She tried deliberately walking through a few people. No one so much as flinched or looked around. She grew more and more depressed as the minutes passed.   After a while she found herself at the gates of a cemetery. Restfield. Spike’s crypt was here. He’s the only one who even looked like he might have noticed me, she thought. Might as well try him again. She glided through the door of his crypt and down to the lower level. A couple of candles still burned on his bedside table. She quickly learned two things about Spike. One was that he slept naked. The other was that he was absolutely beautiful when he slept. He lay on his back, his profile glowing in the candlelight. His skin shone like ivory in the faint light. His usually smirking mouth was peaceful in repose. The sheets had pooled around his hips, leaving his entire chest and abs exposed to her view. Wow. Never knew he looked that good. She stood watching him, momentarily distracted from her woes by the sight. She scratched her head, wondering if there was any way she could get his attention.   Spike was dreaming. Once more he was at the tower, watching Buffy fight Glory. He raced up the tower, weapons in hand. This time he would get there in time, kill Doc before he could cut Dawn. This time it would work. As he raced he heard Buffy call out, “Spike! Spike, I need your help! Wake up!”   Spike sat up, gasping. The nightmare seemed more real this time. Then he looked down at the end of his bed and scrambled backward in shock, banging his head against the headboard. Buffy was standing at the foot of his bed. She was dressed in that same black dress, just as she had appeared at her house. She was looking at him and saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything. Her lips looked like they were saying “Help me!” but he heard nothing. “Buffy?” he whispered. He got up, clutching the sheet to his waist, and slowly walked toward the figure in black. She seemed to brighten, smile a bit as he approached. But as he went to touch her she disappeared once more.   Spike looked all around the room in confusion. Am I going mad? It was her. I swear it was her. She was right here. He was shaken. What was going on? Did he finally just blur some line between his nightly dreams and reality? He sat back down on the bed and reached for his cigarettes, lighting one with trembling hands. I’m not mad. I’m not. She was here…   Buffy nearly wept in disappointment. He had been so close. He had clearly seen her – he was reaching for her and everything. Why couldn’t he hear her? Why did she keep disappearing? She didn’t feel any different, but it was clear that he couldn’t see her all the time. She stamped her incorporeal foot in utter annoyance.   Spike had finished his cigarette and lay back down, clearly disturbed by his vision. He lay once more with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling for a long time before rolling over and closing his eyes. Buffy drifted over and experimentally tried lying down next to him. Although she couldn’t feel anything, she at least didn’t sink through the bed. She reached out to touch him, but her hand slipped through him. She gave up and closed her eyes for a while. She might not need sleep, per se, but she needed to not deal for a while. Might as well haunt Spike, I guess. Maybe he’ll see me when he gets up. It was the only thing she could hold on to at the moment, but it was better than nothing.   TBC

Chapter #2 - Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Whedon owns all. I just play with his toys Keep the reviews coming! I really, really appreciate it!   ***************************   Drink and interrupted sleep conspired to keep Spike in bed until after sunset. He finally sighed, sat up, and rubbed his face. The unseen ghost next to him sat up too, taking in the sight of his smooth white back. He got up and wandered over to a makeshift bathroom he had carved out with stolen supplies and an unauthorized pipe or two. No toilet, but he enjoyed having a sink and shower. He stood under the cold water for a while, trying to wake up and focus. Maybe I should lay off the booze for a while. He truly did not know what to make of these visions or sightings or whatever you called them.   After a while he roused himself, turned off the water and toweled off. He returned to his bedroom and rummaged around for clothes. His invisible guest blushed as much as a ghost could at his nakedness. When did I become Buffy the Voyeur? she asked herself. Her embarrassment made her turn her back while he dressed. Focus! We need to get his attention, not ogle him when he’s unaware!   Spike threw his duster on and headed out, trailed by Buffy. He lit a cigarette outside the door of his crypt before stalking off toward the Magic Box. Does he have an infinite supply of those things? Buffy wondered. Spike, on his part, was lost in thought. The more he tried to dismiss his sightings as his imagination, the more they worried at him. Is she trying to tell me something? Warning me? What?   Spike was no closer to figuring things out as he got to the Magic Box. They had made a habit of convening there before the nightly patrol. Although what they were going to do now that the Bot was gone, he had no idea. He could probably do the patrols by himself if the Scoobies would just get out of his way. But there was always that spirit of Honoring Buffy’s Memory that kept them coming back for more self-flagellation. One of these days one of them is going to honor her by joining her if they’re not careful.   He entered the store to find Xander, Anya, and Willow present. “Tara stayed home with Dawn,” Willow explained. “Dawn’s still a bit shaken up by the whole demon biker thing.”   “So what’s the plan?” Spike asked impatiently. He didn’t mind the Scoobies that much most days, although if Xander had a painful accident he wouldn’t shed too many tears. But tonight he was just not in the mood for any of the lot.   “We thought maybe if the two of us started at one end of town, and the other two started at the other end, we could meet in the middle?” said Willow.   “How about the three of you stay together, and I’ll take the other end m’self,” Spike returned. “I think there is safety in numbers for you folks. If I finish my end, I’ll catch up with you, yeah?”   Willow was quietly relieved. To be free of Xander and Spike’s bickering for a night was always welcome. “Fine, let’s go with that.” They divided up the cemeteries and set off.   Spike was glad to find a small nest of young and inexperienced vamps in the first cemetery. It allowed him to get out some of his frustrations. The other vamps hardly knew what happened. He sauntered in like one of the gang, and hit them when they least suspected it. Lesson the first, my little fledges. Master vampires are an untrustworthy lot.   He continued on through a few more cemeteries, dusting fledges, scanning for errant demons. Finally, he reached the place they had agreed to meet. Buffy’s cemetery. He was there earlier than the others, which he expected, being more efficient at the whole killing thing. He moved through the gravestones until he reached hers. He reached out tenderly and placed his hand on the stone. “Hello, love,” he said quietly. After 148 days, his eyes still watered every single time. However this time, he was not alone.   Buffy had followed Spike during the whole patrol, confused by what she saw. He was still patrolling on her behalf. Why? Why was he here at all? But as she saw him quietly weeping at her graveside she realized, He still loves me. How can that be? Not supposed to be possible without a soul, right? She was puzzled by this man –well, vampire – and why he hadn’t moved on. Everyone else had always left, even when she was alive. Why stay when she was dead, or whatever she was at present?   Spike sat down and leaned against the headstone. He pulled out a flask and took a drink, idly running his hands through the grass on her grave. Buffy was determined to get his attention. She stood directly in front of him and concentrated with all her will. “SPIKE!” she yelled.   Did someone call me? Spike wondered. He looked to the left and right, and saw nothing. Then he looked directly in front of him and his eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet and reeled against the headstone behind him. Buffy was standing in front of him. It had been her voice he heard.   “No,” he mumbled. “You’re not here.” He shook his head with wide eyes.   “Spike! It’s me. Please. You’re the only one who sees me. Please!” Buffy cried. She was desperate for someone to notice her, to help her figure out what the hell was going on. Tears ran down her pale cheeks.   “Buffy? How…?” he stammered. His jaw flapped open, and he couldn’t control it for a while. Then he reached for her. He gasped as his hand passed through her arm. “You’re… a ghost?”   “Can you hear me?” Buffy asked, afraid to hear the answer.   “Yes,” breathed Spike. He was afraid to move, lest she disappear again.   “Oh thank God,” she said. “I’ve been trying for 2 days now to get someone to hear me. You’ve got to help me.”   “Help you?” Spike was truly confused, and still not entirely sure he was not dreaming. “How can I help you?”   Spike was so preoccupied that he failed to notice Xander, Anya, and Willow approaching through the trees. Willow was about to call out to him when Xander put his hand on her arm. “Who is Spike talking to?” he whispered?   Buffy was also unaware of the intrusion. “I was… I think I was in heaven,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “And then there was this tugging and pulling feeling, and then I was here. Only no one could see me. The Scoobies were here, at my grave, but they were running from some demons on motorcycles or something. I don’t know what happened.”   “Heaven?” Spike asked. “You got pulled out of heaven?” The implications of that weighed heavily on him.   Buffy nodded, “And now, I seem to be a ghost or something. You seem to be the only one who sees me at all, and even then I keep disappearing.”   “You were at the house, I saw you,” he said. I knew I wasn’t completely mad.   “I thought Dawn or Tara would be able to see me,” she explained. “Spike, why is this happening? Why am I here?”   Spike fought to keep his emotions under control as he answered, “I… I don’t know what to say. I just can’t believe you’re…”   “Spike, who are you talking to?” Spike whirled around at the sound of Anya’s voice. She and Willow and Xander had decided that they needed to make their presence known.   “Don’t you see her?” Spike asked, indicating Buffy’s shade. “Buffy! She’s right here. She’s a ghost, or spirit or something. Buffy, say something!”   Buffy called out, “Willow! Xander! I’m right here!” But the three Scoobies just looked at Spike like he had lost it. “Dammit, she’s right there! I can see her, hear her voice. It’s her! She’s asking for help. She doesn’t know why she is here.”   Willow spoke calmly to the agitated vampire. “Spike, we know you come here to feel closer to her, but we don’t see anything. Are you sure you haven’t been drinking or something?”   “I’m not drunk!” he roared in frustration. “And I’m not mad either. She is right there!”   “Spike, time to get over the obsession ok?” said Xander. “She’s… gone. Not coming back.” His voice broke a bit on the last few words. Then he added, “And if she did come back as a ghost, don’t you think she would appear to Dawn? Or one of her friends? Why would she come to you?”   Spike threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t bloody know, do I?” He tried to get his voice under some degree of control. “All I know is that she’s here, and she’s asking me for help!”   “Spike,” said Willow. “We’re all tired. You’d better get some sleep, or sober up, or whatever you need to do to calm down. We’re going home.” With that they turned to go.   “But… ” sputtered the vampire. The three Scoobies continued on, although occasionally one of them looked back over their shoulders to make sure that Spike wasn’t freaking out or following them. Spike kicked a neighboring tombstone in frustration. “Wankers never do listen to a word I say.”   “You still see me?” Buffy asked timidly. She dreaded being alone again. Bad enough to be out of heaven and ghostly, but the horror of being alone was more than she wanted to deal with.   “Yes, love,” Spike said quietly. He looked at her as if he would never be done with the sight. It’s her. Her voice. Never thought I’d hear it again.   “Spike, what do I do?” Buffy wrung her hands in frustration.   Spike jammed his hands in his coat pockets and stared at the ground for a moment. “Can we go back to my place?” Spike inquired. “I think we could do with a bit more privacy if I’m going to be conversing with the air. Maybe we can come up with something if we put our heads together.”   Buffy nodded. Spike turned to walk back to his crypt, hands in his pockets, while Buffy walked next to him. The only difference was that Spike walked around trees and tombstones, while Buffy simply drifted through them. Spike still doubted what he was seeing. Is it a trick? Some demon getting back at me? Is it something evil? Why would they throw the Slayer out of heaven? She of all people deserved her eternal reward. What the bloody hell is this all about?   Buffy said nothing as she followed Spike. He was clearly upset and fighting his emotions. He seems more upset than Willow and Xander. Why? Why is he still even around? I died. Why did he stay? She had as many questions about Spike as she had about her current state.   They reached Spike’s crypt after a while and went inside. Spike took off his coat, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass. “Sit anywhere you like,” he said as he landed heavily in his one semi-decent chair and poured himself a stiff drink. Buffy looked around at the crypt. It was a mess. She perched on the edge of a stone coffin and dangled her feet, mildly puzzling about why she didn’t sink through. Spike finished his drink and then rubbed his eyes. Don’t weep in front of her like a complete git.   “Spike?” asked Buffy. “Are you ok?”   “Yeah, I’m alright pet,” he said quietly. “Just… a bit overwhelmed. You were gone so long. Never thought I’d hear your voice again. Guess I was resigned to it.” He poured another glass of whiskey and took a big gulp.   “How long was I gone?”   “It was 148 days yesterday.” He looked at her searchingly. “How long was it for you?”   “Longer,” she answered.   He nodded, saying nothing. One probably doesn’t count the days in heaven, I’ll wager. He took another drink. “Can you tell me again what you remember?” he asked finally.   “I was… at peace. I was warm. I knew everyone I cared about was ok, and I knew I was loved. I was finished with everything.” Her eyes started welling up with tears again. “Then there was this sudden… force or something. And I was standing on what I guess is my grave. The others were there – Xander, Willow, Anya, Tara – but the second I got there they took off and those biker guys came riding through. The demons didn’t see me either. I walked down toward town. I saw…” she stopped, frowning at the memory.   “What?” Spike wondered. He turned a curious glance toward her.   “I saw them pull the bot apart,” she finished quietly. “It was a bit unnerving.”   “Can’t say I’ll miss it much,” Spike muttered.   “Why did you guys repair it anyway?” Buffy asked.   Spike took another drink. “Willow thought it would be helpful in convincing the demon population of Sunnyhell that you were still around. Last week they used it to convince Dawn’s school that she had a responsible legal guardian. Not sure what they’re going to do now.”   “But the bot didn’t patrol alone all summer, did it?”   Spike shook his head, “No. It was the Scoobies, and me, and the Watcher. Willow’s getting pretty powerful with the magic, which helped.”   “Giles!” Buffy exclaimed. “Maybe he will be able to see me, or know what to do.”   “Watcher went back to England, pet,” Spike said gently.   Buffy’s face fell. “Why?” she asked, with a slight quiver in her voice. He left Dawn and the others to fend for themselves?   “Think he just couldn’t deal anymore,” Spike answered. “Gotta understand, hasn’t been easy for anyone. He loved you like a daughter.”   “But Dawn?” Buffy’s concern for her sister was palpable. “Who is going to look after her and keep her safe?”   “Well, the witches live there now, you know,” said Spike. “And I keep an eye on her as well. I remember my promise.” Spike fixed his blue eyes on hers. “If I had kept her safe in the first place you wouldn’t have had to jump.” He looked away then, taking another drink of whiskey.   They sat in silence for a while. “What do we do now?” Buffy asked finally.   “Dunno. Don’t have a whole lot of experience dealing with ghosts.”   “Well, I don’t have any experience being a ghost, so I guess we’re on the same ground there,” Buffy replied. “Maybe you could try to explain things to them again. When you’re sober that is.”   “I’m not drunk,” Spike started. Then he stood up, swayed a bit, and eyed the nearly empty bottle. “Well, ok, I’m a little drunk. But I’m not sure how to convince them I’m telling the truth. They tolerate me as extra muscle, not much else.”   “Just try, ok?” Buffy pleaded. “This… nonexistence is hell. I can’t touch anything. Can’t help Dawn, can’t defend anyone against anything. I just want to go back to where I was. Please.” Her eyes started watering again.   “I’ll do everything I can,” Spike said gravely. “I give you my word.”   TBC

Chapter #3 - Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All the vampires are Joss Whedon’s Thanks to the reviewers! I reward reviewers with updates as often as possible!   *************   Buffy trailed Spike as he headed for Willy’s bar. Spike was completely at a loss for what to do to help her, but he figured poking around the demon population could help, and the night was still relatively young. It was possible that some demon with a grudge had raised her somehow to get back at her or some other devilry was up. Besides, he was out of whiskey at home.   He didn’t say much to Buffy during the walk. She could see that he was fighting to keep in control. He smoked constantly, and the hand that wasn’t holding a cigarette was jammed deep into his pockets. He was somewhat wary of this whole situation. Is this real? he kept asking himself. Is it really her? Is this a trick? But another part of him was struggling not to lose it completely. That part of him wanted to fall at her feet and weep tears of joy just to hear her voice again. Keep it together, Spike. Just figure out what’s going on before you make a complete ass of yourself.   He pushed through the doors at Willy’s and surveyed the scene. A few random demons, a vampire or two, but overall it seemed a quiet night. Spike sat down as the proprietor came over. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here, given the company you keep,” Willy said quietly. “Don’t want no trouble tonight.”   “I’m not here for trouble,” said Spike. Buffy drifted over and perched on the seat next to Spike. “Just want some JD and some information.”   Willy poured the whiskey and replied, “Not sure I have any information you want.”   “I just want to know if anyone has said anything about the Slayer lately,” Spike said. He belted down the shot of JD and motioned for another. Buffy was a bit amazed at the amount of liquor the vampire had put away in the short time she had been back. Did he always drink like this? Or is this new? She was a bit humbled by the thought that her passing could have affected him so much.   “Those bikers were saying she wasn’t real or something,” Willy replied quietly. “But then they hightailed it out of here, so I guess they must have found out otherwise.”   “Nothing else? No talk of revenge or anything?”   Willy was about to reply when a vampire came stumbling up to the bar looking for a refill. The vamp looked three sheets to the wind already, in Spike’s opinion. He had no respect for a creature of the night who couldn’t hold his liquor. The vampire looked around while Willy got him his drink, and then stumbled off his barstool. “SLAYER!” he cried, pointing at Buffy with a shaking finger. “Get me the fuck out of here!” With that he scrambled to his feet and bolted.   The other demons at the bar looked up, but none of them seemed to see Buffy at all. Willy looked around, perplexed. “What the hell was his problem?”   “Fucking fledges are lightweights I guess,” Spike replied. He finished his drink, tossed down some cash, and said, “Let me know if you hear anything, ok?”   Willy nodded and went on to the next customer. Spike left the bar, holding the door for Buffy, when he realized that he must look rather foolish holding the door for someone no one else could see. “What was that all about?” Buffy asked when they were outside again.   “Dunno. But I think I solved one mystery,” Spike surmised. “I think I can see you because, well, I’m dead same as you.”   “I guess that makes sense,” Buffy agreed. “The live demons in there couldn’t see me either.” Spike headed slowly back toward his crypt with Buffy beside him. After a while she said, “So doesn’t look like there was some big demon plot to bring me back here. So what was it? And what do we do?”   “Well,” said Spike, taking a draw on yet another cigarette. “It’ll be morning in a couple hours. Not too much I can do tonight. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try doing some research at the Magic Box. And I’ll try to have another go at convincing your mates that I’m not actually insane. Does that sound alright, Slayer?” Spike looked to his right, then stopped and spun around. She was gone. “Buffy?” he called. “Buffy!”   “Spike? I’m right here!” Buffy called from a foot away. But she was apparently invisible again. Dammit! This would be a whole lot easier if I could just stay visible for ten minutes at a time!   Spike spun in place a couple of times. What the FUCK is happening to me? “Slayer? Can you hear me?” He heard no reply. “The fuck? Has everyone decided it’s the day to drive Spike round the bend?” He roared in frustration, looked around in vain one more time, then turned and stalked home.   Buffy watched him go as the loneliness wrapped around her like a fog. God, please get me out of here, she prayed. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. Please let me go back. Please. She sank down to the ground where she was and wept.   *******************************   When she could cry no longer, Buffy sat up and tried to figure out what to do next. She decided that what she wanted more than anything was familiar surroundings. So she picked herself up and headed home. The sky was beginning to lighten with the approaching sunrise. She wondered what the temperature was – she really couldn’t tell if it was warm or not. It must be fall, she figured, but it was strange not to feel the air. The lack of sensation was painful at times, after the remembered warmth of where she had been.   She walked through her front door and into the sleeping house. Buffy went into Dawn’s room and watched her sleep. She had brought Mr. Gordo to bed with her, and was curled up with him like a small child. Buffy zoned out for quite a while, to be shaken back to awareness by Dawn’s alarm clock. Dawn rolled over, smacked it, then lay there staring. Buffy winced at the circles under Dawn’s eyes and the unhappiness in her face. Poor Dawnie. She lost mom, lost me. She looks so alone. “Dawn? Can you hear me?” Buffy said aloud. But Dawn just continued staring at the alarm clock for long minutes until she finally sighed and got up to go shower.   Dawn sleepwalked through her morning ablutions, dressed indifferently, then wandered downstairs. Tara was in the kitchen, making breakfast. “Morning,” she said pleasantly. “I was going to make French toast for something different. Would you like some?”   Dawn shrugged, “Sure.” Buffy knew that tone. Adolescent sulking, coming full speed. She had done it herself enough as a teen. Buffy had never seen Dawn look so depressed. Dawn had always been the spoiled, protected little sister. Tara was clearly doing her best to act like a mother figure to the girl. But Dawn wasn’t necessarily having it. Dawn muttered “Thanks” when Tara put the plate in front of her and ate without much relish.   “Anything interesting going on at school?” Tara inquired, trying to make conversation.   “No,” Dawn answered shortly, and then clammed up again. She finished her breakfast, cleared her plate, and grabbed her backpack. “I’ll walk today.”   “You’re not going to wait for Xander to drive you?” Tara asked. Usually Dawn was pretty lazy about walking anywhere.   “No, I just want to walk today,” she answered. Then without another word Dawn turned and left. Tara shrugged and turned to wash the dishes.   Buffy followed her sister down the street. She was only mildly surprised when Dawn turned the opposite direction of school and headed off elsewhere. Girl, you had ‘skipping school’ written all over your face from the moment you got up, Buffy thought. Dawn wandered and eventually ended up in the cemetery where Buffy and their mom’s graves were. Dawn made her way over to their mother’s grave and sat down, leaning against a tree. She sat there for a while, idly running her hand over their mother’s name, carved in the stone. Then she started crying. “Mommy, I’m all alone!” she sobbed aloud as she put her head on her knees. Buffy’s heart ached for her. She tried again to touch her sister, to comfort her in some way, but her hand slid through.   After a while, Dawn’s tears slowed and she sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She pulled her lunch out of her bag and idly nibbled on a sandwich while she sat there. She only ate about half of it before losing interest and shoving everything back in her backpack. Then she got up and made her way over to Buffy’s grave.   “You had to leave me too,” Dawn whispered. “You should have just let me jump.” Dawn pulled a few dandelions that were growing on Buffy’s grave, then sat down and hugged her knees. Buffy sat down too and watched as her sister spent at least an hour just sitting, crying, and occasionally talking to Buffy, unaware that she had an audience. Finally she got up, touched Buffy’s headstone once more, then wandered off.   Dawn took a long, looping walk home, avoiding the more populated areas until it was time for school to let out. Then she turned her feet toward Revello Drive. She entered the house quietly, calling out, “Willow? Tara? Are you home?” Hearing no answer, Dawn went over to the answering machine. She pressed the playback button and heard the voice of the grouchy school secretary saying that Dawn had missed school today and that this was the fourth unexcused absence this term and…   Dawn hit the delete button to silence the annoying woman’s voice. What Willow and Tara don’t know won’t hurt them. She got some chips from the counter and went to turn on the television.   Buffy itched to be able to smack some sense into her sister. “Hello? Dawn?” Buffy said aloud. “This is your sister talking! I am so going to kick your ass for skipping school. You’re going to get caught and be in for a world of hurt, you moron!” Dawn continued munching chips and staring at the screen, oblivious. Gah, this is irritating. Where the hell are my friends? Why isn’t someone paying attention to this kid?   Willow and Tara finally returned from class around five o’clock, bearing Chinese take-out. “Where the hell have you two been?” Buffy asked. She had to admit she found it somewhat liberating to be able to say whatever she wanted. Just because I can’t be heard doesn’t mean that some things don’t need to be said.   “Did you do your homework?” asked Willow.   “Just finished,” Dawn replied. Liar, thought Buffy. The three of them spent the rest of the evening doing nothing much. Dawn vegetated in front of the TV, Tara did homework, and Willow studied some spell books. Around nine, Tara said, “Should we see what the others plan to do about patrol?”   Willow called the Magic Box, spoke briefly to Anya, and then hung up. “Spike will take care of it for tonight. We can have a night off.”   “That’s a relief,” said Tara. “This psych homework is a pain.” Willow joined Tara in bending over the psychology book while Dawn turned off the TV, mumbled “Good night” and went upstairs.   Buffy watched all this indignantly with her hands on her hips. “So, what, you decide that it’s ok to just patrol when you feel like it?” she said aloud. “Hello? The demons don’t just slay themselves around here! And Dawn could use some attention!” Then a thought struck her. “And who pays for all this? Shouldn’t at least one of you have a job or something?” Buffy found herself very irritated with the state of affairs. Throwing up her hands in frustration, she walked out of the house. Best go find Spike and see what he’s been up to. Maybe he can see me again, and I can tell him that Dawn needs someone.   ******************   Spike had stomped home after Buffy disappeared in the foulest mood imaginable. As he neared his crypt, he saw the ground move as one last fledgling rose from his grave. Spike vamped out and tackled the hapless vampire to the ground. Spike started beating him to a bloody pulp with no mercy and no warning. As he pounded the other vampire, all his grief and anger and frustration poured from his lips. “The fuck is wrong with the fucking universe!” he roared. He started punctuating every word with a punch. “She’s here… she’s gone… start to… remember… her voice…” Spike was in a blind rage, screaming incoherently, “I love her… can’t have her… can’t see her… can’t be free of her…” By this time the face of the other vampire was shattered and completely unrecognizable. With one last roar he ripped the other’s head clean off and watched him dissolve into dust.   Panting with emotion, Spike sat there for a moment, fists clenched, demon screaming inside him. Then dropped his head into his hands and wept. God help me, I still love you, slayer. Tried to move on. Tried to dull the pain. Seeing you again, oh God… He could find no words. To see her again, even for a moment had been like a glimpse of heaven. But to have to lose her again and again seemed more than he could bear.   Finally he sat up and shook himself. Gotta pull it together, William. She’s probably watching you here blubbering like a big ponce and laughing her ass off. If it even is her. He still wondered if somehow it was in his mind, or was some kind of trick. That would be easier – he could block it out, find the person doing this and beat them senseless, whatever. But deep in his heart, he felt that it was really her. His slayer. To have her be in pain, fallen from heaven, stuck in this limbo was heartbreaking.   At last Spike stood up and squared his shoulders. Fuck it. I’m just going to assume it’s her, and figure out how to send her back. Don’t care what the others say. Don’t care if it is in my mind. I’m not going to risk leaving the girl I love in pain. Having made the decision, Spike felt somewhat calmer, more in control. His senses reminded him of the rapidly approaching dawn, so he quickly covered the remaining ground to his crypt.   He grabbed some blood out of his fridge and drank it down in two gulps. He hunted up a cigarette and leaned against a sarcophagus, taking long drags and pondering his next move. Ok, we know she was in heaven, and is now a ghost or spirit or whatever the hell she is, he thought. So I need some sort of magic or something to manage spirits. He took another long drag and then made his decision. Time for some research.   He descended to the lower level of the crypt and rummaged around for a small notebook and a pen. Shoving these in his duster pocket, he took off through the tunnels that riddled Sunnydale. After a number of twists and turns, he emerged into the basement of the Magic Box. Usually when he needed to nick things, the others never even knew he was there. But today, he needed to hit the library, which meant going upstairs and making nice with the Scoobies.   He opened the basement door to find no one immediately visible. Then Anya came in from the back room. “Oh!” she said, startled. “What can I do for you? And can I remind you that you owe me for all those herbs you’ve been ‘borrowing’?” She fixed him with a stern look.   “Before the week is out, I promise,” Spike lied. “Do you mind if I have a look at some of the book collection?”   Anya was suspicious. “How do I know you’re not plotting something evil?” she asked, frowning.   “Please, I just want to do a little research. You have my word as an Englishman that I am not plotting any nefarious schemes.”   “Hmm. Well, ok. But I’m right here and I’ve got my eye on you,” Anya said finally. Then a customer came in and distracted Anya’s attention toward potential capitalist gain.   Relieved at having overcome that hurdle, Spike started to browse the shelves. There were plenty of books and spells about how to banish evil spirits, but he wasn’t sure that applied. Buffy was not evil. Of course it could be something evil that looked like Buffy. But Spike had already rejected that path. He figured if it was an evil thing that looked like Buffy it would be trying harder to do something to him, rather than asking him for help. So, no banishing evil spirits.   There were a bunch of books with theories about ghosts and how they came to be. But as he read he learned that ghosts usually started showing up soon after death, in response to some great injustice or some unfinished business. Buffy hadn’t died a natural death due to human injustice of any kind. And she said that she had felt ‘finished’ and at peace, therefore unfinished business hadn’t brought her back. Besides, it seemed like the ghosts in that state wanted to come back – Buffy clearly didn’t.   Spike started looking for spells about raising the dead. But most of them seemed unpromising and likely to leave the newly raised person a shell of their former selves. Buffy was definitely still Buffy, even without a corporeal body.   The door rang, breaking his concentration. “Anya! It’s me!” called Xander. Then he stopped and noticed Spike. “What are you doing here at this hour, deadboy? Aren’t all good little creatures of the night supposed to be asleep now?”   Wanker, thought Spike. Aloud he said, “Just wanted to look something up.”   Xander came over and grabbed the book out of Spike’s hand. “Ghosts? Still seeing things? Maybe you should cut it down to three bottles of booze a day.”   “Fuck off,” Spike growled, snatching the book back. He turned back to the shelves, pointedly ignoring Xander.   “What’s his problem?” Xander muttered as he went over to greet Anya.   Anya shrugged, “I don’t know. He came in here about an hour or two ago and started researching something.” Xander gave Spike one more dirty look, and then turned to converse quietly with Anya.   Spike ignored them and continued his work. In a way, he was getting a certain amount of satisfaction from his quest. Back in his university days he had relished trying to find some obscure reference or passage. Of course if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he usually turned that obscure passage into terrible poetry. But the act of rummaging through books with a goal in mind had been a comfort then, and he felt a little of that now. Having decided that, whether he was completely mad or not, he was going to help Buffy, he felt a sense of purpose that had been lacking for a while.   Where are we then? he asked himself. Not an evil spirit, so no going all Exorcist on the girl. Not a restless spirit out for revenge or justice. None of these books seem to mention any successful attempts at raising the dead… He looked up at the books of black magic kept carefully sequestered on the upper shelves. There might be an answer in there, but he would have to look at those when the others weren’t around or they would be accusing him of plotting against them. Like I would waste my time.   He had a thought. He ran his fingers along the spines until he came to a title about dimensions. Sitting down, he read about dozens of different hell dimensions. But there was surprisingly little about heavenly realms. Spike guessed that that made sense. It was a Watcher’s library, essentially. Threats tended to come from the side of evil, not the side of good. He was going to have to look elsewhere for that information.   Spike cracked his neck and looked at the clock. It was nearly noon. He had been up all night, and was starting to feel it. Probably time to head home, pick this up later. He put the book back and started toward the basement door.   “Hey, Spike!” called Xander.   “Yeah?”   “Can you patrol tonight? Anya and I have an anniversary to celebrate…”   “Our first wild sex,” Anya put in helpfully.   “Too much info, sweetheart,” Xander reproached her. “So, are you going to be around?”   Typical. I’m the plotting evil genius until they want to go out. Then I’m everyone’s best friend. But he was too tired to argue. “Sure,” he said. “Tell the witches they can stay home if they want too. I’ll do fine on my own.”   “Great. Let us know if you find anything suspicious,” Xander said dismissively, turning back to Anya.   The occasional ‘thank you’ would be nice, you know. Spike rolled his eyes and descended to the tunnels. He was tired and cross, and felt not much closer to solving Buffy’s problem. When he got back to his crypt he looked around hopefully, but he saw nothing except his own untidy belongings. I really should clean up this dump sometime. He looked around, remembered that he was out of whiskey, then reached in his pocket and realized he was out of cigarettes too. Cursing, he gave up, tossed his duster on a chair, kicked off his boots, and threw himself into bed as is. Within minutes he was asleep.   TBC

Chapter #4 - Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon. Just borrowing. Thanks again, reviewers!   *********************   Buffy reached Spike’s crypt just as he was leaving to go on patrol. “Spike!” she called. To her surprise, he turned toward her.   “So you’re back, I see,” he said dryly.   “You can see me again?” she asked, hoping against hope.   “Yeah, I see you, for all the good it does you,” Spike sighed. “Did some research in the Magic Box earlier. Haven’t gotten all that far.”   “Are you going to patrol?” she asked.   “Yeah. Told the Scoobies I would,” he answered. “Coming?”   They walked together through the cemeteries, but it seemed a quiet night. “So what were you up to all day, Slayer?” Spike asked after a while.   “Watching my sister skip school,” Buffy responded in an exasperated tone. “She pulled a fast one on Tara this morning, lied about doing her homework this afternoon, and erased a message that said she had four absences this term already. Four! The term is barely a few weeks old! She’s going to end up expelled!”   “Or worse, getting stuck in some foster home,” he mused. “She still doesn’t hear you?”   “No,” said Buffy sadly. “None of them do. I feel so helpless. Dawn spent most of the day hanging out at the cemetery crying. And there was nothing I could do to help her or comfort her.” Buffy sounded on the verge of tears herself. “Willow and Tara are nice enough, but they seem oblivious. They’re all concentrating on their schoolwork and magic, and not even noticing how sad Dawn is.”   “I know, pet,” Spike sighed. “I’ve tried my best to be there for Dawn. But the others get wrapped up in their own stuff sometimes and she just seems to fall through the cracks, you know?”   “At least you’re there for her,” Buffy said. “Could you talk to her soon about this skipping school nonsense?”   “Course I will,” Spike said. He was momentarily distracted by coming across a trio of fledges chasing some hapless pedestrian. Buffy watched as Spike whirled, kicked and staked the three vampires almost without effort. Never noticed what an amazing fighter he is. I mean, I knew he was a tough opponent, but he’s got some moves. Spike brushed the last of the vampire dust from his coat and turned to Buffy. “Where were we?”   Buffy stared intently at him. “Spike, why did you stay?” she asked finally.   “Made a promise to a lady,” he answered quietly. Then embarrassed, he started off again on the rest of the patrol. Buffy could see she wasn’t going to get any more out of him on that subject at present, so she followed him in silence for a while.   After a while the silence got to her and she said, “Did the research turn up anything about how something like this could have come about?”   “Hard to say,” Spike began. “If it’s magic of some kind, it’s got to be powerful stuff.”   “Willow, maybe?” Buffy wondered.   Spike considered, then shook his head. “She’s become powerful, I grant you. But a spell strong enough to pull someone out of heaven? That would have taken a lot of preparation and planning. I haven’t noticed that level of activity. But then, they have all day to do things while I’m not around much, so who knows?”   “Could I have done something wrong?” Buffy asked in a small voice.   Spike stopped and turned to her. He instinctively reached up to touch her face, but forgot about the ghost problem and his hand passed through. Dropping his hand dejectedly he said, “Slayer, you sacrificed yourself to save the whole world, after years of dedicating yourself to fighting the forces of darkness. Far as I can tell you’ve always done the right thing. Whatever happened can’t possibly be your fault.”   Buffy felt reassured by his gentle tone, and his concerned eyes. “Thanks,” she said softly.   “We’ll sort this, Buffy,” Spike said. “In fact, I have an idea on where to look for more information.”   “Where?”   “I figure that I need to find out more about heavenly dimensions and dealing with benign spirits. Rupert’s collection seems to be more concerned with evil, given your unreasonable need to slay us evil types.” Buffy smiled a bit at his attempt at humor. “So I need to get into some sort of church or seminary and look at their library. They might have info on misplaced angels.”   “I’m no angel, Spike,” Buffy said, slightly embarrassed.   “You are to me,” he responded tenderly. They stared at each other for a long minute, until Buffy looked away, overcome by the intensity in his eyes.   “What are you going to do now?” she asked. “I think you’ve pretty much patrolled the whole place.”   “I was pondering a little breaking and entering into the public library. Could use their computer to try to get somewhere on narrowing down the search.”   “Why not just use Willow’s computer at my house? You could check up on Dawn at the same time.” Buffy suggested.   “I guess,” Spike agreed reluctantly. “Don’t always feel like my presence is welcome there. I think they suspect I’m a bad influence or something.”   “But they trust you enough to patrol and watch Dawn, so what’s the problem?”   Spike shrugged. “I’m still a vampire, Buffy. Guess they’ll never quite forget that.” But he turned his feet toward Revello Drive anyhow. He’d do anything for this girl – even face her friends.   It was about ten o’clock when he got to the house. He knocked on the kitchen door and poked his head in. “Red? Glinda?”   Tara stuck her head in from the dining room. “Spike? What are you doing here?”   “Just finished patrol, wanted to see how the Nibblet was doing,” Spike replied. “I also wanted to borrow your computer for a bit. Need to look something up on the internet.”   “Dawn went to bed,” Tara replied. “Come on in. I think Willow’s computer is free for the moment.”   Spike followed her into the dining room with Buffy trailing invisibly behind. “Spike? Aren’t you going to tell them I’m here?” she asked.   Spike turned automatically and was about to answer when Willow saw him and said, “Spike? What are you looking at?” Her tone was instantly suspicious.   “I… “ He swallowed and took the plunge. “I keep seeing Buffy. Hearing her voice. She says she’s trapped in this in between state, a ghost. She can’t touch anything or feel anything, and it’s hell for her.”   “Buffy?” came Dawn’s voice from the stairs. She had not been asleep and had come to eavesdrop when she heard Spike enter. “You heard Buffy? Saw her? Where?”   “She’s right beside me, Nibblet. I can hear her, see her. I don’t know why you can’t. She’s been trying to get your attention for days.”   “What is she saying now?” Dawn demanded.   “Tell her she better stop skipping school or I’ll haunt her!” Buffy said sternly.   Spike turned to Dawn. “She says she’ll haunt you if you keep skipping school.” Dawn started a little guiltily. How could he know that? He must have some demon spying on me or something.   “Dawn hasn’t been skipping school!” Willow said indignantly. “We’ve been making sure she gets off to school and all that.” She hasn’t, has she? Willow had a little twinge of guilt as well. During the run up to the big spell she had been researching and gathering obscure materials night and day. After the letdown of the spell’s failure, she had been more focused on finding out why it hadn’t worked than a lot of the details of Dawn’s day. “Besides, we would have heard from school by now if she was skipping,” she added.   Dawn didn’t exactly meet Spike’s eyes when she said angrily, “Why are you doing this? Pretending to see her? She’s gone. She left me just like everyone else leaves me. Why don’t you just go leave me too and be done with it already!” She turned and stomped back up the stairs, slamming her door.   “That was low,” said Tara. “Encouraging her to go to school is one thing, but telling her that Buffy is back? But only talking to you? That’s just cruel.” Tara was shocked that Spike would do something like this to Dawn. She was sure that if there had been a spirit there she would sense it or something. She saw auras and was pretty sensitive to the supernatural.   “Dammit!” cried Spike. “Why do none of you believe me? Like I have nothing better to do than to sit around making up shit like this?” Maybe now Buffy’ll see why I didn’t want to bring these idiots into this. Nothing I do is good enough.   “Spike, you’ve been acting weird for days now,” said Willow. “Maybe you just need to take a break for a while.”   “A break from what?” yelled Spike. “Doing all your dirty work so you Scoobies can study and go out to dinner? Watching Dawn when you can’t be bothered? You seem more than willing to order me around, but if I say something you don’t feel like hearing, I’m back to ‘crazed evil vampire’ status in a heartbeat!”   “You need to leave,” Willow said sternly. Her eyes grew darker as the magic started to swirl inside her.   Spike could see that this was going nowhere. He would be no help to Buffy if Willow decided to turn him into a slug or something. “Fine. Just… keep an eye on Dawn, alright? Make sure she’s doing what she’s supposed to.” He turned and left, slamming the door harder than strictly necessary as he did.   Buffy was furious. She yelled to the unhearing witches, “How dare you? Are you that stupid? Dawn’s slipping! Spike’s just trying to help. What does he have to do to get you to listen?” She desperately wanted to punch something. Clenching her fists in frustration, she passed through the door and went after Spike.   “Spike!” she yelled. Please let him still see me please please please. She breathed a sigh of relief when Spike turned at her call.   “Now you know why I wanted to break into the library,” he said bitterly. “Can’t win with that bunch.”   “I can’t believe they would treat you like that,” Buffy said. And I can’t believe you’ve hung around all this time if that’s the way they treat you.   “Used to it, pet,” he sighed. He turned toward town. “I need some smokes. Coming?”   Buffy hesitated. “I think I’m going to hang around here a little more. I want to keep an eye on Dawn.”   “I understand,” Spike said. “You know you can find me at my crypt after sunrise, yeah?”   “I’ll find you,” Buffy agreed. Then they parted.   Spike made his way downtown, finding a convenience store to replenish his supply of cigarettes and whiskey. He paused when he passed the public library on his way home. Stashing his groceries behind a shrub, he circled the building until he came to a service door. The lock was old, and easily forced. He entered quietly, listening for any alarm system or night watchman. Hearing nothing, he went inside and found a computer on the main floor. He was by no means proficient with these things, having been turned prior to reliable typewriters. But he knew enough to turn it on and open a browser.   He searched for quite a while, looking for anything he could about heavenly dimensions, benign ghosts, anything he could think to search on. He came up with lots of information, some of it useful, but most of it just a repeat of what he knew already. Then he came across a reference to a particular ancient Christian ritual. It was essentially a series of prayers and a blessing. It was a variation on the prayers for the dead, meant to ease the passage of the soul of a saint from this world to the Christian heaven. Hmm. Buffy’s not a Christian, not exactly a saint either. Still, maybe it could help her… The website lacked sufficient detail, and the described ritual seemed to be from a poor translation. He needed to find the original ritual – make sure he didn’t send her somewhere else by mistake.   He made a few notes and turned off the computer. Slipping back outside, he retrieved his bag and headed back to the crypt. He made his way down to the lower level, kicked off his boots, and cracked open a bottle of whiskey. He welcomed the burn down his throat as he contemplated his next move.   **************   Buffy watched Spike until he passed out of sight. Then she sighed and went back into her house. She found Tara and Willow in hushed conversation in the kitchen, clearly trying to make sure Dawn wouldn’t overhear.   “You don’t think Spike really sees Buffy, do you?” Willow was asking.   “I don’t know,” Tara replied. “I didn’t sense any presence other than us, and him. But he thinks he’s telling the truth. I could see it in his aura – he wasn’t lying, to his mind.”   “Could he be going crazy like Drusilla?”   Tara shook her head. “She was driven insane by mental torture. No one’s been torturing Spike.” A thought came to Tara’s mind. “Could it be that spell?”   What spell? Buffy thought. Enough with the cryptic already!   “No,” said Willow. “I checked. It seems to either work, or not. I didn’t find anything to indicate that it could have any particular side effects.” Willow was not speaking the exact truth. She had found that failed resurrection spells often meant the death of the witch involved, but Tara didn’t really need to know that.   “Then what is he seeing?” Tara wondered.   “I can’t imagine… “ Willow paused, her eyes widening. “The First Evil.”   Buffy slapped herself on the head and groaned. Dear God, what a freaking mess. “Earth to Willow! Not evil here! Just want to get back to that whole eternal reward thingy!” she yelled.   “First Evil? What’s that?” asked Tara.   “A few years ago, when Buffy and Angel were still together, Angel started seeing all these spirits of people he had killed.” Willow explained. “Turned out it was this big primeval badness messing with him, trying to get him to kill Buffy.”   “Oh my,” said Tara. “How… how did she defeat it?”   “Not entirely sure. There were these creepy minions called Bringers. Buffy killed a few of them. But not really sure how it all stopped. I guess Angel nearly killed himself over it. Buffy was too freaked out to really talk about it much.”   “If he’s under the influence of this evil thing, could he be a danger?” Tara asked, worried.   “I’m not sure. But maybe we should try to find out a little more about this First Evil, just in case that’s it,” said Willow. “And maybe we shouldn’t let him stay alone with Dawn until its safe.”   Buffy wanted to pound her head against the wall. “Great. Now I’m the First. I guess it’s better than being a drunken hallucination,” she muttered aloud. She went upstairs to check on Dawn. Dawn had fallen asleep, but her face was still stained with tears. I’m so sorry, Dawnie. I’m sorry Mom’s gone. I’m sorry our dad is a loser, and my friends are clueless. Buffy lay down on the bed next to her sister and watched her sleep, a solitary tear drifting down her face.   TBC

Chapter #5 - Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon. Sigh. Thanks to the reviewers, especially Mazza! ******************   Buffy watched her sister get up to start another day. She was just as sullen and uninterested as the day before. Buffy followed her and found Xander in the kitchen talking to Willow. “Morning, Dawnster,” he said. “Your chariot merely awaits your consumption of breakfast goodness.”   Dawn shrugged, grabbed a box of cereal, and poured herself a bowl. Xander chatted about his dinner date with Anya while Willow did dishes and Dawn chewed mechanically. Dawn figured she had better go to school today, at least. No sense raising suspicions. She had wanted to believe Spike so badly the night before. She’d give anything to see her sister again. But Tara was probably right – just some ploy to get her to go to school. He had some nerve. Wasn’t he the one who said that school turned people into mindless automatons or whatever he had said? Dawn sighed, and got up to clear her place. Fine. They can make me go, but they can’t make me do anything while I’m there.   “I’m all set,” she said to Xander.   “See you later, Wills,” Xander said, ushering Dawn out the door. Buffy got in the car too, drifting through the door into the back seat. Once in the car, Xander asked, “Anything interesting going on?”   “Not really,” Dawn replied, staring out the window. Xander made a few attempts to strike up a conversation with her, but they went nowhere. When they got to school, Dawn said, “Thanks for the ride.”   “Dawn,” said Xander, putting his hand on her arm. “We all miss her. But you can’t stop living because she’s gone. She wouldn’t want that.”   Dawn shrugged his hand off. “Whatever,” she mumbled. Then she got out, slammed the door, and wandered up to school. Buffy followed her until she was sure that Dawn was actually going to class. Then she stood in the hallway of the school, wondering where to go. She was roused from her reverie by the weird sensation of three football players walking through her. She shook herself and headed over to Spike’s place.   She found Spike passed out, fully clothed in his chair, an empty bottle of whiskey having fallen from his hand to the floor. Maybe the booze is how he deals with the loneliness. She realized with a faint stab of pity that he really had no one, other than maybe Dawn. He spent time with the Scoobies and Dawn, but was tolerated for the most part, not welcomed and accepted. She had only been a ghost for a short time but the isolation and lack of contact with anything was already starting to drive her to distraction. He had dealing with this for months.   She watched him sleep for a long while, then he twitched and moved in his sleep. She called out, “Spike? Are you alive?”   Spike woke up at the sound of her voice and groaned, “No, and haven’t been for 120 years. Now do keep your voice down, would you?” He rubbed his neck, stiff from sleeping in the chair, and shook his head in an effort to focus.   “What did you do last night?” she asked.   “Went to the library. Did some research. Patrolled and killed things until nearly dawn. Came home. Got drunk. Passed out,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes once more.   Buffy felt a little guilty about disturbing him after only a few hours of sleep. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that you might want to watch yourself around the Scoobies,” Buffy said. “Willow and Tara think you’re being influenced by the First.”   “The what?” Spike asked, opening his eyes once more.   “The First Evil,” Buffy explained. “Some mystic ancient evil force. It messed with Angel once, tried to convince him to kill me. Appeared to him looking like people he had killed. He nearly dusted himself to escape from it.”   “Bloody wonderful,” muttered Spike. He staggered to his feet and went off to his bathroom. Buffy heard him turning on the sink and splashing some water on his face. He came back, combing his hair on the way. “What time is it?” He had a watch in this mess somewhere, but it would probably take a shovel to unearth it at this point.   “Not sure. They didn’t think to bury me with a watch.” Buffy added.   Spike smirked a little at that. “Too bad they didn’t bury you in something a little more flattering.”   Buffy rolled her eyes. “Got that right. I mean, geez, I hated this dress when I was alive. Why make me wear it for all eternity?” She looked ruefully at the conservative black affair she seemed stuck in.   “I guess they were going for somber, pet,” he answered quietly. He remembered the day of her funeral. He had been barely able to stand, still injured from the fall off the tower. He had come after sunset to her grave. Angel had been there, possessive to the last, demanding to know what Spike was doing there. Spike had refused to answer his grandsire at all. He just left a bunch of roses he had nicked on the Slayer’s grave and walked away. He hadn’t wanted to cry in front of Angel.   “Spike?” Buffy spoke, stirring Spike out of his memories. “Where did you go?”   He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor, his elbows on his knees. “It was so hard, Buffy. Seeing you there, like some broken doll.” His voice was husky with emotion. “If not for that promise, to look after Dawn, I probably would have walked into the sun that very day.”   “Why?” Buffy demanded. “Why do you stay? They treat you like crap, I hardly ever said anything nice to you when I was alive. Why would you want to… do that to yourself?”   He looked at her then, blue eyes serious and deep. “I love you, Buffy. Can’t help it. Didn’t ask for it. But there it is. I love you.”   Buffy had no idea how to react to this man, this creature, and his pure, unashamed love for her. “I don’t know what to say,” she spoke at last.   Spike stood up. “’S ok, pet,” he said, trying to change the subject. “Let’s figure out how we can solve your problem, yeah?”   Buffy nodded. Not the day to sort out Spike and his feelings for me, I guess. “What can I do to help?”   “Can you go back to your place and see if the witches have any books about early Christian rituals? It’s a long shot, but if they have it then I don’t have to go breaking into any churches. Just look at the titles, try to remember anything interesting. I’m going to have another crack at the books at the Magic Box, now that I know what I’m looking for,” Spike said.   “Christian rituals?” Buffy questioned. “I’m not exactly big on the whole Christianity thing.”   “Can’t say the idea of spending time around crosses thrills me either,” Spike remarked. “It’s a long shot, but it’s the best lead I have at present.”   Buffy shrugged, said goodbye, and headed upstairs while Spike went for the tunnels. It was about one o’clock when she reached her house. Willow and Tara were there, classes having ended early that day. Willow had pulled out a huge collection of books, herbs, candles, and whatnot in order to organize things and perhaps find some information on the First. The dishes from their lunch were left unwashed in the kitchen while they worked. Buffy shook her head as she watched them. You’re barking up the wrong tree, guys.   Just then, the doorbell rang. Tara and Willow looked at each other. “Who could that be?” Willow asked. Xander and Anya usually just walked right in.   Tara went to the door. She opened it to find a matronly looking lady on the front step. “Are you Ms. Summers?” she asked.   “She’s not available right now. Can I help you?”   “I’m Mrs. Davis, from social services. We were hoping to meet with Ms. Summers. Dawn’s school called and said she has missed a number of days of school this term with no explanation. They are concerned about her wellbeing.”   Tara fought to keep calm. “Come in. I’ll s..see if I can find her.” Mrs. Davis followed Tara into the living room, where Willow was in the middle of sorting out bags of herbs. The woman’s eyes widened as she saw the suspicious looking pile of bags. “Willow, is Buffy around? Mrs. Davis is here from social services.”   Oh crap, thought Willow. Realizing what the herbs must look like, she quickly said, “Um, Tara, can you put these back in the kitchen? And put oregano on the list – that’s the one we’re out of. I think Buffy might be upstairs napping. I’ll go see.”   Mrs. Davis tsked. “Napping? At this hour?”   “She, um, works nights,” Tara said as she cleaned up the herbs.   Willow ran upstairs into her bedroom and quickly flipped through a spell book. She found a spell to create a glamour – a short lived illusion. Muttering the words, she made a gesture, and with a slight pop, found herself transformed into Buffy. The real Buffy had followed her upstairs, and raised her eyebrows at the sight of Willow transforming into her twin. This ought to be good. How is she going to pull this off, I wonder?   Willow ran back downstairs, now completely disguised as Buffy. Tara nearly gasped, but quickly realized what Willow had done. Willow stuck out her hand, “I’m Buffy. Sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?”   “Ms. Summers, how often has your sister been absent this term?”   Willow scratched her newly blonde hair. “Only once or twice I think. She always gets colds in September. All the kids passing viruses around.”   “Ms. Summers, are you aware that your sister has had four absences, with no phone calls from you?” Mrs. Davis enquired sternly. “She hasn’t turned in homework yet this term. She rarely brings lunch, is uncooperative with her teachers, and generally seems disengaged with school completely.”   “She… “ Willow tried to think quickly. “Someone we’re close to died over the summer. It was very hard on her.”   “I see,” said Mrs. Davis. “Are you getting counseling for her or anything?”   “N..No,” Willow said uncertainly. “She seems alright at home.”   “I would like to be shown around your house, if I may,” Mrs. Davis said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Willow swallowed, plastered a fake smile on Buffy’s face, and led Mrs. Davis into the kitchen. Shit, bad idea. She had forgotten about the dishes. Mrs. Davis opened the fridge. They had intended to go shopping that afternoon. At present, the fridge was almost bare.   “Don’t you have any food in the house?” the social worker demanded.   “Of course! We just need to go shopping today.”   Mrs. Davis continued on into the dining room. The table was strewn with spellbooks, covered in pentagrams and other arcane symbols that must have looked Satanic to someone like Mrs. Davis. “What are all these for?”   “Um, Tara and Willow study ancient languages,” Willow answered.   “Do they live here too?”   “Yes. They’re old friends. They help with the house and Dawn.”   “Have they gone through a criminal records check?” Mrs. Davis asked.   “Um, not sure?” Willow responded.   “The conditions of your guardianship state that no unrelated adults may cohabitate without undergoing a thorough background check.” Mrs. Davis turned to face Willow. “Ms. Summers, I am deeply concerned. Your house has unauthorized people living in it who clearly are studying something unsavory, judging from the books they leave around.”   “But those are…” Willow protested.   “Furthermore, your house is unkempt, and you do not appear to have sufficient food in the house for a growing teen. She has not been eating at school and the school nurse is concerned. Judging from the piles of bills over there-“ Mrs. Davis looked pointedly at the small hall table that was indeed piled with ‘past due’ notices, “you are not managing your finances well. You do not seem able to ensure that she attends and participates in school either. I am afraid I will have to recommend that Dawn be removed from your custody, pending further investigation.”   “What??” yelled Willow and Buffy. No! thought Buffy. Don’t take her away! This is all she has left!   “I’m sorry, Ms. Summers, but until you prove that you can be a fit guardian, we must ensure Dawn’s safety. I am going to have to ask you to pack a suitcase for her. We will pick her up at school and take her to a foster home. We will contact you to let you know your rights in this matter.   Willow despaired. She needed to use her magic to maintain the illusion. If she dropped the illusion to put some sort of spell on Mrs. Davis, she wasn’t sure what would happen. She looked at Tara, who had heard the whole exchange. Tara realized that they were trapped. “I’ll get her things, W…Buffy,” Tara said. “It will only be for a little while. We’ll get her back.”   Tara went upstairs to pack a bag for Dawn. Tears welled in Willow’s eyes. “Please, don’t take her. I’m all she has. Please.” Willow nearly shook with the effort of holding the spell and her emotions.   Mrs. Davis appeared to soften a minute amount. “I’m sorry, Ms. Summers. But it’s the law. I’m a mandated reporter, and I am required to report my concerns. If you follow our procedure, I’m sure your sister will be back soon. In the meantime, you really need to see to your affairs better.”   Buffy was in shock.The thought of Dawn in some foster home was like a knife in her heart. Why did I have to come back to see this? Dawnie…   Tara returned with the suitcase and reluctantly passed it over to Mrs. Davis. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Summers,” she said. Then she turned and left.   Willow staggered to a chair and collapsed, abruptly turning back into herself. “Oh Tara!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “What did we do?”   “Shh, it’s ok baby, shh,” Tara knelt down and took Willow in her arms. They wept on each other’s’ shoulders. “We’ll figure out how to get her back, I promise.”   Willow sobbed harder. “We failed Buffy again,” she moaned   “Fucking right you did!” Buffy screamed. “Too busy playing with magic to, I dunno, pay the kid five minutes of attention! Self-centered bitches!” Buffy forgot herself and tried to kick the wall, ending up halfway through it for her trouble. She screamed incoherently with rage. “Why? Why the hell did I have to come back here? Haven’t I gone through enough already? How many more times do I need to die? How much more do I have to suffer until whoever is up there is done fucking with me?” Beside herself, she stumbled out of the house, blind with utter fury.   ******************   Spike had traveled through the tunnels to the Magic Box again, once more slightly startling Anya with his appearance from the basement. “Mind if I have another go at the library?” he asked.   “Fine,” she said. “But if I see you in the black magic section…”   “No fear, demon girl,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. He went to the bookshelves and searched methodically. There was very little about Christian rites or rituals, beyond the standard exorcism stuff. Always thought the Watchers were a heathen lot, he mused. He found a reference to the writings of St. Theophilious – that might be of use. He jotted it down, and continued searching.   The phone rang, and Anya answered it, “Magic Box, may I help you?” She listened for a moment then gasped, “How did that happen? When? Yes, I’ll tell Xander. For how long? Oh no…”   Spike’s ears perked up. He looked up from the book to see that Anya had a shocked and sad expression on her face. After a few more words, she hung up the phone.   “What’s happened?” asked Spike.   “That was Willow,” Anya replied. “Dawn was taken away by social services.”   “What??” roared Spike. “How? When? For how long?”   “They don’t know,” Anya explained. Just then the door jingled and Xander came in. “Hey Anya, deadboy, what’s…” he paused, taking in the look on Anya and Spike’s faces. “What’s wrong?”   “Dawn’s been taken away,” said Anya. Anya quickly explained the situation to both men. Spike’s heart felt like it was being slowly crushed as Anya explained how Willow had tried to impersonate Buffy, but had in the end failed to convince the social worker. “They don’t know where they’re taking her, or how they’re going to get her back.”   “We’ve got to find her!” cried Spike. “We can’t just leave her to rot in some foster home!”   “Spike, calm down,” said Xander. “We need to figure this out.”   “What’s to figure out?” Spike said. “She’s the Slayer’s sister! We find her, and bring her back!”   “Oh, real smart,” Xander retorted. “Then what? Hide her in your crypt? They’ll just come get her back again if we try to do something stupid. “   “Maybe it’s for the best,” said Anya in her usual blunt manner. “I mean, a teen probably needs a more stable family than a couple of witches and a vampire.”   Spike couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re just going to let her go?” he yelled. “She’s all we have left of Buffy, and you’re just going to let them take her?”   “This is beyond our control, Spike!” Xander yelled back. “We lose, they win this round. Accept it.”   “Fuck that,” Spike spat out. He slammed down the book and stomped off toward the tunnels. Swearing a blue streak he flew through the tunnels until he reached the sewer closest to Buffy’s house. Taking his duster off and throwing it over his head, he dashed the short distance to her porch and threw himself in the door.   “What the fuck did you do?” he screamed at the startled witches. “You lost her! How could you?”   Tara tried to calm him down. “Spike, it wasn’t our fault. She wanted to talk to Buffy…”   “I tried to tell you she was skipping school. You didn’t listen. You could have called the school and straightened this all out, if you got your goddamned heads out of your spells for ten minutes and looked around once in a while.”   “We’ll get her back,” Willow said in a quavering voice. “I’ll find a spell that will…”   “A spell. Lovely.” Spike growled. “Can’t fix everything with magic, Red. There’s always consequences. Always.” Frustrated beyond belief, he threw his coat back over his head and dashed back to the sewer.   Spike stormed through the sewer in a black rage. Sodding idiots, all of them. He desperately wanted to go use his vampire senses to track Dawn down to whatever damn foster home they stuck her in. Fucking sunlight. By the time he could go out again her trail would be impossible to pick up. She could be anywhere.   He blasted into his crypt and snagged the bottle of whiskey off the bedside table. Polishing the half empty bottle off in one long swallow he roared and whipped the bottle against the wall, sending glass flying everywhere. Then he lashed out and slammed his fist into the wall, breaking two fingers in his anger. “Fucking hell!” he screamed, vamping out from the pain.   “SPIKE!”   Startled, Spike spun around to see Buffy standing at the bottom of the stairs. His yellow eyes took in her expression and instantly knew that she knew – Dawn was gone. With an effort he shook off his gameface. “Buffy… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, couldn’t get there…” he babbled.   “Stupid bitches! Both of them!” Buffy snapped. Spike was so shocked he momentarily forgot about his fractured fingers. He had never heard her get this angry at any of the Scoobies. No matter what they did, she always forgave them and made excuses for them. He had seen her angry before, but this fury, and the target, was new.   “Do you know what happened?” Spike asked, cautiously.   “Of course I do!” Buffy exploded. “I was there. The house was a mess, Willow had her fucking herbs and spellbooks all over, no food in the house, and no explanation for why Dawn hadn’t turned in any homework yet this whole term! Willow tried using some spell to look like me, but all she succeeded in doing is making me look like an incompetent guardian!”   “I’ll find her, love,” said Spike, closing the distance between them. Christ, I would give my fangs to be able to touch her. “There’s got to be a way to find her.”   Buffy looked up at him with miserable eyes. “Get me out of here, Spike. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t I can’t I can’t…” her rage dissolved into grief as she dropped into Spike’s chair and covered her face, shuddering.   “Oh Slayer…” he whispered. In all of his years he had never felt as helpless as he did that minute. He couldn’t comfort her, couldn’t find Dawn, and couldn’t send her back to where she belonged. All he could do was sit on his bed, and watch her suffer.   After a while, Buffy pulled herself together. “Sorry,” she sniffed quietly.   “Don’t be,” Spike answered. “I’m just as angry and upset as you.” He examined his right hand which had swollen and was turning all sorts of colors.   Buffy followed his gaze. “Your hand,” she said, with pity in her voice. She looked closely at his face. “You haven’t been feeding, have you?”   Spike thought about it. “I guess I sort of forgot to eat today.”   “Well, go have something now. You look terrible.”   Spike managed a half smile. “Thanks ever so, pet. Glad I can still inflame the senses.” He rose and went upstairs to his fridge. He took the last container of blood out of his fridge and drank it cold. It was vile that way, but he didn’t care enough to be bothered at this point. He returned to the lower level to see Buffy pacing around, looking at his things.   “Were you always this messy?” Buffy asked.   “Guess I have let it go a bit,” he admitted. “Don’t have a lot of visitors.” He took off his duster and boots. “I need to get some kip, let these broken fingers mend a bit. You want to meet somewhere later?”   Shyly, Buffy asked, “Is it ok if I hang out here? I don’t really want to go back to my house right now.”   “Of course, Slayer,” Spike said. He lay down on his bed, and Buffy, after a moment’s hesitation, lay down beside him. Spike’s eyes widened a little. His hand was resting on the bed. She covered it with hers, and even though her hand passed through his with no sensation on either side, it comforted them both somehow, and they both closed their eyes to rest.   TBC

Chapter #6 - Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All the vampires are Joss Whedon’s.   ******************   When Spike woke it was just past sunset. His hand still hurt like hell, but the fingers could at least move somewhat. He looked over and saw Buffy open her eyes to meet his. “Evening, Slayer.”   Buffy sat up and looked around. “How can you tell? It’s always dark down here.”   Spike smirked. “Vampire, pet. Get to be able to sense when it’s safe to move about the cabin.” He got up and rummaged around for his boots.   “What’s the plan tonight?” Buffy asked.   “I need to go find some blood,” Spike replied, grabbing his coat. “Then I’m going to go do some more research. I’m afraid it’s going to involve some minor breaking and entering.”   “Just don’t hurt anyone, or frighten anyone unnecessarily, ok?”   “Yes, ma’am.” Spike said, saluting. Buffy rolled her eyes, and Spike smirked again. “What are you going to do?”   “I think I’m going to go and see what I can find out back at my house. Maybe they’ve had some news about where Dawn is.” Truthfully, Buffy was still so angry at Willow and Tara that she would rather stay with Spike, but concern for her sister’s whereabouts won the day.   “Meet you back here when we’re both finished then,” said Spike. Then they ascended the stairs and parted at the door of the crypt.   Spike crossed the cemetery to the place where he stashed his motorcycle. Kicking it to life, he drove to the butcher, had a good long feed of the best pig’s blood available, which wasn’t saying much, then headed out along the road out of town. There was an old monastery out beyond the city limits that his research seemed to indicate was likely to have a useful library. They were a conservative order of monks, tending toward solitary study and meditation more than active mingling with the community. If anyone was going to have ancient Christian rituals around, it would be these guys.   He came to a stop at the end of the long access road that led to the monastery. Stashing his bike in some bushes, he took off through the darkness toward the cluster of old buildings. The style told him that this place dated from the Spanish mission days. He quietly crept around until he found the kitchen door, which was unlocked. I suppose men of God dedicated to poverty don’t have a whole lot to steal. He stole in silently, moving like a shadow through the quiet building. After poking his head into a couple of rooms and finding a chapel and a dining area, he came to the library.   The walls were lined with old texts. Spike fished a flashlight out of his pocket and ran it over the titles. After fifteen minutes or so, he found a copy of the writings of St. Theophilious, who apparently had been around in the third century or so. He read of how some great saints had so much zeal to do the work of God that their souls refused to leave their bodies. They would be aged, sick, on death’s door, but wouldn’t let go and rise to heaven, still convinced they had work to do. A ritual had been performed involving prayers, blessing the saint with holy water, incense, candles – the whole nine yards. The idea was to give the soul a bit of a push, as he understood it, to get it to break its bonds with earth and go to its reward. He got out his notebook, and holding the flashlight in his teeth, made a copy of the Latin ritual. It was an extremely ancient form of the Latin, but he felt he could probably get it close enough, given his Victorian era schooling. He read the entire thing again, trying to make sure he understood all the details.   Suddenly, Spike heard a noise behind him. He whirled just as the light went on. A monk stood there, astonished. “You dare to come here? A creature of evil, in the house of God?”   Spike pocketed his notebook and flashlight and raised his hands. Apparently true men of God could tell a vampire as readily as a slayer could. “Not here to hurt anyone,” he said slowly. “Just needed some information, that’s all.”   The monk did not seem to be listening. He snatched a crucifix off a nearby wall and lunged at Spike with it. Spike backed away hastily, hands still held high. “I’m going, ok! Just, let me leave. Won’t trouble you further.”   “Spawn of Satan!” the monk declared, still coming forward with the crucifix. Spike knocked up against a table and the crucifix made contact with his outstretched palm.   “OW! Bloody hell!” yelled Spike. Enough of this. He shoved past the monk, howling in pain as his chip fired, but he managed to stumble out the door and down the hall. Wrenching open the exit, he fled out into the night, nursing his burned hand and his aching head.   He made his way back to his motorcycle. His hands were now both sore, the crucifix having hit his unbroken hand. Just wonderful. This bloody ritual better do something after all the pain it caused me. His bike rumbled to life and he screeched off into the night, back toward Sunnydale.   **************   Buffy had made her way back home, to find that Xander and Anya were over. She saw the four Scoobies through the window, munching on pizza. How can they be eating at a time like this?   She passed through the kitchen door and into the dining room. Xander was saying, “So they said Dawn can come home soon?”   “Well, soon is a relative term,” Willow replied. “First Buffy needs to take parenting classes, and then she needs to prove that she has the ability to support them both.”   “And how is Buffy supposed to do all this? She’s still… gone,” replied Xander. Buffy rolled her eyes. I’m dead, for heaven’s sake, not on vacation.   “Could you do the glamour spell again?” asked Anya.   “I’m not sure how long I could keep it up,” said Willow. “I mean, for a little while it’s not too bad, but it takes a lot of effort, and it can start to have some side effects if you do it too long.”   “What sort of side effects?” asked Tara, concerned.   “Like, going all crazy because you don’t know who you are any more sort of stuff,” Willow replied.   “So then how do we get her back?” asked Anya.   “I’m going to have to see if there is some way to strengthen the spell or something,” Willow replied. “It will take some time and research.”   “Speaking of research, what has Spike been up to lately?” Xander asked, reaching for more pizza. “Twice in the past week he’s been in the Magic Box reading everything he can find about spirits and ghosts and lord knows what else. I don’t trust him.” Buffy rolled her eyes. Well there’s a news flash. Next thing he’ll tell us is that the sky is blue.   “We were curious about that too,” Tara said. “He was here the other night, wanting to use the computer, saying he was seeing Buffy.”   “He somehow knew Dawn was skipping school, which was weird,” Willow added. “But Tara and I didn’t see or sense anything supernatural at all.”   “Maybe he’s finally pickled his brain with all the whiskey,” said Xander.   “We were wondering,” Willow began thoughtfully. “We were wondering if it could be the First Evil again.”   “You mean that thing that almost drove Angel nuts that one time?” Xander asked. “The last time it was trying to get Angel to kill Buffy. Could it be trying to get Spike to hurt Dawn?”   Tara protested, “He’s never done anything to hurt Dawn. He’s totally protective of her.”   “But if he’s being influenced by the First Evil, who knows what he might do,” Anya chimed in. “The First Evil is bad news. Even demons fear it.”   “We don’t know for sure if that’s what he’s seeing,” Willow conceded. “But just to be on the safe side, maybe we should disinvite him from our houses for a while, just until we know for sure.” What? Did you guys have stupid pills for breakfast? Buffy thought.   The others agreed. Willow did the ritual while the others cleared up after dinner. Then they all piled into Xander’s car to go do the same over at Xander and Anya’s apartment. Buffy let them go without trying to follow them. Great. Too busy worrying about the big, bad, evil Spike to discuss where Dawn is. I wish I could touch things so I could throw something at their fat heads. Dejected, she left, heading back to Spike’s crypt.   TBC

Chapter #7 - Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The characters are Mr. Whedon’s. Thanks again reviewers!   *******************   Buffy drifted around Spike’s bedroom, waiting for him to return. He had a beat up old dresser piled with all sorts of odds and ends. A comb, an empty bottle of peroxide, a very old picture in a frame showing what had to be Spike and Drusilla in the early 1920’s or so. She smiled at the picture – so his hair was really a bit darker under all that bleach. The curls were natural though. She took in a couple of books of poetry – poetry? Spike? – and a box of thumb rings and cuff links. She realized that for all that she had spent so much time reading up on him as an enemy, or working with him as a reluctant ally, she really didn’t know him very well. She knew he was passionate, capable of great loyalty, and true to his word. But what had he been like, all those years before they met? The things he must have seen. To have seen the first automobiles, a couple of world wars, the lunar landing – he was probably a walking history book. She felt a small pang of something like regret that she had never gotten to know him as anything other than an enemy or a fellow soldier in the never ending battle against evil.   She heard him enter the crypt upstairs and turned to greet him. He smiled when he saw her. “I think you’ve been visible for a couple of days now pet. New record.”   “Must be the company,” she said. He smirked a bit at that. He pulled a jar of blood out of a bag and sat down to drink it. “Did you get any more info?” she asked, perching on the edge of his bed.   “I think I have a way to send you back, love,” he responded. “Found the text I was looking for.” He looked ruefully at the cross burned into his hand. “Found a monk who objected to my presence as well.”   “You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Buffy asked.   “No. Chip won’t let me. ‘Sides, I promised you I wouldn’t,” he said quietly.   “So, when can we do this?” she asked.   Spike finished the blood and stared into the empty jar. “There’s one more thing I want to figure out before we do this,” he answered. “We want to make sure you stay there this time. There’s got to be a way to anchor you there somehow. You deserve to have your rest.” His voice trailed off to a near whisper.   Buffy looked at him curiously. “Spike? What’s the matter?”   “Nothing, pet,” he sighed. ”I’m just… going to miss you so.” He met Buffy’s gaze with pained eyes. Now that the adrenaline rush of the search had worn off, he realized exactly what he was planning to do. He was working very hard to send the one thing he loved more than anything else away forever. His heart was being torn out of his chest yet again, and this time he was the one making the cut.   Buffy felt a cold shiver of fear for a moment. “You’re not… you can do this, right?”   Spike put his hands out in front of her, palms up. She placed her ghostly hands on top of his, watching as they sank in and seemed to merge. “I swear to you, on all that I am and ever was, that I will do whatever I can to get you back to heaven. You know I love you, Buffy. And because I love you, I can’t sit by and watch while you suffer.”   “I don’t know what I did to earn your love,” Buffy responded. “But thank you, Spike. Thank you for everything.” If she had been able to she would have kissed him then, as she had when he had stood up to Glory for her and Dawn. She realized with certainty how hard this was for him, and how utterly selfless this supposedly evil creature was being. She searched and searched his fathomless blue eyes for an explanation, but found nothing but devotion, mixed with the pain of losing her again. Spike gazed at her for endless minutes, memorizing her features, drinking her in as if she were the last oasis in a desert. Then he sighed, withdrew his hands, and stood up.   “I think I need to go to the Magic Box one more time,” he said. “I am pretty sure the dark arts shelves have something about binding spirits to certain dimensions and such. Usually you use that sort of thing on evil spirits, I guess, but it should work for you as well.”   “The Scoobies are going to be a problem,” Buffy said. “They disinvited you from my house and Xander’s, and they still think you are under the influence of the First.”   “Guess I’ll have to go when they’re not around,” he reasoned. He rummaged around on his dresser and dug up a battered watch. “It’s about four in the morning now. Probably a good a time as any to get in unnoticed.”   “I’ll come with,” Buffy volunteered. Together they set off through the tunnels. As they traveled, Buffy asked, “Spike, what will you do when I’m gone?”   “No idea, pet,” Spike answered truthfully. “Not sure if the Scoobies are going to tolerate me for long without Dawn here.”   “Do you think they’ll get her back?” she asked, hopefully.   “I hope so, for Dawn’s sake,” Spike replied. “Perhaps I could call Giles and have him pretend to be a relative or something.”   “Would he come back do you think?”   “Hard to tell. He seemed to have his fill of Sunnyhell.” Spike lit a cigarette while he walked to calm his nerves. He hated to admit it, but maybe Anya was right. Maybe Dawn was safer in some anonymous foster home rather than being known as the Slayer’s sister. How could he keep her safe if the Scoobies wouldn’t even let him near the girl? He sank into a thoughtful silence that lasted for the rest of the journey to the Magic Box.   They reached the store and went upstairs. Spike pulled several likely books out from the upper shelf and spread them out on the table. Buffy wandered through the store, looking at things, occasionally wandering outside to see if anyone was around, and otherwise being rather bored. Spike flipped through the heavy tomes one after another, until he finally came to what he was looking for. Pulling out his notebook, he copied the chant meant to tie a restless spirit permanently to the realm it was in. He figured if he could send her back to Heaven, and then do the anchoring spell, she would be safe from any future problems. He reread the spell one more time, then noticed something he’d missed. “Shit.”   “What?” said Buffy, drifting over to his side.   “I need a personal object of yours to make this work,” he explained. “Hard to get when I can’t get into your house.”   Buffy thought for a moment. “Check the training room,” she said. “I must have left something in there.”   Spike tossed the books carelessly back on their shelf and followed the ghost back to the training room. It had barely been entered since Buffy died. He looked around at the stored weapons and other things, but almost nothing was really hers.   “Here!” Buffy called excitedly. Spike turned to find the strange sight of Buffy with her top half in a cabinet. “My favorite stake is in here! It’s the one Kendra gave me.”   Spike opened the cabinet and took out ‘Mr. Pointy’. He ran his thumb thoughtfully over the smooth wood. At that moment he knew the answer to Buffy’s earlier question. When he had sent her back, when he had assured her eternal happiness, Buffy’s stake would take him out of this world. It would be fitting and right, and more than he deserved. Next best thing to going out at her hand.   His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key in the outside lock. He glanced at the clock and noticed that it was six in the morning already. Anya must be coming to open early. He doused the lights and dashed out of the training room, closing the basement door behind him just in time. “That was close,” he said to Buffy. Dammit anyway. She was gone again. “Buffy, I know you’ve got to be around here somewhere. Just… come to my crypt when you can, and we’ll make this happen.” He sighed to the empty tunnel and made his way home.   Buffy, for her part, had accompanied him into the tunnel, and was as dismayed as he was that she was invisible again. She was about to follow him, when she thought she should probably see what was up in the Magic Box at this hour.   She went back upstairs to find all four Scoobies flopping exhausted into chairs. “I thought that patrol would never end,” moaned Xander.   “I can make myself look like Buffy,” sighed Willow. “But I will never in a million years be able to fight like her.”   “Do we really have to do this every night?” Anya whined. “Because if that’s the case I’m going to seriously consider relocating.”   You all seemed to be fine with me doing this by myself night after night, thought Buffy. Not so easy, is it?   “Where was bleachboy tonight?” asked Xander. “Didn’t call or anything.”   “Maybe he had a poker game,” Anya suggested.   “Maybe we should call Giles sometime,” Tara suggested. “Maybe the council could find a way to get another slayer or watcher or something here to help us.”   Willow slumped in her chair and dropped her head back, staring at the bookshelves. Then she noticed that one whole shelf was all in disarray. “Anya, were you using the dark arts books?”   Anya looked up, puzzled. “No. No one but you and Giles ever touched those.”   Willow got up and went to look at the books. They were all about controlling demons and spirits – summoning them, binding them, making them obey your will. She smelled a faint scent of cigarette smoke up here. “I think Spike was here,” she said, slightly alarmed. “It smells like cigarettes up here, and these books were clearly moved around recently.”   The others came up and looked at the shelf Willow had indicated. “What do you think he was looking for?” Tara puzzled.   “Reveliate!” spoke Willow, using a spell designed to show what the last thing was that someone had looked for in a book. The book Spike had used last flew off the shelf and landed on the floor, pages ruffling until it settled on the spell to bind a spirit to a given realm. Willow scratched her head, not sure why Spike would want such a spell. “It seems to be a spell to control a demon or spirit or something. Maybe he really thinks something is out to get him and he wants to get rid of it.”   “Could it be harmful to someone?” Anya asked.   “Not sure. I guess it depends on what he plans to use it for.”   “Hang on a minute,” Xander said. “What if this First Evil thing is tricking him into using this spell?”   “For what reason?” Tara asked.   Xander thought about it. “What if he thinks it’s Buffy tormenting him, and he thinks this can get rid of her? Could it trap the real Buffy in a hell dimension forever?”   Willow read the spell again. “I don’t know. He would need something personal of hers.”   “He probably has something in his crypt from his little stalker obsession phase,” Xander muttered.   “No, don’t you remember? He brought it all to Dawn last summer. Told her she should have it.” Tara remembered.   “I don’t know. I don’t trust him,” said Xander repeated stubbornly. “We should probably find out what he’s up to.”   “Well, he can’t really do much until nightfall,” said Anya. “I’m exhausted, and the store opens in three hours. Can we figure this out later? I need a nap and some breakfast, in that order.”   The others shared her exhaustion. “I guess we can wait until later to figure out what he’s up to,” Willow agreed reluctantly. “I’ll do a little more research on this spell and try to figure out what the results could be.” Tara and Willow left to go home. Xander and Anya lay down on the sofa in the training room for a few hours rest before opening the store.   Buffy was troubled. Could they hurt Spike out of fear? Can he protect himself from them? I need to tell him to get out of Sunnydale after this spell. He’s not going to get a break from these guys. Buffy was disappointed in her friends’ narrow-mindedness. Their fear and distrust of Spike seemed completely out of proportion to his deeds of late. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to see him and know that he was ok.   TBC

Chapter #8 - Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon’s characters. Alas. Having a bit of a computer crisis, so further chapters might take a few days!   ******************   Spike had returned to his crypt, hoping to see Buffy there already. But when he emerged from the tunnel, his room was empty. He looked around and decided that he needed to do something about this place. He planned to leave it to his friend Clem. Clem wasn’t the tidiest of demons either, but Spike had nothing better to do at present, so he might as well get rid of some of the trash. He rummaged around, found a trash bag, and started picking up whiskey bottles and broken glass. He filled the bag, found another, and filled that too. These he left just inside the tunnel to deal with later. He washed his few dishes in the sink, picked up a few scattered t-shirts and jeans, and hung up his towel. He even made his bed. In going through his papers and such he carefully set aside what he needed for the rituals. Upon thinking about it, he added a pair of leather gloves. If he was going to be handling crucifixes and holy water, he probably could use some protection. Wouldn’t do any good to dust mid-spell. He lingered over a pile of poems he had written over the years. The last several were about Buffy. His poetry had not improved much over the decades, but he felt that the Slayer was the best material he had ever had to work with. The line ‘beautiful, deadly angel’ popped out at him from one of his verses. That’s her alright. He fought back the tightness in his chest and quickly shoved all the poems and papers into the bottom drawer of his dresser. Yeah, someone will find them. But I’ll be beyond caring at that point. Maybe someone will read them. Hell, Clem’s a demon – he might even like them, lord save us all.   He surveyed the room. Definitely improved. He went upstairs and gathered the bottles up there as well. He lugged them down and was putting them next to the others when he heard a voice say, “Wow, this place cleans up well!”   He felt a profound sense of relief as he turned around and saw Buffy standing there. “You’re back!” He had a hard time keeping the pleasure out of his voice at seeing her. Every moment of her presence was a gift, and those moments were rapidly running out.   “And you’d better watch your back,” she said unhappily. “The Scoobies noticed that the books had been disturbed. They’re worried that you might be trying to damn me to hell for all time or something.”   “What?” Spike said, confused. “Why the hell would I do that?”   “Beats me,” Buffy shrugged. “But we should probably work fast so you can get out of here.”   Spike stared at her. “What do you mean?”   “I mean that you need to leave Sunnydale,” said Buffy, moving closer to him and fixing him with her green eyes. “They’re never going to believe you or trust you, and they’re going to end up dusting you. I can’t live with that. You need to promise me you’re going to go away from here when I’m gone.”   Spike was touched at her concern, but still puzzled. “What about Dawn? And patrolling?”   Buffy looked down for a second, biting her lip. “You can’t help Dawn if you’re dust, Spike. You need to get away from the Scoobies until they calm down. I know you’ll find a way to find Dawn and take care of her. And if all else fails, Dawn will survive foster care for a while. But I don’t want you to die.” Her voice quavered a bit on the last sentence.   Spike was flabbergasted. She cared about him. Not just as a tool to use, but as a person. It mattered to her whether he lived or died. I’m sorry Slayer, but I just can’t keep on like this, without you… Swallowing he said, “I promise, the Scoobies will not dust me. I won’t let that happen.” I’ll go out by my own hand, with your name on my lips and your stake in my heart.   Buffy searched his eyes, feeling there was some meaning she was missing behind his reassuring words. But all she saw was concern and devotion. “I won’t ever forget you,” she said softly.   “Nor will I forget you,” he whispered back. He lay down on his bed, and she lay next to him. They entwined their hands as before, and spent a long time just looking at each other, with nothing more to be said.   ************   Spike awoke with a start, realizing he must have dozed off at some point. He was relieved to find the ghostly form of the Slayer still beside him. “Hi,” she said quietly.   “Hey,” he responded. It was hell not to be able to touch her. He couldn’t imagine what she must be going through, being unable to interact with anything. “Are you ready to give this a go?”   “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied. She found that now that she was relatively assured of returning to heaven, she was a bit sad to be leaving. Dawn was still out there, somewhere, with no family to care for her. Even more perplexing was the fact that she had enjoyed Spike’s company, and had felt secure and safe around him. His love for her, which she had denied as impossible for so long, was real and visible. His pain at her leaving, his selfless dedication to returning her to heaven, heedless of the cost to himself – it was all real. It was as real as the beating he had suffered at Glory’s hands on her behalf. This vampire had something in him that she hadn’t seen in Angel, or Riley, or even her friends. She almost wished she had more time to explore what it was, and how she felt about him in return.   Spike had put on his boots and his duster. He had filled his pockets with the notes and the stake. “I’ll need to get some more supplies. I think the best thing to do would be to do this in a church. There’s one over on Hillcrest that has a pretty small congregation. It’s likely to be empty on a weeknight.”   “Um, isn’t this going to be a little dangerous for you?” Buffy asked, concerned.   Spike held up the gloves. “I’ll take precautions.” He grabbed a few more things and then set off through the tunnels, with Buffy beside him.   “When you disappear, you can still hear me, right?” Spike asked.   “Yes. It’s you who can’t see me.”   “Ok,” Spike said as he continued down one passage then another. “So just in case you vanish again – I’m going to set up a ring of candles. I need you to stand in the center of it. You don’t want to leave there until the ritual ends, because then it might not work.”   “Stand in the center, got it,” Buffy assured him.   “I gotta warn you, I’m a little concerned that this is going to be a big dud,” he said. “I mean, it’s an ancient Christian ritual. I’m sort of, well…”   “A demon?” Buffy finished. “Unholy, unclean thing and all that?”   “Yeah, thanks,” Spike muttered. “But I figure if some of the crooked popes and bishops over the years could get away with baptizing and blessing and all that without being struck down by lightning then I guess one vampire trying to do the right thing might slip through.”   “Do your best, Spike,” Buffy said kindly. “I know you’re trying. Just do what you can.”   Spike took a deep breath, gratified by her faith in him. He reached a ladder heading up and climbed it. He came out through a small manhole in the basement of the old church. He moved from the small utility room into a larger space – the crypt level chapel. The seating down here consisted of chairs which were easily moved to the side to create an open area. He went upstairs to the sacristy and came down with an armful of fat white candles, which he arranged in a circle. He put on the gloves and came down again with a bible, a crucifix carefully balanced on top of the bible, and a censer. One more trip and he came down with a silver container of holy water and an aspergillum to sprinkle it with. Buffy watched all this with interest.I can’t believe he would handle all this stuff for me.   Spike had to force himself to keep making the preparations. Every candle he lit was like a dagger in his heart. He carefully sprinkled the ground with the holy water, hissing as some dripped down the handle and landed on his wrist below the glove. He placed it on a small table that he had set up to hold all the things he would need. He placed Buffy’s stake next to it for the second ritual.   Buffy’s eyes widened when she saw him linger over the stake for a moment before moving on to something else. He’s not… he wouldn’t kill himself, would he? She stood in the center of the circle, suddenly wondering if all this was the right thing to do.   *********   The four Scoobies had had a long day, given their lack of sleep. But they all seemed to get a second wind toward the end of the day, and had reconvened at the Magic Box to figure out what they should do about Spike.   “I’ve been rereading the spell,” Willow began. “I’m worried that Xander is on to something. If he does this ritual Buffy could never escape the hell dimension she’s in.”   “How can she escape it now?” Anya asked. “I mean, your resurrection spell failed. She’s stuck there either way, isn’t she?”   “Well, we might be able to find some way to make sure she goes to heaven or something,” explained Tara. “But if Spike does this spell, even if he’s being tricked into it, she may be suffering for eternity with no hope.”   “We’ve got to find him,” said Xander. “Can’t you guys do a locator spell?”   Willow nodded. “Good idea. I think we need to go and confront him once and for all.”   Tara and Willow got out the necessary materials and began the spell. The enchanted map revealed Spike’s location to be…”A church? He’s in a church?” Willow questioned.   “Could he be doing the spell already?” Tara asked.   “Let’s go find out,” said Xander, decisively. He led the way to the car with Anya bringing up the rear and locking the door.   ************   At last, everything was ready for the ritual. Spike had walked around the circle three times waving the incense to purify the space. Buffy stood in the middle, arms wrapped around herself, slightly nervous about what was to come. Spike looked long and deeply into her eyes. Then he shook himself and said, “Ready, Buffy?”   Buffy nodded. “Thank you, so much. I don’t have the words to thank you for this.”   Spike fought against tears. “I love you, Buffy. Remember that.”   “I know,” she responded quietly.   He picked up the holy water and walked around the circle again, chanting in Latin. The words were a bit strange, given the age of the source. But he knew the general meaning well enough from his university days. “You have run the good race, you have fought the good fight. Go now to the place the angels have prepared for you.” He picked up the crucifix and held it high, gritting his teeth as the holy wood singed his skin, even through the glove. “Requiem in aeternum…” The Latin text went on as he circled, chanting.   After a time, a glow started to coalesce around Buffy. She slowly started to feel warm again. That blissful sea of warmth. She closed her eyes and spread her hands at her sides, feeling sensation after these days of nothingness. Bliss. Peace. Rest. She stood there, feeling the sensation get stronger and stronger, waiting for that final moment where time would fall away.   Spike was now chanting with tears running down his face as he saw her take on that beautiful, holy glow. So beautiful. Oh God, Slayer, don’t leave me. I love you…   The perfect moment was shattered at that point by the door slamming open and the Scoobies rushing down from the upper church. Xander took in the candles and the obvious ritual accoutrements, and the glow of white light, but saw nothing of the figure within the light. Without stopping, Xander charged through the circle, scattering candles and tackling Spike. They knocked into the table and the container of holy water spilled, hitting Spike full in the face. Spike screamed and vamped out as the entire left side of his face erupted into a steaming, blistering mass. As he rolled to get away from Xander he ended up on top of the crucifix, which began smoldering its way through his jeans. He tried shoving Xander off of him, making his chip fire unmercifully, causing him more agony. Willow started chanting some spell and Spike found himself frozen, unable to move. His left eye was blind, seared by the holy water. Tears ran down his face from his good eye as Xander knelt on top of him, pinning his arms and reaching for Buffy’s stake. I failed her again, oh God, again, Buffy I’m so sorry… He watched Xander rear back for the killing blow with a sense of utter despair in his heart.   Buffy had opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening. Am I going? What’s that sound? Then she saw with horror that Xander was on top of Spike. She heard his scream as he burned, and saw Xander reaching for the stake. Suddenly she realized that she couldn’t leave him. Heaven would give her no rest if she allowed this good man to suffer and die for her sake. Clinging for just one more second to the promised warmth of heaven, she stepped out of the circle and screamed “STOP!”   Xander’s arm paused at the top of its arc. He turned toward the sound, as did the others. It was Buffy, coming toward them from the center of the circle of candles. “Buffy?” he asked, disbelieving.   “Get the hell off of him!” Buffy yelled. Xander stood, confused as Buffy ran through him to kneel at Spike’s side. “Spike! It’s me. Stay with me, ok?”   “Failed…” he whispered. “Sorry…” Then he mercifully passed out from the pain.   “Spike!” she cried frantically. But the vampire did not respond. Buffy rose and turned to the others. “Why? Why did you do that?” she demanded.   “B..Buffy you’re… here,” stammered Tara.   “Yes, and I still want to know why you just attacked Spike?”   “But… he was trying to trap you in hell!” Willow said, utterly confounded.   “He was trying to send me back to Heaven, you idiots!” Buffy screamed. “He was doing a ritual to let me go back to being at peace, and you guys fucked it up!”   “Heaven?” Willow sputtered. “You were in Heaven? But how come you’re a ghost?”   “I don’t know!” Buffy yelled. “I was at peace. I was finished with all this. Then wham, I’m standing on my grave, and you guys were there and didn’t see me, and then these demon guys came through and you ran…”   “The spell,” Tara breathed, realizing what had happened.   “What spell?” Buffy cried, exasperated. “You guys have been referring to some spell since I got back. What the hell did you do?”   Willow spoke up in a shaky voice, “We, um, we tried to resurrect you.”   Buffy stopped cold. “You did this to me?” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “This hell of not being able to feel anything, of watching my sister suffer and not being able to do anything about it – that was all your doing?”   “Buffy, we thought you were in some hell dimension,” Willow began. “We were trying to rescue you…”   “Rescue me?” Buffy couldn’t believe these fools. “I died to save the freaking world. Why in the name of all that is holy would you think I was in hell?” The Scoobies all looked away. They hadn’t thought of it at all.   “We’ll talk about this later,” Buffy said, taking charge. “Right now, you are going to pick up Spike and bring him back to my house. Then you are going to figure out how to make me a person again.”   “What?” asked Xander. “What about Heaven?”   “Heaven’s going to have to wait until I sort some things out down here,” Buffy said decisively. “I remember what Heaven felt like. I will hold onto that feeling until the day I die. But there is a man right here…” she indicated Spike, “Who loves me, so completely and unselfishly, that he would send me back to Heaven rather than keep me here to suffer just to ease his own pain. And you are going to help me heal him, because I need him.”   The Scoobies had nothing to say to that. Xander and the others lifted Spike and struggled up the stairs and out to Xander’s car. Buffy wept to see the ruin of his face. Please let him be ok. Please let him heal. I need him to know that he didn’t fail me this time.     TBC

Chapter #9 - Chapter 9

Disclaimer: All the characters are Joss Whedon’s Thanks to all the amazing BSV reviewers for inspiring me to keep working on this, despite a week of laptop hell!   **************   Spike remained unconscious as the Scoobies brought him into Buffy’s house. Willow apparently was enough of a resident now for her invitation to allow Spike in. “Take him to my room,” Buffy ordered. They all looked at each other in confusion, but did as she asked. They laid him out on the bed, with him looking every bit the corpse he was. Buffy winced at the sight of his beautiful face all blackened and scarred. She passed her hand through his cheek, desperately wishing she could comfort him.   She spun to face her friends, who were still completely bewildered at the turn of events. “I need my body back. What are you going to do about it?” she demanded.   Everyone looked at Willow. She cleared her throat and said, “We’re going to need some of the texts from the Magic Box. I need to look at what could have happened when we did the spell.”   “Fine,” Buffy said shortly. “Do that. Xander and Anya – you need to go get Spike some blood. He’s going to need it when he comes to.” They all hesitated, still unsure. “Well what are you waiting for?” yelled Buffy. “You made this mess! Now get busy cleaning it up!”   The others left to go about their errands. Buffy sat down next to the bed. “Spike. I don’t know if you can hear me. But I need you. Please come back to me. Don’t leave me here alone…” The vampire lay unmoving, heedless of her desperate plea. She sank her ghostly hand into his and did her best to stay calm while she waited for the others to return.   Xander and Anya returned first, and came up with a mug of blood for Spike. Anya managed to coax a small amount into him, but he was still mostly out of it. “Try again later,” Buffy said quietly.   “Buffy… “ Xander began uncertainly.   “What?” she snapped.   “We… we didn’t know this would happen. We just… we missed you.”   “I know, Xander,” said Buffy, attempting to stay calm. “But Spike was trying to help, and you treated him like garbage. You ignored him and put him down until you needed him, and then expected him to jump to attention.”   “But we didn’t know it was really you…” Xander tried to explain.   “You didn’t give him even half a chance to explain!” Buffy retorted. “I was there, Xander. He tried to tell you. Multiple times. And all you did was accuse him of being drunk, insane, or under the influence of the First. If he didn’t care about me, why the hell would he have stayed around here taking crap from you guys all summer?”   “I’m so sorry…”   “Really don’t want to hear it, Xander,” said Buffy, cutting him off. “Right now, we’ve got to help Spike and get me back to solid form so I can get my sister back.” She turned back to look at Spike, trying to see if the small amount of blood they managed to get into him was having any effect.   The awkward silence was broken by the sound of Willow and Tara returning. Tara came upstairs and said, “We think we know a way to do it. Can you come downstairs?”   “Be right there,” said Buffy. She turned, and best as she could, pressed her lips to Spike’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” she whispered. Then she drifted through the door and down the stairs.   Willow and Tara were busy casting a circle and lighting candles. Buffy was not altogether sure she wanted Willow doing magic on her again, after what had happened last time. But she needed her body back. She still longed for heaven. She probably always would. But she had work to do here. Spike and Dawn needed her, and she needed them. She somehow knew that heaven would not be the same if she turned her back on them now.   “Do I need to stand anywhere in particular?” Buffy asked.   “Just inside the circle is fine,” said Tara. She and Willow sat cross legged and joined hands. They began chanting, the sing-song rhythm filling the room again and again. Then after long minutes, Willow’s eyes went black and she said in a deep voice, “Solid.”   Buffy jerked as if electrocuted. A flood of sensation overwhelmed her senses. Sounds, light, heat – everything rushed back in an incredible wave. She fell to the floor and curled up in a ball trying to shut out the pain of all her nerve endings firing at once. She screamed as her body took form, lungs expanding, heart beating. This was nothing of the blissful gentle warmth she remembered. This was hard and cold and loud and it was excruciating.   The rush of power around Willow and Tara subsided as the spell concluded. Buffy’s wails of pain died down to gasps as she lay there shuddering. The others were stunned into silence for a long minute. Then Xander walked over and crouched down next to her tormented form. Tentatively he reached out to her shoulder saying, “Buffy? Are… are you…?”   “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, flinching away from his touch. Xander flinched back as well, shocked by the violence of her reaction. She sat up, still in a defensive posture, looking pale and disheveled in her black burial dress. “It hurts…” She wrapped her arms around herself protectively.   “What hurts Buffy?” Tara asked gently, wanting to somehow soothe the distressed Slayer.   “Everything,” Buffy replied, gritting her teeth. “It’s all too loud, too much…“ They wanted to work this spell on me when I was in my coffin? My god, what if I had come to in there! She shuddered anew at the thought of waking up buried alive.   “It’s ok, Buffy,” said Willow. “You’re back.”   Buffy shot a look of pure rage at Willow, and the red-haired witch found herself frightened of what she saw. “You have no idea what you did to me, what you made me suffer.” Buffy slowly, unsteadily, hauled herself to her feet. “If you ever even think of putting a spell on me or anyone I care about again, I will kill you with my bare hands.” The cold tone of her voice left no doubt that she meant every word.   Gaining strength with every step, she pushed past them and made her way to the kitchen. She returned with a knife and started climbing the stairs without another word. The others looked around in alarm. “Buffy? What are you doing?” Xander asked. When they got no answer they raced up after her, worried that she was going to do something to hurt herself.   They found her sitting on the bed next to Spike, in the process of slashing her arm. “Buffy, No!” cried Willow. “He’s hurt, he’ll kill you!”   “Get back!” ordered Buffy. She held her bleeding arm up to Spike’s lips as she slid her other arm underneath him to hold him up. “Drink, Spike. You need this. Come on, Spike.” She searched his face anxiously for a sign of consciousness.   Spike’s demon woke up first. Slayer blood… He vamped out instinctively and locked on to her wrist, taking long deep pulls of the rich fluid. The Scoobies were horrified at the sight. “Get off her!” Xander cried, searching around frantically for some sort of weapon.   “What part of get back do you NOT understand?” Buffy growled. The sound of her voice penetrated Spike’s mind. Buffy? With a massive effort he wrestled to overcome his demon. Gasping, he released her arm, sealed the wound with his tongue, and fell back, his human visage slipping back into place around the scars and tortured flesh.   “Buffy?” he whispered. “You’re…”   “I’m me again, Spike,” she soothed. “Just relax.”   “So sorry, love,” he mumbled. “I tried…”   “Shh,” she said, gently slipping her arm out from underneath him. “You didn’t fail me.” She placed a soft kiss on his forehead and stood up, facing the Scoobies.   “You four, on the other hand, have failed me big time.” Her green eyes blazed with unconcealed anger.   “We never wanted to hurt you…” Willow began.   Buffy cut her off. “Save it. I want the four of you out of my house. Now. Leave your keys. I’ll let you know when you can come get the rest of your stuff.” The others stepped back a bit from her intense glare. “And I repeat – if you do ANY magic directed at me, Spike, or Dawn without our express knowledge and permission, you will regret the day you were born.”   Xander sputtered, “So the bloodsucker gets to stay, and we have to leave? He could drain you! I don’t think his chip is working on you!”   Buffy had her hands on Xander’s lapels and had him shoved against the wall before he could blink. “The ‘bloodsucker’ didn’t drain me just now, did he? The ‘bloodsucker’ loves me enough that he tried to send me back to heaven, rather than keeping me to himself. Could you have done that Xander? If I had come to you, could you have sent me back, knowing I would be gone for good?” She released him and looked around at the rest of them. “You guys patrol one night by yourselves and you’re exhausted. There were two of you in the house and you couldn’t keep track of Dawn and keep her from getting taken away. What would you have done if your spell had worked, Willow? What if I had woken up in my fucking coffin?” Willow blanched at that thought – they had not even considered that possibility at all. “What if I came back all feral like Angel had? Would you guys have helped? Or would it be all ‘Yay, Buffy’s back, have fun slaying, and oh yeah, the mortgage is due’?” The others looked at the ground. They really hadn’t thought it through, in retrospect. They just sort of assumed that Buffy would return, and everything would be the way it was.   “Someday, I may be willing to discuss this with you. But until you hear otherwise, get out of my house, and stay the hell away from me, Dawn, and Spike. Are we clear?” Buffy demanded.   The others nodded. Willow and Tara quietly took their keys out of their pockets and handed them to Buffy. Then they all filed down the stairs and out the door. Buffy followed them and locked the doors behind them.   Spike had listened to this entire exchange with amazement. He was certain that the pain was making him hallucinate. There was no way that Buffy just kicked the Scoobies out and threatened them on his behalf. That was completely inconceivable. He lay there with his eyes closed, feeling the powerful Slayer blood start to work on the worst of his injuries, and waited to wake up from what must be a dream.   *****************   Buffy turned after locking the kitchen door and sank into a chair for a moment. She felt utterly drained. She knew some of it was from the blood loss. But the vast majority of her weariness was emotional. The immediate shock of coming back to life had faded for the most part, but the fear that had come with it had singed her nerves raw. Everything was still so loud. Even the ticking of the kitchen clock seemed painfully loud. The chair beneath her was painful to her over sensitized skin and muscles. Her brain was already swirling with problems that needed solving, all related to getting Dawn out of foster care and back home.   And then there was Spike. Spike who had done everything in his power to help her, and who was now lying in her bed, semiconscious and in as much pain as she was. She was going to have to figure out how she felt about him, at some point. Right now, she needed him better. She knew she was not going to be able to get Dawn back alone, and she needed some support.   Buffy rose and got more blood from the fridge. She heated up a mug of it and slowly climbed back upstairs. He reminded her of the Phantom of the Opera somehow – one side of his face still white and fair, the other side black, twisted, and scarred. What if that doesn’t heal? she worried. Are holy water burns permanent? She closed the drapes, then moved over to the open side of the bed and climbed up next to him.   He stirred and turned toward her, half opening his good eye. “Where am I?” he asked.   “You’re in my bedroom,” Buffy answered. She helped him sit up somewhat and held the mug of blood for him. He swallowed it greedily, then lay back down.   “What happened?” Spike wondered. He still couldn’t quite decide if this was reality or not, because Buffy seemed awfully human all of a sudden, and he was not sure when that happened.   “Xander was going to dust you,” she explained. “I stepped out of the circle and they were finally able to see and hear me. I made them bring you back here, and got Willow to make me solid again. Then I told them all to get the hell out.”   “Why?” Spike whispered. “You were on your way back to Heaven, I know it.”   “I couldn’t let them kill you,” Buffy explained. She took Spike’s hand in hers and stroked it with her thumb as she spoke. “In the end, I couldn’t leave Dawn, and I couldn’t let them kill you when all you had done was help. This… all this was their doing.”   “What?” Spike gasped.   “They tried to do some sort of resurrection spell on me. That’s how I got yanked out of Heaven,” Buffy explained, bitterly. Then she continued, more gently, “You risked everything for me, Spike. That means something. Not sure what yet, but I need you here to figure this out.”   “You took a risk, giving me your blood,” he admonished. “I could have drained you; I was so out of it.”   She gently stroked his hand again. “You did so much for me. It was the least I could do. I knew you wouldn’t drain me. I just knew.”   “What will you do now?” Spike asked, afraid to hear the answer. She had thrown all her friends out in a rage. He wasn’t sure where he stood, but he had never really had ‘friend’ status with her before, and felt on unfamiliar ground.   “Immediately? I’m going to rest. It… hurts. Being alive again. The spell…” She shuddered a bit at the memory. “It hurt, a lot,” she concluded. Then she added, “The rest, we’ll figure out. But I just want you to know – you can stay here, as long as you want. I could use your support.”   “I’ll stay as long as you need, pet,” Spike answered gently.   Buffy looked down at herself, realizing she was still in her burial dress. “I swear, I’m going to burn this thing. Be right back.” She rummaged through her dresser and came up with some sweats and a tank top. She disappeared into the bathroom to change. Looking at herself in the mirror, she hardly recognized the reflection. She was pale, not her usual California tanned self. Her eyes were too wide for her face somehow, and she looked thin and tired. Feel like I’ve been to hell and back, not the other way around.   Buffy came back to the room to find that Spike had dozed off again. She stretched out on the bed next to Spike and rolled on her side facing him. She hesitated a moment, then rested her hand on his chest. He woke up, momentarily startled. Then he covered her hand with his own and gave a deep sigh of contentment. Heaven, he thought. Who needs it? For a long while he almost completely forgot about the pain of his burned face and just basked in the warmth of his Slayer’s hand on his chest.   TBC

Chapter #10 - Chapter 10

Disclaimer: The characters are Joss Whedon’s. Keep them reviews coming! ****************************   Spike woke first the next morning, feeling somewhat better. He noted with some dismay that he was still blind in his right eye, and his face still felt like the surface of the moon. But the pain was greatly reduced, and the burns from the crucifix seemed to have more or less vanished.   Buffy stirred next to him and sat up, stretching and pushing her hair out of her face. “Morning,” she said, yawning.   “Morning,” Spike replied, sitting up. “Feeling any better?”   “I’m still a little shaky,” she replied. “I never noticed how loud the world is. The birds outside sound like they’re screaming. The physical pain is a bit better though. How about you?” She noticed that his face, while still marred, was less raw and blackened than the night before.   “Well, still can’t see out of this side, but the pain is less for me as well,” he answered. “I guess we’re about on the same page in all this.”   “Do you need more blood to heal?” she asked. “I don’t mind sharing.”   Spike shook his head. “Maybe later. Right now, I believe you haven’t eaten in, what, 5 months?” She smiled a bit at that. “Won’t even consider your offer until you’ve had a couple of good meals.”   “Then come on downstairs. Because now that you mention it, I’m starving.”   They made their way down to the kitchen. Buffy found there was still some blood in the fridge for Spike, but apparently shopping for human food still hadn’t happened. She rummaged around and found a box of pop-tarts to call breakfast. She made some coffee to go with it, while Spike heated up his breakfast. They sat down together at the counter, both ravenous and both inclined to silence for the moment.   After having worked her way through an entire box of pop-tarts Buffy poured coffee for both of them. “Spike?”   “Yes, love?”   Buffy hesitated a moment, “Your face… your eye… it’ll heal eventually, right?” She didn’t want to think about him being permanently disfigured as a result of trying to help her.   Spike shrugged, as if it were of no consequence. “Think so. I’ve had holy water burns before. They take a while, but they’ve healed in the past. This one is worse than most, might take longer. Until then, I’ll hire myself out for horror movies I guess.”   “It’s not that bad,” Buffy reassured him. “Looks pretty painful though.”   “Won’t deny that,” he agreed. They drank their coffee in silence for a while longer. This time it was Spike who broke the silence. “So what are you going to do now?”   Buffy thought about it for a moment. “I need to go down to Social Services and figure out what exactly I need to do to get Dawn back. I need to see her.”   “How are you going to explain your sudden reappearance to the Nibblet?”   “Best I can.” That was going to be a challenge. “Do you have any plans?”   “None in particular. I suppose I should head back to the crypt.”   Buffy hesitated for a moment. “Spike… you can stay here for a while, if you want.” Spike’s eyes got wide in amazement – she wanted him to stay? Buffy mistook his wide eyes and quickly added, “You don’t have to of course. You’ve done so much for me and I know you have a life of your own and…”   “Slayer,” Spike interrupted her nervous stream of words. “As I said before - I’ll stay as long as you let me. I just don’t want you to feel you owe me anything. I did what I did because I wanted to, not because you made me do it or anything else. You don’t owe me a thing.”   “Then please stay,” she whispered. “I’m… I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t trust anyone else right now.”   Spike leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’m here for you, Slayer. Always.”   Buffy cupped the uninjured side of his face and planted a gentle kiss on his lips in return. “Thank you, Spike.” They looked into each other’s eyes for a few more minutes, then awkwardly dropped their hands, not entirely sure what had just happened.   “I’m, um, going to call Social Services,” Buffy said at last. “Can you see if there are any empty boxes in the basement? I want to pack up the witches’ things and get them out of here.”   “Sure thing, pet.”   Buffy looked for the number of the Social Services office and made an appointment to meet with Ms. Davis at eleven o’clock. Then she went upstairs and took a very long hot shower. She found some suitably conservative clothes and put her hair up. She went out into the hall to find Spike bringing up the last of the empty boxes he had found. “I’m off to face the Social Services demons,” she said. “Feel free to help yourself to anything you need.”   “Best of luck, Slayer,” he said warmly. She gave a faint smile, and turned to go. Spike decided it was definitely his turn in the shower. He found that he had to keep the spray off his burned face, as it was still tender, but the rest of him was healing rather nicely. He closed his eyes and remembered the touch of her lips on his. My God, she’s amazing. A small corner of his psyche hoped against hope that something more than this friendship they had would develop. Thinking of her hair, her scent, aroused him painfully. He stroked himself, thinking about what she must feel like, the curves of her naked body. He closed his eyes and continued watching the movie in his mind, stroking faster until he came with a sigh. You’ve got it bad, William. Just going to get your heart broken in the end. But then he thought,ah sod it. Even if I haven’t a chance in hell, dreaming won’t hurt anyone.   ***********************   Buffy found herself nearly having an attack of agoraphobia upon entering the Social Services building. Her mind started screaming, too much, too many people, too bright, hurts… She dashed into the bathroom off the lobby and closed herself in the stall, leaning her head against the wall and taking deep breaths until she calmed down. She took one more deep breath, then left the restroom and went up to the reception desk to ask for Ms. Davis.   The matronly lady came up to Buffy after a few minutes and extended her hand. “Good to see you again Ms. Summers. Come into my office.” Buffy rose to follow her.   When they got settled, Buffy asked, “How is Dawn? Can I see her? Is she ok?” The anxiety she felt about her sister was evident in her voice.   “Dawn is currently in a group home with several other girls her age,” said Ms. Davis. “I can arrange a meeting between you here tomorrow, if you like.”   “Please do,” said Buffy. “I need to see her. I need to talk to her.”   “Tomorrow at…” she flipped through her appointment book, “One o’clock?”   “Yes, perfect,” Buffy replied. “What do I have to do to get her back home?”   “First, you need to take a mandatory series of 5 classes on parenting skills. I will give you the possible times for those when you leave today. You need to have your home inspected again, and you need to make sure there are no unauthorized adults living in the home.”   “That’s been dealt with already,” Buffy spoke up. “My housemates are gone as of today.” And woe unto them if they get anywhere near me for at least a month.   “Good,” said Ms. Davis, smiling. “You will also need to give us a report of your financial status – your income, debts, and show that you have sufficient means of support for you and your sister.”   Buffy’s heart sank. What means of support? I don’t even know what my bills are, how much money we have. Hiding her sudden anxiety, she replied, “Yes. Of course.”   “Here is a list of the times and locations of the parenting classes and how to sign up,” said Ms. Davis, handing Buffy a sheet of paper. “I’ll look forward to seeing you here tomorrow at one.” Ms. Davis shook Buffy’s hand and ushered her out.   Buffy kept it together until she got out of the building. Then she started shaking as she walked unsteadily back home. Where is the money going to come from? How can I do this? She walked blindly back to Revello Drive, fighting tears and panic the whole way.   ******************   After his shower, Spike had busied himself packing things up in the witches’ room. He didn’t know what to do about their personal effects, but the books were straightforward enough. He finished filling the second box when the phone rang. He thought about picking it up, but decided instead to let the machine handle it. After Dawn’s recorded voice said, “Leave a message at the beep!” Spike heard a slight pause, and then “Buffy? It’s Giles… Willow told me you were back, somehow. I… can you call me when you get this?” I see. Wonder what Willow told him. Wonder if she mentioned that this whole mess is her fault. Spike frowned. He didn’t think Buffy was going to relish explaining all this to her Watcher.   Spike had finished another box of books and was starting in on magical odds and ends when Buffy came home. “Spike?” she called. Her voice sounded a little shaky to his ears.   “Up here,” Spike called. Buffy came in, looking out of breath. Spike was instantly concerned. “You ok, Slayer?”   “Yeah,” Buffy responded, sitting down on the bed. “Had a bit of a panic attack on the way home. Not something I’m really used to.”   Spike stopped what he was doing and sat down so that his good eye was facing her. He rubbed her back gently and said, “Tell me.”   Buffy relaxed into the feeling of that gentle stroking. “I need to go take parenting classes, which is no big deal. But I need to prove I can support us! I don’t know what kind of money we have, or what the bills are, or how I’m going to get a job or any of that!” She was starting to panic again.   “Shh, love,” Spike wrapped his arms around her and cradled her to his chest. “You don’t have to worry about that this second, ok? We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”   Buffy buried her head in his shirt and nodded. It felt good to have something solid to hold on to. She sat up after a few moments and smiled faintly. “Thanks.”   “No problem,” he said, running his hand lightly through her hair. “What say we get the rest of this stuff packed up, hmm?”   Buffy nodded, and together they spent the next 45 minutes or so putting all of Willow and Tara’s things in the boxes and lugging them downstairs. Buffy put them on the back porch and then went to call them to tell them to come get their stuff. It was then she noticed the blinking message light. She listened to Giles’ message with a growing feeling of annoyance. “They had to go running off to tell Giles right away, didn’t they,” she muttered as Spike came into the room. “Couldn’t let me just adjust for a few days or anything.”   “Don’t have to call him if you don’t want to, pet,” Spike said reassuringly.   Buffy sighed. “Might as well get it over with. If I don’t call him he’ll probably freak out and fly over here and I really don’t need another person to deal with right now.” She looked up his number on the bulletin board near the phone. “Can you… can you just stay here? I may need some moral support.”   “I think I’m better at the immoral support,” Spike quipped. “But I’ll stay anyway.”   Buffy took a deep breath and dialed the number. Giles answered on the third ring. “Hello?”   “Giles, it’s Buffy.”   “Buffy!” Giles exclaimed, the relief and amazement evident in his voice. “So it’s true. You’re back.”   “Guess so,” Buffy replied. This is probably the most awkward conversation of my life. “What… what have you heard?”   “Willow said that you came back as some sort of spirit, and that she and Tara were able to make you solid again. They said something about Spike helping you along the way, and that Dawn had been taken away. Buffy, I’d like to hear your version of the tale.”   “My version? Willow, Tara, Anya and Xander tried to resurrect me. Their spell didn’t work – that’s how I got to be a ghost.”   “Good lord,” said Giles. “Willow glossed over that a bit.”   “Not surprised,” Buffy grumbled. “Only Spike and other vampires could see me, and even then not all the time. Spike was trying to send me back to Heaven when the others interrupted his ritual, burned half his face off with holy water, and almost staked him.”   “Heaven?” Giles interjected. “Willow’s spell actually pulled you out of Heaven?”   “Yeah, and let me tell you, I’m really, really not pleased with her and the others right now. Coming back was… horrible.”   “But now you’re… yourself again?”   “After they burned Spike I got them to see me. I got Willow and Tara to make me solid after they brought Spike back to my place.”   “Spike is at your house?” Giles sounded worried.   “Don’t even start with the ‘he’s a vampire’ crap, Giles,” Buffy cut in. “I don’t give a damn what he is. He was the only one who could help me. He tried to get them to help Dawn, but they were too busy screwing around with magic to notice that she, oh, wasn’t going to school. He cares about me Giles. But he was willing to give me up so I could go back to Heaven. None of the rest would have done that, and you know it.”   Giles said nothing for a moment. Then with a sigh he said, “I don’t know what they, or I would have done, Buffy. But I’m glad you are back.”   “Well, I’m glad you’re glad. Not entirely sure how I feel about it yet.”   “What do you mean?” said Giles in a concerned voice.   “I mean that it was painful to come back here, Giles. I have to jump through all these hoops to get Dawn back, and everything just seems too much right now. Spike is helping me cope, but it is really, really hard.”   “Buffy, do you want me to come back? I could help you get back on your feet so you won’t have to rely on Spike.”   “No, Giles,” Buffy said. “No offense, but I just don’t want to deal with you right now. You left, Giles. You left Dawn in the care of two preoccupied witches, and Xander and Anya, who are much more concerned with each other and the Magic Box than a teenager’s needs. You trusted Spike to patrol and babysit all summer. I think you can trust him not to murder me in my sleep. Besides, I trust him, and that’s all that matters.”   Spike could not believe what he was hearing. His jaw was dangling open and he seemed to have a hard time regaining control of it. She trusts me? She would rather have me than her watcher? Has the world gone completely crackers?   Giles sounded a bit taken aback when he finally spoke again. “Buffy, I… I didn’t leave Dawn lightly. I just…”   “Couldn’t deal,” Buffy finished his sentence. “Yeah, I know. But right now, I’m hanging on by a thread, Giles. I just… need some time.”   “I understand, Buffy,” Giles said, sounding a little hurt. “You’ll call if you need anything?”   “Sure, Giles. We’ll talk soon. Bye.” Buffy hung up the phone. She shuddered a bit with the emotional overload.   “You ok, pet?” Spike asked, softly.   “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Could you call Tara and ask her to come get their boxes, while I go change?”   “Sure,” Spike agreed, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to the witches either. Buffy shot him a grateful look and left the room. Spike took a deep breath and dialed Tara’s number.   “Hello?” Tara answered.   “It’s Spike,” he said, awkwardly. “We boxed up all your things. They’re on the back porch. Buffy asked me to tell you to come and get them.”   “Spike,” Tara said with sadness in her voice. “I’m so sorry about what happened. Willow kept a lot of the details from us. If I had known, I would never have let her try it.”   “Glinda, you’re a good person. You need to keep Willow grounded, yeah? She’s getting out of control. You need to get her to rein it in before she hurts someone else.”   “Do you… do you think Buffy will ever forgive us?” Tara asked with a shaky voice.   Spike sighed, “I dunno. What Willow did to her… she’s in pain, Tara. Emotional, physical, mental. She’s gonna need a lot of time. Just give her that, ok?”   “I understand,” Tara said, and Spike could hear that she did actually get it. Maybe she could somehow get through to the others. “We’ll come over in a little bit to get the stuff.”   “Thanks,” said Spike, and he hung up.   Buffy returned, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a purse. “I need to get some groceries. Anything you need other than more blood?”   “Don’t think so. Thanks, though.”   “I just hope my bank account isn’t totally empty,” Buffy lamented. “Haven’t really had time to look at that stuff.”   “Do you want me to try to straighten some of that out at all?” Spike asked. He realized he wasn’t sure if Buffy would be offended at the implication that she couldn’t handle her own finances.   “Do you mind?” she asked. “I hate to be all ‘stereotypical clueless blonde’, but I could really use some help sorting out the mess Tara and Willow made of the finances.”   “I’m on it,” Spike said.   “Thanks. Be back soon,” she responded. Then she turned and left.   Spike grabbed the remaining blood out of the fridge and nuked it, then sat down at the table with a mug of blood and the pile of bills and statements. He was no financial expert, but the girl was in trouble. The mortgage had been paid, but the utilities were all behind, and Buffy’s credit card had clearly been stretched to the maximum in order to make ends meet. For Christ’s sake, didn’t the witches contribute anything of their own? Freeloaders, all of them. Buffy’s bank account showed a large infusion after Joyce’s death – he assumed insurance money – but was now down to about $500. He totaled up the bills and boggled a bit at the number. No way she’s going to be able to pay that back any time soon. Dawn’ll be married with grandkids before she gets this all paid off.   Spike sat back and thought about it for a while. Then slowly, an idea formed in his head. I wonder if that’s still there. Dru wouldn’t have gone back for it on her own, I’m sure of it. He smiled, wincing a bit at the pain in his face. He might just be able to help her out.   TBC

Chapter #11 - Chapter 11

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon and his ilk. Thanks again reviewers! Enjoy.   ******************   Buffy turned her mom’s car back into the driveway. She had managed by careful shopping to get a fair amount of food for a minimum amount of money. She had done her best to make sure it was healthy stuff for the most part. Make the social services people happy if they inspect, even if Dawn won’t touch a vegetable with a ten foot pole. As she got the bags out she noticed that Xander’s car was on the street. As she slammed the car door, Willow and Xander came around the corner of the house, carrying boxes. They stopped when they saw Buffy.   “Hi,” said Willow awkwardly. “We… um, came to get our stuff.”   “Great,” Buffy said shortly. “Have at it then.” With that she brushed by them and went in the house. Willow bit her lip, trying to keep back the hurt tears that threatened to spill down her face.   Xander was hurt as well, but he also found himself a bit annoyed. “Don’t know why she can’t at least talk to us,” he mumbled as they put things in the car. Tara came up with a box as well, catching Xander as he said, “I know she didn’t want to be back here, but she could at least give us a chance to make things up to her.”   Tara put down her box and said as gently as she could, “Xander, she’s hurting. Spike told me she’s in physical pain from what we did. She’s angry, she’s worried about Dawn, and she’s dealing with being yanked out of Heaven. She just needs time and space. We can’t expect her to get over everything in a day.”   “I wish she’d let me help her,” Willow said. “There are spells that can help with this sort of thing.”   “No!” Tara said sharply. “You’ve got to stop thinking that way. You can’t do an instant fix with this, Willow. If you try to fix her all you’ll do is drive her away for good. Just give her time, ok baby?”   Willow was torn between wanting to help Buffy and trying to listen to Tara’s advice. She sighed, “I guess I need to step back for a while.” But I know I could help, if she’d just let me…   Tara wasn’t sure she trusted Willow’s statement. She knew Willow was coming from a genuine love for her friend, but she placed far too much faith in magic. Tara silently vowed to keep extra close tabs on her girlfriend for the immediate future.   The three of them continued hauling the rest of the boxes. Buffy and Spike were in the kitchen putting groceries away, keeping an eye out to see when the Scoobies left. Spike was finding things rather awkward with only one eye. In place of his usual preternatural grace, he found he was bumping into Buffy, misjudging exactly where the shelves were, and whacking his elbows on things. He growled a bit the last time this happened, and noticed Xander looking in the window at him simultaneously. His good eye flashed yellow briefly. Fucking git. This is all your fault. Had to go barging in like a goddamn fullback instead of getting the whole story.   Buffy noticed Spike’s irritation and asked, “What’s wrong?”   “Just irritated,” Spike muttered. “This lack of depth perception is annoying as all get out.”   “I’m sure having Xander gawking at you isn’t helping either,” Buffy noted. She scowled at Xander as well as he came back for the last box. Xander ducked his head and hurried to the car, deciding that having two supernatural beings pissed at him was probably a sign to leave. Buffy put the last of the cereal away, then started cutting up some vegetables to make a salad for herself for dinner. Spike poured himself another mug of blood and drank it, watching her. By the time she finished her dinner, mostly in thoughtful silence, it was dark. Spike put his mug in the sink and said, “I need to make a quick run to my crypt. Will you be ok for a while?”   “I should probably patrol,” said Buffy. “I’ll walk with you.” She didn't want to admit that she still really hated being alone. She found herself enjoying the security she felt in Spike's presence. Giles would probably freak if he found me depending on a vampire. Too bad.    “You could probably take a night off if you wanted to, you know,” Spike chided. “The vampires wouldn’t mind.”   “Nah, gotta keep you vamps in line,” Buffy responded. Spike was pleased to see her cracking a joke, even if it was a small one.   They walked through the town, seeing very little activity. A few fledges rose and were rapidly dispatched by Buffy, who did not seem to have lost any of her skills during her sojourn in the afterlife. Spike tried to join in, but had a difficult time judging punches, and after one fledge got him square in his wounded eye, making him howl with pain, he reluctantly stepped back and let Buffy handle it.   When they got to Spike’s crypt, he told Buffy, “I’ve just got to get a few things. I’ll be right back.” Buffy sat down on his TV chair and waited.   Spike found a duffle bag and filled it with a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts. Then he picked up the picture of him and Drusilla from all those years ago. Opening the back of the frame, he took out the picture. Yes! I knew I had written it down. He jotted down the number on the back of the picture and stuffed the paper in his pocket. He grabbed a few more odds and ends and then rejoined Buffy.   “All set?” she asked.   “Lead on, MacDuff,” Spike answered. They made the rest of the rounds, took out a few more fledges, then ended up back at Buffy’s house.   They flopped down on the couch when they got inside. Spike’s face was clearly still hurting. Buffy noticed him wincing when he moved. She moved over closer to him and said, “Spike? You could probably use a bit more of the good stuff, couldn’t you?”   Spike took her proffered arm and stroked her wrist gently. “I’ll heal without it, love. You don’t have to do this. Don’t owe me anything, remember?”   Buffy stroked the undamaged part of his face and his hair with her other hand. “I want to give you this, Spike,” she said softly. She leaned over and kissed him tenderly. His eyes widened for a moment. She can’t really mean that, can she? Then she deepened the kiss and Spike lost all reservations. Don’t care if she means it, thank you very much. He brought his hand up to cup the back of her head, burying his fingers in her long, vanilla scented hair. Their tongues met and began to tease one another gently as they took their time exploring each other’s mouths.   Spike worked his way gently down her face and neck, planting kisses all the way. His cool lips were soothing and enticing. When he reached her neck, she whispered, “Go ahead, Spike. I want you to.” Spike hesitated for a moment longer, until Buffy started to kiss his jaw line and move down his neck toward his shoulder, causing him to moan softly. Playing with fire, pet, kissing a vampire there. He slowly brought his vampire face to the fore, never ceasing his loving attentions to her beautiful neck. Gently as he could, he sank his fangs into her.   After the initial sting, Buffy was astonished at how completely sensual it felt. Oh my God. Who knew it could feel like this? When Angel had bitten her, it had hurt, but she had felt some of this sexual heat toward the end. Spike didn’t hurt her at all, and the heat was slow, sweet and all-consuming. He took several long, slow pulls of her blood, then tenderly licked the wounds closed.   They separated, both breathing hard. Spike had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this girl, this moment. Summoning up his courage, he said softly, “Where do you want this to go, love?”   Buffy didn’t know what to say. I want him. Is it right? I don’t know how I feel. So mixed up right now… But as she looked into his one bright blue eye, and took in once more the evidence of the pain he had suffered on her behalf, she realized that she did feel something for him. Might not be love yet, but it was trust, and friendship. After the days of feeling nothing, then feeling pain and overload, she needed to feel something tender, something good.   Making up her mind, she stood up, and took his hand. She led him silently up the stairs to her room. She turned to him and kissed him again. “I need you, Spike,” she whispered.   Spike’s heart leaped to hear those words. Don’t blow this, Spike, he told himself. He rested his hands on her hips and drew her close, kissing her with every ounce of skill and passion he had learned in a century. One hand made its way slowly around to her back while the other cupped her breast, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from the Slayer. She responded in kind, running her hands under his shirt and exploring his back and chest. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, growing bolder and more insistent every moment.   Breaking the kiss, Spike slid his hands up her sides, relieving her of her shirt and casting it aside. He nibbled his way down her neck, hands busily divesting her of her bra to clear the way for his tongue. She gasped with pleasure as he reached her nipple, licking and teasing it while his hands kept up their explorations.   Buffy reached down and pulled his shirt up, causing him to let go of her breasts long enough for her to ease it over his head, mindful of his ravaged face. She took her turn working her way down his chest with hands and lips and tongue, causing him to groan as he grew painfully hard. He stepped back a bit, causing Buffy a moment of confusion. Then she saw that he was slowly, enticingly removing his jeans, revealing his fine, sculpted body and his jutting erection. My God, he’s a Greek statue, Buffy thought. She couldn’t keep her tongue from licking her lower lip as she unzipped her jeans and let them drop to the floor as well.   For a moment they faced each other, appreciating each other’s nakedness. My fantasies didn’t do you justice, Slayer, Spike thought as he took her hand and pulled her down on the bed beside him. Their kissing became more and more energetic as their hands roamed further. Spike gasped as Buffy’s hand stroked him, her soft skin like fire against him. He slid his fingers down her body, grazing her clit and then dipping into her molten core. She writhed with pleasure at his touch. Spike smiled wickedly, then kissed his way down her body to settle between her legs.   Buffy nearly came from the first touch of his cool tongue on her clit. God, that feels incredible. His fingers pumped into her center, teasing and arousing her even more. It didn’t take long before she felt the climax building to a shuddering finish. “Spike!” she cried as she crashed over the edge, her whole body convulsing with pleasure. Panting, she said, “Need you inside me. Please.”   “Yes,” he sighed, sliding up her body. He entered her slowly and smoothly, moaning, “Oh God, Buffy. So tight, so hot…” He buried himself completely inside her and stilled for a moment, closing his eyes to drink in the sensation.   She reached up to pull him into another kiss, and his good eye met her green ones. They began moving together, falling naturally into each other’s rhythm, as if they were old lovers rather than new ones. She wrapped her legs tight around him, driving him deeper inside. Spike gasped as she gripped him with her Slayer muscles. Christ, I didn’t know a woman could do that.   He rolled them over and Buffy took control, writhing and working herself onto him as they both put forth endless streams of pleasured words. “So deep, yes, oh, yes.” “There Slayer, that’s my girl…” Buffy thought she could never get enough of his hands, his voice, his gorgeous body. He reached down and started rubbing circles around her clit, causing her to cry out in ecstasy as she spiraled into another orgasm, pulling Spike along with her as he screamed her name and came.   She sunk down onto his chest, into his arms, his cock still locked inside her. They both shuddered with dozens of little aftershocks. Spike rolled them again so they were side by side, still joined, limbs entwined, still kissing like there was no tomorrow. Finally, they rested their heads on the pillows, gazing into each other’s faces. “Spike,” Buffy breathed. “That was…” She had no words.   “Yeah,” Spike agreed, smiling. “You’re incredible, Buffy. Your body…” He gazed in open admiration at her hair, her smooth skin, her perfect little breasts.   “I admit, I had a sneak peak at your goods while I was a ghost,” Buffy said slyly.   Spike raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh really? Do tell.”   “After you saw me at my house that first time, I went to see if you could see me again. Got quite an eyeful.”   “Like what you see?” Spike leered.   “Most definitely,” Buffy grinned. Then she tackled him onto his back and the dance began again.   TBC

Chapter #12 - Chapter 12

Disclaimer: All the characters you know and love are Joss Whedon’s.   *******************   The clock read 11:56 when Buffy finally woke up the next morning. She turned over to see Spike, still sleeping. I still can’t get used to guys who are still there in the morning. Never get tired of that. She was happy to see that the scarring on his face was much less this morning. Guess Slayer blood really does help. The black, burned patches had been replaced by healing pink tissue, and the area around his eye looked much more normal.   Spike felt her stirring and opened his eyes. To his delight, he could see some light with his right eye. The vision in that eye was terribly blurry, but better than the day before. “Morning, love,” he said in a voice husky with sleep. Girl wore me out. Never thought a human girl could go that long.   “I’ve got to get up,” said Buffy. “My meeting with Dawn is in an hour. Don’t want to be late.” She leaned over and kissed him, adding, “How’s your eye this morning?”   “Got light and shadow, so that’s something. Still all blurry though.” He sighed as she got up, immediately missing her warm presence in the bed. He contented himself with watching her move around, heading to the shower. Can’t believe I’m here, he thought. Never thought I would be waking up here. Never in a million years. He closed his eyes again, basking in his good fortune.   Buffy hurried through her shower, wondering what she was going to say when she met Dawn. But as her soaped hands ran over her breasts she sighed at the memory of Spike’s hands. Amazing what a century of practice can do. She was still afraid she was rushing into things with him, but a large part of her didn’t care. He helped me. He risked life and limb for me. That means something. She shook herself back into the present, finished rinsing off, and got out.   Spike eyed her appreciatively as she dressed and combed out her long blonde hair. It was now half past noon, so she was rushing to get ready. She came over, gave Spike one more kiss and said, “I’ll see you later.”   “Say hi to the Nibblet for me,” he responded. Then she turned and left and Spike rolled over, closing his eyes for just a few minutes more.   *********************   The few minutes turned out to be a few hours, and Spike realized it was nearly four o’clock when he woke up. He sat up, scratching his head and yawning. The time registered on his consciousness. Four o’clock. Shouldn’t she be back by now? Puzzling, he went and showered, then went downstairs to find something to eat. As he drank his blood, he found himself growing a bit concerned, although he wasn’t sure why. She’s the slayer. She probably just lost track of time talking to her sis.   As the minutes kept creeping by, Spike found himself increasingly anxious. Finally after a half hour he decided to give a call down to Social Services. At least he could find out when she left. He rummaged around for the phone book, found the number, and called, asking to speak to Ms. Davis. He paced while the call transferred, until he heard a voice say, “This is Ms. Davis, how may I help you?”   Putting on his best proper Victorian gentlemen accent, he responded, “Yes, good afternoon. My name is Mr. Pratt and I am a financial advisor. Ms. Summers was supposed to meet with me this afternoon after a visit to your offices and she never arrived. I was a bit concerned – she seemed highly interested in our meeting and I was quite surprised when she did not arrive.”   “Oh dear. I’m afraid Ms. Summers is in the hospital,” Ms Davis answered.   What?? Making an effort to maintain his façade, he proclaimed, “Good lord. What happened, if I may inquire?”   “She was here to see her sister and she collapsed. She stood up to greet her sister and just passed out on the floor. We had to call an ambulance for the poor thing. Just fainted dead away with no warning.”   Spike clenched the phone so hard it was in danger of shattering under the force. Struggling against rage he said, “Oh dear. I see. Well I guess I will have to reschedule her appointment for when she is well. Thank you so much, madam.”   “You’re welcome, Mr. Pratt,” she replied, and hung up.   Spike growled with frustration and worry. Is she ill? Was it some after effect? He grabbed his duster, and was about to dash out the door when the phone rang. Hoping that it was Buffy, or someone with news of her, he snatched up the phone. “Hello?”   “Spike, it’s Tara,” came the reply. “Is Buffy there?”   “She’s in the hospital,” Spike explained. “Apparently she passed out when she was at Social Services to see Dawn this afternoon. I was on my way to the hospital when you called.”   “Oh no,” gasped Tara. “I… Spike, I think it was Willow.”   Again Spike’s vampire strength threatened to mangle the phone. “What do you mean, it was Willow? What the fuck did she do?”   “I think she cast a spell on Buffy. She wasn’t here when I got home from class, but a bunch of books were out, and she had been burning herbs. I think she was trying to heal her pain or something.”   Spike was furious. “Find that bitch and get her to undo whatever the hell she did, or so help me God, chip or no chip I will kick her ass. If you need me, I’ll be at the hospital.” He slammed the phone down, threw his duster over his head, and dashed out of the house, making for the nearest sewer.   Spike dashed at full speed through the tunnels and sewers, emerging through a manhole in the parking garage under the hospital. He fled upstairs to the information desk. “My friend was brought in here a few hours ago,” he said to the nurse. “Buffy Summers?”   “Are you related to her?” asked the nurse. She was a bit taken aback by the mass of healing scar tissue on his face. Geez, what happened to you?   “No, but we’re very close. She doesn’t have any relations nearby.”   The nurse hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t really supposed to give out information to non family members, but no one at all had inquired about the girl. Finally she said, “Room 213, down the hall, up one flight.”   “Thanks,” Spike said before taking off in the right direction. He reached the room and carefully opened the door. Buffy was there, breathing, heart beating, but unconscious. He moved over to her side, reaching out to put a hand to her forehead and stroke her hair. “It’s me love. What happened to you?” he murmured.   A doctor came in soon afterward, surprised to see someone besides his patient. “Are you a friend of Ms. Summers?” he asked.   “Yes. What’s wrong with her? Will she be alright?” Spike’s concern was evident in his voice.   “That’s the problem. There seems to be nothing wrong with her. She bumped her head a bit when she hit the floor, but that’s minor. We can’t find any reason for this coma.”   Oh, there’s a reason alright. And if that reason doesn’t fix this I am going to rip her throat out. Forcing his demon down, Spike asked “Can I stay here with her?”   “Yes, of course,” said the doctor. “Talk to her. Sometimes that helps.”   Spike sat down next to the bed and took Buffy’s hand in his. “Need you back here, Slayer,” he whispered. “The Nibblet and I, we both need you.” He kept murmuring to her in soothing tones, wondering if Willow was going to be able to fix the mess this time.   ***************   After nearly 2 hours of sitting there, seeing no change and talking himself hoarse, Spike heard the door open. The Scoobies walked in, looking worried. Willow’s face was nearly as red as her hair. “Spike, how is she?” Willow began, coming over to Buffy’s bedside.   Spike vamped out, grabbed her shoulders, and got within inches of her face. “What. Did. You. Do.” he growled, flinching a bit as his chip fired.   Anya and Tara jumped a bit at his tone. Xander pushed Spike back saying, “Hey, back off! She was just trying to help.”   Spike turned on him. “Help? You call this helping? You lot have a really interesting definition of that word.” He turned back to Willow. “She’s in a fucking coma thanks to your help. She passed out in front of Dawn and the social worker, which I’m sure is going to help get Dawn back home. Couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you?   “It was supposed to be a healing spell,” Willow tried to explain. “I just wanted to help her with the pain…”   “Well I’m sure she’s feeling no pain right now, I’ll grant you that,” Spike spat out. Willow flushed even further. “Now can you get this spell reversed, or not?” His yellow eyes glared at her with laser sharp intensity.   Tara tried to defuse the situation. “We can break it, Spike. We just need to do a little ritual.”   “Then get on it already.” He kept up the angry glare.   Willow and Tara lit a couple candles and sprinkled herbs around the bed. They linked hands and chanted in some strange tongue for a few minutes. The air crackled a bit with their magic power. Spike’s face slipped back into its human form as he watched Buffy’s eyelids flutter open.   “Spike? Where am I?” she asked, confused. She sat up and looked around, realizing she was in a hospital room. “What happened?”   “You’re in hospital, love. You passed out at the social service office.”   Buffy rubbed her forehead. “I remember. It was like being pulled somewhere…” Buffy’s eyes widened as she realized what it had felt like. Her eyes narrowed again, focusing on Willow. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she asked coldly.   “I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Willow began. “I only wanted to help…”   Her response was cut off by Buffy launching herself from the bed and tackling Willow onto the floor. “Fucking bitch! I told you to leave me alone!” Buffy was beside herself with rage. She shook Willow until her teeth rattled. Jumping forward while the others were still in shock, Spike grabbed her from behind and pulled her off.   “Enough, Slayer,” he said sharply. “Don’t want you doing something you’ll regret later.” She struggled a moment in his grasp, then subsided. Spike turned her around and held her to his chest as she shuddered with emotion.   Tara and Xander helped Willow up from the floor. She was seeing stars, and she looked completely shocked by the turn of events. Willow started to sputter, “Buffy I…”   “Get out, all of you,” snarled Buffy from within Spike’s arms. “If you don’t leave, I am not going to be responsible for what happens to you.”   Tears started running down Willow’s face as she realized the full consequences of her spell. The pure hatred in Buffy’s voice, directed at her, frightened and shamed her. Biting her lip, she let Anya lead her out of the room. Xander paused at the door, turning to say something, anything to make the situation better. Buffy saw him and said, “No. Don’t. There is nothing you can say, Xander. Nothing. This was…” She searched for the right words. “I feel violated. Betrayed. She broke her word, and broke my trust. I need you all to leave. Now.”   Xander deflated visibly, then turned to go. Tara started to follow, then took a piece of paper out of her bag. “B…Buffy? I did a locator spell. This is the address where Dawn’s at.” Trembling slightly, she held out the paper. Buffy took it, still clasped in Spike’s arms. “Thank you,” Buffy whispered. Tara nodded, collected the candles, and then turned to go.   Buffy buried her face in Spike’s shirt as he stroked her back soothingly. “Thanks for stopping me,” she said finally. “I think I could have killed her if you didn’t.”   “It’s ok, love,” he soothed. “Not like you didn’t have your reasons.”   “I’m the Slayer. I’m supposed to hunt demons, not beat on humans.”   He pulled her chin up to look her in the eye. “You’re human too, pet. You’ve gone through an awful lot recently. I think you can be forgiven the occasional outburst.” He stroked her hair and kissed her gently.   Their kiss was interrupted by a nurse coming in. She stopped as if she hit a wall. “You’re awake!” she said, amazed. “How? When did this happen? Let me get the doctor!” The nurse bustled out again.   Spike smiled. “Guess you’re a modern medical miracle, pet.”   “I just need to get out of here and see Dawn,” said Buffy. The doctor came in at that point, as astonished as the nurse had been.   “Ms. Summers! How are you feeling?” he asked. Then noticing Spike he added, “And you are?”   “William,” Spike said, not wanting to arouse any suspicions with his usual moniker. “I’m a friend of Buffy’s.”   “So, can I leave now?” Buffy asked.   “I’d really like to keep you for one more night for observation. I have no explanation for what happened to you. We need to make sure it isn’t something we’re missing.”   “But I’m fine!” Buffy protested.   “Buffy,” said Spike, interrupting. “Look, you need to get a clean bill of health to make sure the social services folks are happy. Won’t hurt you to let the doctor look you over.”   Buffy saw his point. If she insisted on leaving against medical advice, it might reflect badly on her. Sighing, she said, “Alright. If you insist. Test away.”   Spike leaned over and whispered, “Give me that address, pet. I’ll go find Dawn and explain things to her.” Buffy looked up at him gratefully and slipped him the piece of paper from Tara. “See you later?”   “Thanks Spi…William,” she replied, kissing him lightly. They locked eyes for a moment, then Spike took his leave.   TBC

Chapter #13 - Chapter 13

The usual Disclaimer: Not my vampires, Joss Whedon’s vampires. Continued thanks for the continued reviews!   ****************************   Spike walked out of the hospital into the early evening air, but did not go immediately to find Dawn. Instead, he headed to the public library, which was still open. He sat down at a computer, did some quick searching on the internet, then headed back to Buffy’s house. When he got there, he made a series of phone calls. The conversations were long and complicated, but after two hours or so he hung up, pleased with himself. That’ll be a nice surprise for her. Hope she doesn’t mind.   He checked the clock, realized it was nearly ten o’clock, and headed out to find the address Tara had given them. It was quite a distance from Revello Drive, but Spike found it eventually. The house was pleasant looking enough, but had bars on all the bedroom windows. Guess they have a lot of teens coming through here who like to run, he thought. Lights were on in several of the rooms. He quietly crept around the house, using all his senses to find signs of Dawn. He caught a whiff of her scent coming from the back of the house. He saw a light at a bedroom window on the second floor. There were no convenient trees like at Buffy’s house, but he found a helpful trellis that allowed him to get up one corner. He edged along the small overhang under the windows until he reached the one where Dawn’s scent was strongest.   He looked in the window. It was a small room, with a twin bed, a chair, and a dresser, and not too much else. Lying on the bed, listlessly flipping through a magazine, was Dawn. “Dawn!” he cried, trying not to make too much noise. He tapped gently on the window. Dawn jumped, startled, then her face burst into a genuine smile as she came over and opened the window.   “Spike! Where’ve you been? Why hasn’t anyone come for me? Who was that today? Was it Willow and some spell? Did they fix the bot? What..?”   “Slow down, Nibblet,” Spike interrupted. “A lot’s happened in the last couple days that you need to know about. You may want to sit down.”   Dawn pulled her chair over to the window. Just then she noticed Spike’s face and gasped. “Spike, what happened? Your face looks awful!”   “Thanks, just what every man needs to hear,” Spike replied. “Just listen now, ok? Dawn, Buffy’s alive. That was her you saw today. She’s alive again.”   Disbelief and joy fought for first position on Dawn’s face. “How? How is that possible? And if she’s alive what happened to her?” Dawn searched Spike’s face for any sign of a trick. “You’re not making stuff up, are you?”   Spike’s voice grew stern. “Dawn, I have never lied to you. I wasn’t lying to you about Buffy being a ghost, and I am not lying to you now. I know you were covering about skipping school before. But I also know you wanted to believe me.”   Dawn bit her lip and cast her eyes down. “I did want to believe you, Spike. I… I’m sorry I caused all this trouble. I felt so alone…” Tears threatened to well up in her brown eyes.   “’S ok, Nibblet,” Spike said gently. He tried to reach his hand through the bars to comfort her, but he bounced off the barrier. Dawn reached her hand out instead, and he clasped it comfortingly. “Now listen, ok? I’ll give you the whole story from the beginning.”   Spike settled into a more comfortable position on the edge of the roof and told her the whole tale. Dawn listened, spellbound, as Spike described the failed resurrection, the ritual and his own injuries, Buffy’s return to her former self, and Willow’s second spell. “Willow made Buffy pass out like that?” Dawn exclaimed, shocked. “Why would she do that?”   “I think she was just trying to make Buffy’s pain go away. But as usual, she didn’t think through the consequences, or go crazy and actually ask Buffy if that was what she really wanted. Maybe she’ll think next time.”   “So what happens to me now?” Dawn asked.   “Dawn, you’re going to have to be patient for a little longer,” Spike explained. “We need to get you back legally and all, or you and your sister will never have any peace. Buffy’s gotta take some parenting classes and some other stuff.”   “Are Willow and Tara still going to live with us?” Dawn wondered.   “No, Bit,” Spike said. “Buffy asked them to leave. Partly because she’s pissed at them, but also because legally, they can’t live there unless they have gone through background checks and all.”   “What about you?” Dawn asked. “What are you going to do now?”   Spike wasn’t sure how much Buffy wanted Dawn to know about their relationship, but he felt that honesty was probably a good policy overall. “Dawn, Buffy and I… well, we seem to have become friends. Maybe more than friends.”   Dawn nearly squealed. “Yes! You two would be a great couple! But… are you going to live with us?”   “Well, that remains to be seen, Nibblet,” Spike said honestly. “I’m gonna have to make myself scarce when the social services folks come around. But I’ve been with your sis since she got back, and she seems to want me to stay.”   “Is… is she going to be ok? She really scared me when she passed out,” said Dawn in a small voice.   “She’s a bit frazzled, pet. Everything is a bit much for her now. She was in Heaven, where it was all peace and rest. Now she’s back to life and slaying and all that, and it’s really hard for her. Just need to understand that, ok?”   Dawn nodded. Spike continued, “They taking care of you ok here, Bit?”   “Yeah, it’s ok,” said Dawn, shrugging. “There’s two other girls here – sisters, one my age, one a year or two younger. Their folks were killed in a car crash, and they’re not sure what relative can take them in. We’ve sort of bonded over the whole orphan thing, but they’re even more messed up than me. Mrs. Langely – the foster mother person – she seems alright. Pretty strict about homework and behavior and all that. She’d probably freak if…”   “Dawn? Are you talking to someone?” came the voice of Mrs. Langley. Spike ducked out of sight on the ledge as the door opened and a thin woman in her forties came in.   Dawn feigned interest in the stars. “I was just stargazing a bit, Mrs. Langely. It… it makes me think of home somehow.”   Mrs. Langely softened a bit. “You’ll be back there soon. Ms. Davis called – your sister will be out of the hospital tomorrow.”   “Really?” said Dawn, the excitement in her voice totally genuine. “Can I see her tomorrow?”   “We’ll see what we can do. You need to go to sleep though – school tomorrow.”   “Ok Mrs. Langely,” Dawn responded politely. Mrs. Langely closed the door. Dawn whispered to Spike, “Are you still out there?”   “Yes. And you deserve an Oscar for that performance, miss,” Spike said, smirking a bit. “Better let you get some sleep. I’ll see you soon. You behave yourself, you hear?”   “Yes, sir,” said Dawn, rolling her eyes. “Night, Spike.”   “Sleep tight, Nibblet,” Spike said affectionately. Then he quietly climbed back down from the roof. He did a quick sweep of the cemeteries, dusted a few unfortunate fledglings, then headed back to Revello Drive.   ********************   Buffy was discharged at noon the next day, and was grateful to escape. I really, really hate hospitals, she thought as she walked back toward home. They were initially reluctant to let her leave unaccompanied, but when she explained that her friend William was working and no one else really had a car, they let her go. The relief at leaving the hospital was quickly swamped by money worries. Need to look at all those bills. Ms. Davis had stopped in to check on her that morning, and had said she could come at three that afternoon to see Dawn. She also reminded Buffy that she would need to get her financial information together soon. Buffy bit her lip as she walked. How do I do this? What sort of job am I qualified for? Can’t really put ‘Slayer with 6 years experience’ on a resume.   She got home and opened the door, calling “Spike? Are you here?”   Spike was in the kitchen sipping a mug of blood when she entered. “So they let you escape, did they?” He rose and came over to her. He still felt so gun shy about being too familiar with her. You’re a git, William, he said to himself. But she erased his doubts by stepping into his arms and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. He held her close and kissed her back, reveling in her warmth. “Welcome home, Slayer.”   “Did you see Dawn yesterday?” she asked hopefully.   “I checked up on her last night,” Spike answered. “Explained the whole long tale to her. She’s being well looked after there. Lady who’s watching her seems strict, but a kindly sort. She can’t wait to see you.”   “Glad to hear it. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe you.” Buffy admitted.   “I had to do a little convincing,” he said. “But she accepted it all in the end.”   “That’s a relief,” Buffy sighed. “Now I just gotta sign up for those parenting classes and figure out this money stuff.”   “About that,” said Spike. He led Buffy into the living room and sat down on the couch, pulling Buffy onto his lap. “I’ve got a tale to tell you.”   Buffy settled comfortably in his arms, putting her head on his shoulder. “Does this tale have a happy ending?” she asked.   Spike smiled. “You’ll have to decide that.” He kissed the top of her head and began, “Back in about 1920 or so, Drusilla and I were in Switzerland. One night we caught an old man coming home late one night and, well…”   “Let me guess. You ate him,” Buffy said, frowning. “So far, I’m not particularly happy with this tale.”   Spike continued, “Well, you can rest assured that he wasn’t particularly long for the world anyhow. He was definitely ill – you could taste it in his blood. But in any event, we went into his house to sleep the day away. The place was nearly bare, but in his closet we found 100,000 Swiss francs. The man was a complete miser – that was an absolute fortune at the time. Dru and I decided to open one of those infamous Swiss bank accounts with it. Save for a rainy day, we thought. But we never actually ended up going back for it. We roamed the globe, doing this, that and the other, but we sort of forgot about it. I found the number of the bank account when we went back to my crypt the other day. Called the bank yesterday, and apparently, the account is still there. And due to the principle of compound interest, it’s worth quite a lot after 80 years.”   Buffy was stunned. “But… you don’t mean to…”   Spike smiled and nodded. “If you look at your bank account, you’ll find the number a little higher than when you looked last. I spent this morning paying off your bills and your mortgage. Even after you pay taxes on it, you’ll still have enough to keep you going at least until Dawn gets out of high school. Invest it well, and might last even longer, or help with college or whatever.”   Buffy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tears of joy started falling down her cheeks as she threw her arms around Spike and cried, “Oh Spike! It’s too much! How can I ever thank you?” She kissed him again, long and deep.   “You already have thanked me, Buffy,” Spike said tenderly. “You’ve let me into your life. ‘S all I ever wanted.”   Buffy couldn’t find the words to express the relief, the gratitude she felt. “I don’t deserve all this from you,” she whispered.   “Guess you’ll just have to live with that,” Spike grinned. He kissed her again, running his hands through her hair and down her back. Their kisses rapidly turned into groping and panting. They made quick work of each other’s clothes and Buffy lay down, welcoming Spike with her eyes. Spike took her in one hard stroke, making them both groan in concert. Their lovemaking was wild this time as they clawed and pounded at each other. Buffy felt the orgasm building like a tidal wave, and she realized finally that this was what she wanted. This man, who cared for her like no other had .This man who wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t lie to her, would protect her with his very life. As the wave crested she cried out, “Oh God, Spike, I love you!”   At those words, which he never expected to hear from her lips, Spike fell over the edge too, screaming her name as he came.   TBC

Chapter #14 - Chapter 14

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss. **********************   They came back to themselves a little while later, when they heard the hall clock strike two. “Best get ready to go see the Nibblet, pet.” Spike said.   Buffy lifted her head from its resting place on Spike’s pale chest and smiled contentedly. “Join me in a quick shower?” she invited.   “Not sure if I’m going to be able to make it quick, love,” Spike purred. But he rose when she tugged his hand and joined her. They managed to keep the shower reasonably short, while enjoying the sensations of soaping and caressing each other’s bodies. With a heavy sigh, Buffy turned off the water and stepped out. Spike watched appreciatively as she toweled off and combed out her long hair. Buffy, for her part, could never get enough of his body. Wow. What a piece of artwork this man is.   “Best get moving, Slayer,” he said, snapping a towel at her playfully. “Don’t want to have to explain to the Nibblet that you were late because you were shagging me.”   Buffy sighed, “Guess that would be a bit on the awkward side.” She found some clothes, brushed her hair, and asked, “How do I look?”   Spike smirked, “You’re asking the wrong person, pet. I prefer the unclothed look on you.”   “Pig,” said Buffy. But she smiled as she said it. She gave him another kiss, then broke it reluctantly saying, “I gotta go.” She turned to leave, then paused and turned to him one more time. “I meant what I said. I do love you, Spike”   He tenderly cupped her face and kissed her. “I know,” he whispered. He gazed at her for a long moment, then straightened up. “You go on then,” Spike said. “And if they ask about your finances, tell them it was an anonymous benefactor. I set it up so that the money can’t be easily traced to a person, since the person who opened the account has been technically deceased since 1880, which would probably raise a few eyebrows.”   “Ya think?” Buffy replied. Then with one last smile, she hurried out the door.   Buffy arrived at the Social Services office at five minutes before three, and asked for Ms. Davis. Ms Davis greeted her warmly and invited Buffy to sit down. “Your sister should be arriving soon. Have you signed up for those parenting classes?”   “Can I do that right now? With the hospital trip I haven’t gotten a chance to yet.”   “Of course,” said Ms. Davis. “Let’s see, you could do one in the morning and one in the afternoon the next two days if you like. Then one more on Saturday, and you’d be done.”   “Sounds great. I really want to get her back as soon as I can.” Buffy replied.   “We still need to inspect your house and discuss your finances,” Ms. Davis reminded her.   “Well, the finances are taken care of,” said Buffy. “My bank called me earlier. It seems some benefactor, who wishes to remain anonymous, deposited a large sum of money into my bank account. I was able to pay off my bills, and I plan to invest the rest. Should be enough to support me and my sister for as long as she is under age.”   “I have to admit, that sounds suspicious,” said Ms. Davis doubtfully. “I will have to check up on this with your bank.”   “That’s fine,” smiled Buffy. She told Ms. Davis the name of the bank, and the social worker dutifully noted it down. Just then her phone rang. Ms. Davis picked it up, spoke briefly, and then hung up. “You’re sister’s here. Come with me, and try not to pass out this time,” she added, smiling.   Buffy followed Ms. Davis, a bit nervous about how her sister would react to her. They entered a small room with a sofa and a few chairs. Dawn leaped up from the sofa and cried, “Buffy!” She launched herself into her sister’s arms. Both of them clung to each other and burst into tears of joy. Ms. Davis was surprised. You’d think they hadn’t seen each other in months, she thought. She smiled at their obvious affection for each other. “We’ll just leave you two alone for a while,” she said kindly, as she closed the door.   The sisters sat down on the couch. “I can’t believe it!” Dawn said, wiping away tears. “Spike told me the whole story, but I just didn’t want to get my hopes up.”   “Oh Dawnie, let me look at you,” Buffy said tenderly. She stroked Dawn’s smooth hair in a loving gesture. “Have they been taking care of you?”   “I’m ok,” Dawn reassured her. Looking down she said, “I’m sorry about skipping school. I…”   “Hey, I know,” Buffy said, picking Dawn’s chin up so they could look each other in the eyes. “You were hurting. I saw you spend the day crying in the cemetery. I was there. It was torture not to be able to do anything for you.”   “You were really there?” Dawn asked in amazement. “I was so scared about getting caught and I just felt like no one cared. I didn’t want to believe Spike when he said he saw you.”   “Well, I’m back for real now,” Buffy replied. “And I want you to know that I am doing whatever I can to get you back home as fast as I can. But you need to promise me you’re going to stay out of trouble. If I can’t get you to go to school, they’re going to take you away for good next time.”   Dawn nodded solemnly. “I promise.” Then she added, “Is Spike going to stay with us?”   Buffy blushed a bit. “Not sure yet. I…” Buffy swallowed. “I think I love him, Dawn.”   “Really?” Dawn was so excited she bounced on the sofa. “That would be so awesome! Spike is one of my best friends. He was the only one who really understood me last summer.”   “But for now, we can’t have him be obviously living with us, ok?” Buffy cut in. “There aren’t supposed to be any adults in the house who aren’t related or who haven’t had a background check, and he really doesn’t have a background to check. So you need to keep quiet about this, especially around the authorities, understand?”   “I understand,” Dawn replied. She grew serious for a second. “Buffy… what was… what was it like, where you were?”   Buffy hesitated. Then, looking at her lap she said, “It was warm, and quiet, and peaceful. It was like… you know when we would both be curled up with mom, watching some old movie and everything just felt comfortable and secure? Like that, only more so.”   Dawn bit her lip. “Are you mad that you’re back?”   Buffy caught Dawn’s concern. “I am incredibly angry at Willow and the others, although I guess Tara’s ok. She told Spike how to find you. But I’m planning to stay around, Dawnie. I know you need me. Spike needs me too, and I need the two of you. It hurt a lot at first. Still does at times. Can you just be patient with me for a while, if I get moody or sad sometimes?”   “Of course I can,” Dawn replied. “Can you put up with a teenage girl in the house?”   Buffy smiled. “I think I still have the manual from when I was a teen.” They hugged again, each grateful for the other’s presence. They chatted with each other for an hour, Dawn telling Buffy all about the summer without her. Then Ms. Davis returned with Dawn’s foster mother, saying “Dawn? It’s time to go.”   The sisters stood up and hugged again. “I’ll see you soon, ok?” said Buffy. Dawn nodded, close to tears again. Buffy fixed her eyes on Mrs. Langely and said “Take good care of her. Please.”   “Of course I will,” said Mrs. Langley, smiling. With one last wave, Dawn said goodbye and left.   “Well, Ms. Summers,” Ms. Davis began. “I talked with your bank and it appears you do have a very generous friend out there somewhere. But everything seems to be aboveboard and legal, so it appears your financial hurdle has been crossed. Will you be available on Saturday afternoon for the home inspection?”   “Absolutely.” Buffy agreed. She shook Ms. Davis’ hand and walked home, stopping on the way to get some fresh blood for Spike.   When she came home, she found the house was empty. There was a note on the table in Spike’s remarkably old-fashioned copperplate hand. Need to take care of a few things. I’ll take care of patrol – you relax. Be back later, Spike. Buffy smiled. She knew that Giles would probably think she was shirking her Slayer duties, but she felt like Sunnydale would survive for another night without her on patrol.   Buffy made herself an early dinner, then spent an hour or two cleaning the house. She was not the domestic type, but it felt good to put things back in order. When she came across Spike’s duffle, she smiled. She cleared out a drawer in what had been the witches’ room and put his few clothes in there. She wasn’t sure how the sleeping arrangements would work out once Dawn came back home, but there was more room there anyhow. She put a couple of towels on the top – if a social worker for some strange reason casually opened the drawer, they would see extra linen storage, nothing more.   When the house was clean to her satisfaction, Buffy drew herself a bubble bath and sank in for a good long soak. This isn’t heaven, but it’s not a terrible approximation, she sighed as she closed her eyes and let the warmth sink into her bones. She thought about Spike while she soaked. Deciding that she loved him was liberating. It was never going to make Giles happy, but she didn’t care. Tara would be fine with it. Willow and Xander could go climb a cactus. Anya would probably either not care, or say something about orgasms. Mmm. Spike induced orgasms… Buffy had the feeling she would never get enough of those.   After a while, the water started to turn cold, so Buffy got out, dried off, and wrapped herself in her favorite robe. She went down to the kitchen to make herself a cup of cocoa to enjoy in front of the television. As she was about to settle down on the couch, the phone rang. Who could that be at this hour? she wondered as she went to the phone. “Hello?”   “Buffy? Is it really you?” It was Angel.   There goes the serenity. “Yeah, it’s me,” she replied, unenthusiastically. Truthfully, Angel hadn’t even come to mind in the few days she had been back. “Who told you I was back?”   “Xander called yesterday. He said that Willow resurrected you. He was going on about how you had thrown them all out and was living with Spike? Buffy what’s going on?”   Of course. Gotta have the male elks bashing their antlers together over who gets to mate with me. I knew something was missing in the whole pile of stress. Buffy responded, “Did Xander also tell you how I was in Heaven, got yanked out and brought back as a ghost, and how Spike was the only one who could see me? Did he mention that he almost killed Spike because he assumed that Spike was doing something evil instead trying to send me back to Heaven? Did he mention that Dawn got taken away by social services because Willow was too busy fucking up my life to watch her? Or that Willow managed to put me in a fucking coma by doing yet another spell on me?”   “He mentioned much of that, although he left out a few details,” Angel admitted.   “So what do you want, Angel?” Buffy sighed.   “I just… wanted to talk, Buffy,” he replied. “You’re back. I thought I had lost you forever.”   “You did, Angel,” Buffy said, with a sudden clarity in her mind. “You pretty much lost me when you left for L.A.”   Angel sounded taken aback. “Buffy, you know I had to go. I never stopped loving you. When you… when you died I just about lost it. I couldn’t deal. I ended up spending three months in Sri Lanka trying to get my head on straight again.”   “You know what? Spike was pretty upset too. You know what he did? He stayed!” Buffy was yelling at this point, loudly enough that she didn’t hear Spike come in the back door. Spike listened, wide eyed as he heard Buffy continue. “Spike stayed, Angel. Even though I was gone, even though my friends treated him like shit. He stayed. He patrolled, he took care of Dawn. When I turned up all ghosty, he tried to send me back to Heaven, and all he got was a face full of holy water for his troubles. Where the hell were you in all this?”   “Buffy… I…:” Angel sputtered.   Buffy raged on as if she hadn’t heard. “That was always your style, Angel. Take the easy way out. You’re a coward. Angelus wouldn’t just take me on in a fair fight – no he had to pick on all the defenseless folk around me first. When the First was tormenting you, you wanted to just dust yourself, instead of fighting. You took off to L.A. ‘for my own good’, but really, it was just more running away. Instead of dealing with my death, you ran away, when you could have helped. You can hide behind your mission and all that, but you’re still just a coward.”   “So what’s Spike then?” Angel shouted back. “He’s a soulless creature of evil! That chip in his skull is the only thing that holds him back.”   “Bullshit!” cried Buffy. “He’s done more for me without a soul than you ever did with one. Tonight he went patrolling for me so I could relax. Did you ever help me with patrol? Ever?”   “It’s your duty! It’s your sacred calling!” Angel replied, the exasperation evident in his voice.   “Doesn’t mean I might not occasionally like a hand!” Buffy retorted. “He also emptied out an old bank account of his to pay off my bills so I can get Dawn back.”   “Money that was probably stolen from one of his victims,” Angel interrupted.   “Oh, and you got that vaunted soul as a reward for your stellar behavior, I’m sure.” Buffy spat out. Angel said nothing. “Look, Angel. I know what he is. But I also know that he risked everything for me. He’s done nothing but help me since I got back. He’s not going to leave me. And I love him.”   In the other room, Spike closed his eyes and drank in the sensation. Buffy was telling his grandsire that she was in love with William the Bloody. He wished he could be a fly on the wall to see the apoplectic fit that Angel must be having at this moment.   “How can you love him?” Angel demanded. “So all his past deeds mean nothing, because he paid off your bills?”   “It’s more than that, and you know it,” said Buffy, rapidly tiring of the conversation. “I never threw your past deeds in your face, why shouldn’t Spike get the same treatment? And no matter what my reasons are, it has nothing to do with you. You gave up your vote in this matter long ago, Angel. Good luck with your mission, but stay the hell away from Spike and out of my life.” With that she banged the phone down. Then in frustration she ripped it clean out of the wall and threw it across the room, narrowly missing Spike as he entered.   “Hey, what’s that all about?” His demon was wary of being in a room with an exceedingly brassed off Slayer.   “They won’t leave me alone!” Buffy screamed. Her fists were clenched so hard that blood appeared on her palms where her nails dug in. “Xander couldn’t just shut his fucking mouth! Had to bring Angel into it! Now I’ve got to worry about him showing up and…”   Spike crossed the room and enfolded her in his arms. “Shhh. Take it easy, love. I’m here.”   Buffy was still somewhat hysterical. “But what if he comes up here! I don’t want him deciding that he needs to dust you for my own good, or…”   “Hey!” Spike interrupted. “First thing, that wanker couldn’t dust me in a million years. You and me together? He’d fit into an ashtray in 10 minutes. Second thing, is you were absolutely right. He is a fucking coward. He doesn’t need to have your rejection rubbed in. He’ll just sulk and brood a bit more than usual for a week or two, then he’ll come up with some noble justification for his actions, as usual, then move on.”   Buffy’s rage turned into tears. “I just want to sort things out in peace. Why can’t they just leave me be?”   “They care about you, pet,” Spike answered, stoking her hair as she buried her face in his chest. “You changed the tune. You came back different. More sure and determined in some ways, and more vulnerable in others. They don’t know how to deal, except like they always did. They need to adjust, same as you.”   “I suppose I need to not kill them while they are adjusting, huh?” Buffy’s response was muffled in Spike’s shirt.   “Well, you’re asking the wrong guy for advice on not killing,” Spike jibed. “But yeah, I think you’ll regret it in the morning if you do.”   Buffy smiled faintly. She snuggled deeper into that strong embrace. He was so solid, so strong, but not overwhelming like Angel or Riley had been. He seemed to always know what she needed, even before she did.   After a few minutes she straightened up and wiped her eyes with her hands. “So where did you go this afternoon?”   “Wanted to grab a few more things from my crypt. Also wanted to see a demon I know about some documents.”   Buffy gave a puzzled look. “Documents?”   “Yeah. This guy specializes in creating false identities for demons who want to live in the human world. There’s a surprising number of demons who you would take for human if you didn’t look closely, but they tend not to show up in records. Can make it hard to get apartments and jobs sometimes,” Spike explained.   “But why do you need an identity?” Buffy was still confused.   “I plan to hang around here as much as you’ll let me,” Spike explained, stroking the outside of her arms. “But if social services catches me, I want them to be able to run a background check on me without coming up blank, which would look even more suspicious than my actual background.”   “I guess showing them a birth certificate from the 1800’s isn’t really going to reassure them,” Buffy agreed. She looked fondly at him. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”   “Not sure about that, pet. But I plan to take care of you, and the Nibblet, if you’ll let me.”   Buffy reached up and kissed him in answer. He returned the kiss, then stepped back to look at her. He took her hands and sensually sealed the wounds on her palms with his cool tongue, causing Buffy to close her eyes and sigh. “Why does everything you do feel so right?”   “Practice, my dear,” Spike said, grinning. “Why don’t you finish your cocoa, while I see if this phone can be saved.” He kissed her forehead and released her, picking up the remains of the phone while Buffy picked up her cocoa. It was lukewarm at this point, so she took it to the microwave to heat it up a bit. She sat at the kitchen island while Spike did surgery on the phone. “How was your visit with the Nibblet?” he asked as he worked.   “It was good,” Buffy responded between sips. The chocolate and Spike’s presence began to restore her to her pre-phone-call contentment. “I have to go to the first two parenting classes tomorrow. That ought to be… interesting.”   “Gotta jump through their hoops, I guess,” Spike said. He fiddled for a few more minutes trying to reassemble the phone, then gave up. “I think the phone was a casualty, love.”   “We’ve got the extension and the machine here in the kitchen. We’ll survive for a while.” She went to the sink to rinse out her mug while Spike pitched the deceased phone into the trash. He came up behind her while she stood at the sink and wrapped his arms around her.   “You’re not wearin’ much,” Spike commented as he ran one of his hands into the opening of her robe to cup her naked breast.   “Mmmm,” sighed Buffy, leaning back against him and catching his mouth in hers. She started to turn around but his hand gripped her hip as he purred, “No. Stay where you are, love. Wanna make you feel good.” Gonna erase the great Pouf’s voice from your mind. She obeyed and leaned her head back against his shoulder as he kissed slowly down her neck. The hand on her hip slowly stroked its way down to part her robe and caress the inside of her thigh. She was dripping with anticipation as his hand worked its way up to her clit. His cool fingers slid around and inside her at an agonizingly slow pace, teasing and intoxicating. “Spike that’s… ohh,” she moaned, unable to finish the sentence.   After uncounted minutes of this delightful torture, Spike’s other hand released her breasts, and Buffy thrilled to hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans. His hand caressed her, pulling her robe up and out of the way. His hand left her clit just long enough to bend her slightly over the sink as he entered her, still at that maddeningly slow pace. She gasped at his entrance, gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles. He began a gradually quickening rhythm, reaching around to rub her clit at the same time. “Oh God!” she cried as the sensations spiraled up and up. Then, when she felt that she could hold out no longer, she felt the bones in Spike’s face shift against her neck as he vamped out and sunk his fangs into her.   Buffy screamed incoherently at the sensation. Her brain fired a random series of words at the ecstasy, lightning, my god it’s like lightning like flying like heaven my god…  Her neurons overloaded with pleasure and she cried out her lover’s name over and over as she came, and came again.   At the first taste of Slayer blood Spike too found his body convulsing with release. Mine, she’s mine, oh god, gonna dust from this, Slayer, Buffy, lover… He wrenched his fangs out of her neck after four long pulls of her blood and grabbed her hips as he thrust into her again and again. His head dropped down onto her shoulder as he finally finished. They were both shaking uncontrollably.   Buffy’s knees started to buckle, and Spike pulled out of her with a groan as he caught her before she could hit the ground. She turned and leaned limply against him, unable to comprehend what she had just experienced. She was no virgin, but she had never experienced anything even remotely close to that whirlwind of an orgasm. Spike was gasping as well. Nothing was ever like that. Nothing I had with Dru even came close. That was… He couldn’t form a coherent sentence to save his life.   After a long minute of clinging to each other, Spike straightened up a bit. Buffy was still shaking and seemed to have lost control of her limbs. Spike scooped her up in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her up to her bed. He grew a little concerned at her continued limpness as he laid her down on the bed. “Buffy? You ok?” Hope I didn’t drain her too badly in the heat of the moment.   “Yeah,” she mumbled, her eyes half open. “Just… overload again. But in a good way.”   “Was afraid I drank too much,” he said, ditching his clothes and climbing in beside her.   Buffy finally regained enough control of her body to turn her face to him. He was still vamped out, and she ran her hand lightly over the ridges in his forehead. “You still in there, Spike?” she teased quietly.   Spike laughed and shook off his gameface. “Sorry, love. Lost control of my face I guess. The demon was really enjoying that.”   “And the man?”   “Both of us love you, Slayer,” he said tenderly. “Never had anything like you, in all my long years. You’re the one, Buffy.”   “Love you, Spike,” Buffy replied, kissing him again. “You and your demon.” She curled up on his chest then, and drifted off to sleep, as man and demon quietly rejoiced.   TBC

Chapter #15 - Chapter 15

Disclaimers: All the characters are belong to Mr. Whedon. Thank you so much to all my faithful reviewers!   *********************   Spike found himself awake nearly the whole night, watching Buffy sleep and thinking. He had never been the broody, thoughtful type, a fact that used to drive Angelus to distraction. Even before the soul his grandsire had been one to study a situation endlessly before acting, whereas Spike usually jumped in with fangs out and figured things out as he went. But as he listened to Buffy’s heartbeat, and caressed her golden hair gently as it splayed out across his chest, he found himself unable to turn off his brain.   I’m going to have to lose her again someday,he thought. Could be next week, could be fifty years from now, but I’m going to have to put her in the ground again. His heart broke at the thought. Like a devil on his shoulder, the demon spoke up in his head: You could turn her. The chip doesn’t work on her. We could have her forever. But as rapidly as that thought arrived, it was banished. Couldn’t put her through that. Dust myself first rather than that. She stirred and rolled over in her sleep, and he spooned up behind her. She pressed herself back into his chest and settled back into her dreaming.   He buried his face in her hair and reveled in her scent. God as my witness, Slayer, I’m going to keep you alive as long as I can. Don’t care if I dust in the process. You’re going to be the first Slayer in history to die of old age if I have any say in the matter. With that he closed his eyes and dozed as well.   **************************   Buffy finally woke up around six in the morning. She found that Spike’s arms had crept around her again. She turned over to face him, trying and failing not to wake him. His eyes blinked open as he whispered, “How’d you sleep, pet?”   “Like a rock,” Buffy answered, yawning. Then she looked more closely at him. “Your face! It’s nearly back to normal!” she proclaimed happily.   Spike closed his good eye and looked around. “Vision’s back too. Can’t tell you how annoying that’s been.” He kissed her gently and stroked her face. “Thanks for the blood. Slayer’s the best medicine out there for an injured vamp.”   As Buffy returned the kiss, a thought suddenly popped into her head. “Spike? Your chip hasn’t been firing, has it?”   Spike stopped cold. “It doesn’t seem to be working on you, pet,” he admitted.   “Does it work on anyone else?”   Spike thought for a moment. “Well, it fired when Harris was trying to stake me in the church, so I guess it works on him at least.”   A concerned look rippled across Buffy’s face. “Do you… does that mean there’s something wrong with me?”   “Hey, none of that now,” Spike shushed her. “Nothing wrong with you that I can see. Maybe it’s because I don’t actually want to hurt you. Maybe it’s a side effect of the spell. Personally,” he started nibbling gently at her neck, “I am calling it a welcome change and leaving it at that.”   Buffy closed her eyes and sighed. Really hard to argue with this man when he’s doing that. “As much as I would like to follow that line of thought,” she said at last, “I need to think about getting up. That parenting class is at eight o’clock.”   Spike nibbled a little further, coming to rest on one rosy nipple and teasing it gently with his tongue. Buffy gave a little gasp of pleasure, then reluctantly, but firmly detached herself from Spike. “If I don’t get up now, I am never going to be able to.” Spike stuck his lip out in a deliciously sexy pout, but let her go, leaning back with his hands behind his head, showing off his sculpted body. “I’ll be waiting for you, Slayer,” he purred enticingly. With an incredible effort, Buffy tore herself away and went to get ready. Spike watched her as she fixed her hair and dressed, and then accepted a last deep kiss from her before she went downstairs for her breakfast. Spike rolled over and fell asleep with a smile playing about his lips.   ***********************   The day passed relatively quickly for Spike. He woke up around three o’clock, had some blood, and sat down to watch Passions. Becoming a lazy house vamp, William. Your reputation will be shot even further to hell if you keep this up, he said ruefully to himself. He mulled it over, and decided that he could probably live with it.   As the show came to an end, the doorbell rang. Spike jumped up and turned off the TV. He cautiously looked through the window to see who was on the doorstep – he didn’t want any Social Services types catching him and causing trouble for Buffy. He relaxed when he saw that it was Tara. Opening the door, he said, “Glinda? What can I do for you? Lady of the house isn’t home just now.”   “H..hello, Spike,” Tara said nervously. “I was in the area, and I just wanted to ask how Buffy was doing.”   “Come in for a moment,” Spike said, stepping back. Tara entered, and Spike could see that she was not a happy person. “What is it, Glinda? What’s wrong?”   “I... I’ve broken things off with Willow. For a while at least,” she stuttered.   Spike was shocked. “What brought this on?”   “After she did that last spell on Buffy we had a huge fight. She used a spell to try to erase my memory of the fight, and I found out. I told her I couldn’t stay unless she quit using magic without people’s consent.”   Spike whistled. “Red’s got a problem.” Tara nodded sadly in agreement. “Is Buffy in danger? Is she going to try something else?”   “I don’t know,” said Tara. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know. I just wanted to know that Buffy was ok, and to let you know to keep your eyes open.”   “Appreciate that,” Spike replied. “Buffy is doing fine. She’s off taking those parenting classes or whatever they’re called today. Last night was a little rough.”   “Why?”   “Harris called Angel, who called Buffy, who got pissed off and destroyed an innocent telephone.” And then got shagged senseless by yours truly, but you don’t need to know that.   Tara sighed, “I told them that was a bad idea. But Xander’s got this bug in his ear about you living here, and he won’t let it go.”   “Glinda,” Spike began, “I love her. I’ll do anything I can to protect her and Dawn. Won’t hurt her, won’t leave her, and won’t let anyone else hurt her either. If you see Harris, try to get it through his thick cranium that he is causing her more grief than all the vamps in Sunnydale right now. She just needs to work things out in her own time, and all this butting in isn’t helping in the slightest.”   “I believe you, Spike,” said Tara gently. “And I’ll do what I can to run interference with the rest. Just… take care of Buffy and Dawn. They need someone.”   “I’ll do my best,” Spike agreed. “And I’d like to thank you for helping us find Dawn. Really helped to be able to explain things to her.”   “Glad to help,” Tara said, smiling. Then she said her goodbyes and left, with Spike closing the door behind her.   Spike busied himself for the next hour or so tidying up a bit, and sharpening Buffy’s collection of swords and axes. He found the snick of the blades against the sharpening stone soothing as he contemplated the current state of things. Which of these Scoobies is going to fuck with Buffy next? Buffy’s gonna snap if they don’t get off her back. He found himself increasingly irritated at the lot of them. He needed some action in the worst way – his demon was getting frustrated and restless. He was grateful when Buffy came home around sunset.   “Um, planning some violence?” Buffy asked as she saw Spike honing the blade of her best battleaxe.   “Just figured I’d sharpen some things,” he said, twirling the axe with skilled hands. “Could really use a patrol though – getting antsy around here.”   “Me too,” said Buffy. “My god those parenting classes were boring. I was the youngest person there by about 15 years, and the instructor droned on in front of about 10,000 slides until I thought I was going to pass out drooling on the desk. Let me go change out of these ‘sensible guardian’ clothes and we’ll go.”   Buffy ran upstairs and quickly returned wearing jeans and a tight pink shirt that made Spike whistle appreciatively. “You do know how to get a guy’s motor revving, Slayer.”   “Down boy. Patrol first.”   Spike pretended to be abashed. “Yes ma’am.” Then he grinned and they grabbed some stakes and left.   It was a bad night to be a demon in Sunnydale. Buffy and Spike were beautifully matched, both at full strength and both itching for a fight. They came across a nest of a dozen vampires in an old warehouse and took them out in what looked like an orchestrated ballet. They found two horned demons in the woods, preparing for some sort of ritual, and dispatched them with such ferocity that scavengers would probably be finding demon parts for a week. “There’s something strangely therapeutic about slaying,” Buffy commented as they brushed off their hands and clothes and continued on their way.   “Gotta admit that it helped over the summer,” Spike mused. “Think the killing and the whiskey were about even in the race for drug of choice.”   Buffy glanced sidelong at Spike. “Spike, I’ve been wondering about something since that night in the church.”   “Yeah?”   Buffy stopped, and Spike turned to face her. “Were you… what were you going to do, after I went back?”   Spike laughed ruefully. “Sussed me out, did you?” He ran his hand along her hair. “I admit, I was contemplating using your stake as my ticket out of here. Glad it didn’t come to that.”   “Don’t you ever think like that again,” Buffy admonished. “Even if some demon gets me tomorrow.”   “Don’t even say that!” Spike barked, a little more forcefully than he intended. Buffy jumped a bit, wide eyed. Spike took her hands and continued, in a softer voice, “I know… I know that you’re going to leave me someday. I’m immortal, you’re not. ‘S the way it goes. But I intend to make sure that you become the first slayer to be eligible for social security, alright?”   Buffy melted at the sight of the love that radiated from his eyes. He meant every word. She reached up to kiss him, slowly and tenderly. Her kiss and her shining eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was his, plain and simple.   A rustling in the bushes broke the lovers apart, as they looked up to see three vampires coming up to them. Buffy and Spike rolled their eyes at the stupidity of the local demon population, pulled out stakes, and grinning went to work once more.   After another hour of patrolling, they were out of things to slay, and found themselves walking hand in hand along the streets of Sunnydale. When Spike realized they were approaching the Bronze, he said, “Fancy a bit of refreshment, love?”   “Most definitely,” Buffy agreed. They went inside and found a familiar table under the stairs. “Remember when you and I had that conversation about the past slayers here?”   “Yeah. Nice that you’re not sporting a great big abdominal wound this time. Wouldn’t match your outfit,” joked Spike.   “Very funny,” Buffy retorted. “Now be a good creature of darkness and get me a drink. And some food – I’m starved.”   “Bossy little bint, aren’t you?” Spike asked good-naturedly. He made his way to the bar and returned with two beers and an order of buffalo wings. “Cheers, Slayer,” he said, toasting her. They sipped their beers and munched in companionable silence for a while, listening to the music and watching the crowd. Apparently their killing spree had been remarked upon, as there were no vampires trolling for victims tonight. Usually the Bronze was good for at least one a night. It seemed to be 80’s night, based on the music that was playing. After a while, a slower song came on: Billy Idol’s “Eyes Without a Face”.   “You know we’ve got to dance to this one, Mister ‘Billy Idol got the idea from me’,” Buffy said, getting up and taking Spike’s hand. He followed her onto the dance floor and wrapped his hands around her slim hips. She was surprised to find that he was a good dancer – none of the men she had dated previously had been into dancing at all. He rested his forehead on hers as they locked eyes and swayed gracefully. They were so focused on each other that they completely failed to realize they were being watched.   Xander and Anya had been at the Bronze for a while. Anya fervently wished that Xander would just let the whole Buffy thing go already. He had been brooding and sulking about it for days now. “She won’t even speak to us!” he had said earlier that evening, for the 95th time. “She could at least let us try to explain. We weren’t trying to hurt her, we didn’t know…” Finally, Anya had suggested going to the Bronze as a way to at least get him to sulk somewhere other than their apartment. Hello? Girlfriend here? Really wish you would spend a little less time worrying about another woman! They had been thinking about heading home when Xander saw the blond couple swaying on the dance floor.   “She seems to be feeling fine now!” he snorted. “Look at them! How can she be dancing with that… thing!”   Rolling her eyes, Anya tried once more to reason with Xander. “I am looking at them, Xander. And to me, Buffy looks happy. She doesn’t look like she’s in pain, and she isn’t throttling someone, so what is the problem?”   Xander was about to answer when Spike spun Buffy around playfully so that now her back was to Xander and Anya. Her hair fell away from her neck to reveal the obvious bite marks marring her smooth skin. Xander’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “No wonder she’s not in pain anymore! The son of a bitch turned her!”   “What?” cried Anya. “Xander that’s crazy. He’s got that chip in his head still, and she’s the Slayer, if you haven’t forgotten.”   Spike looked up, having heard Anya’s voice, if not the words. “Trouble, pet,” he murmured. “Harris is over there with Demon Girl, and based on the look on his face he has a bit of an issue with us dancing together.”   Buffy sighed and leaned her head on Spike’s shoulder. “Can we leave? Really don’t want to spoil the night by arguing with Xander.”   “Off we go then,” Spike said. He turned and led Buffy through the crowd and out the door. Xander leaped up and went to follow them, trailed by Anya.   “Xander, I’m telling you, she is not a vampire!” Anya insisted.   “I can’t think of any other reason why Buffy would be behaving like that with him.”   Spike and Buffy had gotten out into the alley at that point. “Thanks,” Buffy said gratefully. “I was really enjoying the dance though.”   Spike wrapped his arms around her again. “Nothing preventing us from going home and dancing all night,” he growled seductively. He pulled her into a long, deep kiss. Buffy laughed, kissed him back, and then headed down the alley with her arm around his waist.   Xander had gone back to his car, trailed by Anya who was desperately trying to get him to see reason. “Xander! Will you please just stop and think about this? Even if Buffy is a vampire, which I doubt, how are you going to go after the two of them?”   Xander kept rummaging in his trunk until he pulled out two crossbows. “With these,” he replied. One of the side effects of being a Scoobie was being in the habit of keeping weapons close to hand. Xander got behind the wheel and put the crossbows next to him. Anya reluctantly climbed into the passenger side as Xander started the car and headed off after Spike and Buffy.   Spike and Buffy rounded the corner onto Revello Drive, still with their arms around each other. Spike had been teasing her and whispering to her all the way home, and she found herself nearly moaning in anticipation. She was in the process of attempting to nibble his ear when she heard a voice yell, “That’s far enough!”   They looked up to see Xander, with a loaded crossbow in each hand, appearing out from behind his parked car. Buffy was instantly pissed. “Xander? What the fuck are you doing here?”   “Trying to keep the two of you from turning Sunnydale into your own personal diner!” Xander responded.   “What?” Spike and Buffy yelled together. They were both totally confused as to what he was getting at.   “I saw the bite marks, Buffy!” Xander cried. “I saw the way you two were dancing together! He turned you, didn’t he?”   “Xander have you completely lost your mind?” Buffy said, moving toward him.   “Don’t come any closer!” Xander squeaked. His hands were shaking with the effort of holding the crossbows. When Spike shifted slightly to one side, Xander panicked and raised the weapon toward him. As Buffy cried, “Xander, no!” his finger slipped, and the crossbow fired.   TBC

Chapter #16 - Chapter 16

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, I just play with them. Continued thanks for the continued reviews!   **************************   The combination of two creatures with supernatural speed was all that saved Spike. His quick reflexes as he tried to jump out of the way meant that the bolt now buried in his chest had missed his heart by a mere 2 inches. Buffy, for her part had launched herself at Xander and tackled him to the ground, knocking both crossbows out of his hands. She slammed her fist into his face. “What the FUCK are you doing?” she screamed. She punched him again and again, beyond caring what she was doing. His nose broke, and he felt a few teeth loosen as her relentless onslaught pounded him into the ground.   “Buffy, stop, please, don’t kill him!” Anya screamed. Her usually harsh, blunt voice was broken with fear.   Buffy paused in her rage, but did not get off him. “Why are you trying to kill Spike?” Buffy demanded of the battered man in front of her. She cocked her fist back, ready to pound him again if necessary.   “He… thought he… turned you,” Xander gasped out. “Your neck… and you were dancing with him…”   “So ever hear about asking before staking?” Buffy cried. She hauled him off the ground by his collar, his head lolling as he fought to stay conscious. “I let him drink from me to heal the wounds that you gave him. I was dancing with him because I happen to love him, Xander.” She dropped him back on the ground with contempt and stood up.   “You… what?” Xander spluttered. “But Angel said…”   “Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me.” She hauled off and kicked him in the ribs. He curled up on the ground, moaning and gasping for breath. “That’s for calling Angel, which I did NOT need.”   She turned to Spike, who was slowly getting up, having pulled the bolt painfully out of his chest. He was bleeding rather profusely, and was obviously in pain, the stake having gone nearly all the way through to his back. “Stupid wanker,” he growled. “Can’t just mind your own fucking business, can you. Kick you myself if not for this goddamn chip.” He swayed unsteadily, leaning against a tree for support.   “Spike, honey, are you ok?” Buffy asked, concerned. She winced as she took in the wound. She turned back to look at Xander. Anya had come to his side. She turned to Buffy and pleaded, “Please don’t kill him. I know he’s been an ass. I told him to leave you be, but he’s so stubborn sometimes. But please, don’t kill him.”   “I don’t plan to kill him, so long as he stays out of my life,” Buffy responded. She stood over Xander, whose eyes were nearly swollen shut. He cringed painfully away from her, terrified. “I’m going to speak slowly in the hopes that you will finally get it. Spike. Is. My. Lover. He didn’t turn me. He loves me, and he cares for me, and you will NEVER touch him again.” Buffy turned and put her arms around Spike, letting him lean on her as they walked into the house.   *********************   Inside, Spike sagged onto the couch the moment they got into the living room. He was bleeding everywhere and looked even paler than usual. Buffy ran to get some towels to soak things up. She helped him out of his shirt and gasped. Oh my god another inch and he’d be gone. Biting back tears she pressed the towel to his wound. “Hold this,” she said. Spike complied best he could while she ran to get some bandages and a cup of blood. “Drink this,” she ordered as she took over staunching the blood and started to bandage him up. He managed to get the blood down while she worked frantically, almost manically, until the wound was covered and the bleeding stopped.   “Thanks, love,” Spike croaked as she finished. “It’s ok. You can stop.” Buffy was still hovering, her hands shaking as she cleaned up the mess and packed up the first aid supplies. “Buffy,” Spike said in a lower voice.   She stopped and looked at him. At the sight of his clear blue eyes she burst into tears. “Oh God, Spike I could have lost you!” She buried her face in her hands and wept, shaking uncontrollably at the thought. Having to face all this alone oh no, no can’t even think of it…   Despite his injury, Spike leaned forward and tugged at Buffy’s hands. He tenderly guided her up onto the couch beside him and held her, rocking her and soothing her as if she were the injured one. In a way she is, he thought, only her wounds aren’t so visible. “I’m ok, pet. Shhh. I’m not going anywhere. Takes more than that idiot Harris to take out William the Bloody.”   Buffy wept and wept in Spike’s arms, as if she could never stop. The night had been so perfect, so right, and then they came so fucking close to disaster. Is this going to keep happening? Every time I feel happy does something bad have to happen? Why? Do I have some sort of gypsy curse or something? She clung to Spike like a drowning person, unable to stop shaking for a long, long time.   Buffy finally ran out of tears and attempted to get her breathing somewhat under control. “You back with me, Slayer?” Spike asked softly.   “Yeah,” Buffy sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve.   “Let’s go find somewhere softer to be, okay?” Buffy nodded in agreement. She got up and extended a hand to Spike, who accepted it gratefully. “Moving like an old man here,” he groaned ruefully.   “Well, I guess you are pretty old,” said Buffy, smiling a little. “Heard that,” Spike muttered. She put her arm around Spike’s waist and walked up the stairs with him. He was still a bit unsteady on his feet from the blood loss. He sat down, groaning, on the end of the bed.   Buffy gently pushed him back onto the pillow. “You’ve been taking care of me for a couple weeks now. Let me take care of you,” she said warmly. She slowly untied his battered Doc Martens one by one and pulled them off. She removed his socks, and lovingly massaged his cool white feet for a minute or two, while Spike closed his eyes and purred. Slowly she ran her hands up his legs to his waist, resolving never to take this beautiful body of his for granted again. His eyes drifted half open as she worked his belt open and delicately pulled his zipper down. He obliged by lifting his hips slightly as she pulled his jeans down and off, revealing his rapidly growing erection surrounded by soft brown curls. Buffy climbed back up on the bed beside him, never ceasing her feathery caresses on every inch of his skin. The next time her roaming hands drifted near his cock, she grasped the base of it in her warm little hand and took him into her mouth.   Spike closed his eyes and hissed with pleasure as she slowly explored with her lips and tongue. She gradually got into a delicious rhythm, collapsing her cheeks as she moved upwards and stroking with maddeningly gentle fingers everywhere her tongue couldn’t reach. Spike buried his hands in her hair groaning, “Slayer… your mouth… so sweet… ah fuck!” She picked up the pace, bobbing her head and stroking faster and stronger until at last Spike cried out, “God, Buffy yes don’t stop don’t…” With a violent shudder he shot into her throat, and she swallowed him down.   Buffy sat up, smiling and licking her lips. “Like that?”   “Like you need to ask, bloody woman,” Spike gasped. “Christ, Buffy, that was amazing.”   Buffy stretched out next to him and maneuvered them both under the covers. She put her head close to his and wrapped her arm around him, careful to avoid his bandages. “Love you, Spike,” she whispered. “Don’t think I could have survived all this without you.”   “We’re a team pet,” Spike said, kissing her gently. “We save each other.” Buffy reached over and turned off the light, and they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.   ************   Buffy was up and dressed before Spike, having another day of parenting classes to deal with. After she ate her breakfast, she heated up a cup of blood and brought it up to him. “Spike! Wake up and drink this, ok?”   Spike blinked blearily and sat up. “Thanks, love,” he said, accepting the mug gratefully. “Off to learn more parenting tricks?”   “Guess so,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes. “You need anything before I go?”   “I’m all set, love.” Buffy leaned in to kiss him, then hurried out the door.   Spike finished the cup of blood and experimentally prodded his wounded chest. Still hurt like a son of a bitch, but it seemed to be mending. He got out of bed slowly and looked around for the second bag of things he had brought from his crypt. He found it on the floor of Buffy’s closet, and rummaged around in it until he found an old black silk robe with a gold pattern of small diamond shapes. It was a bit worn around the edges, but he found it incredibly comfortable. Truth be told, he preferred walking around naked, but if he was going to be hanging around the house with the Bit in residence, he had to cover up with something. He dragged out the rest of the duffel. A few more clothes were stashed in the witches’ room where Buffy had carved out a drawer for him. His collection of jewelry and such he stashed in one of the small drawers in the wardrobe in that room. He then brought out a stack of paper in a beat up leather portfolio, tied with a faded ribbon. It contained poems, old pictures, and other mementos from his past. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Buffy reading these. Some of the poetry was embarrassingly awful. Some of the pictures of Drusilla and Angelus would probably raise some eyebrows. But yet, he needed these reminders of who he had been, what he had done.   Spike went into the hallway and looked up. Sure enough, there was a pull down ladder into the attic – he had never paid much attention to it before, being much more interested in getting into the Slayer’s bedroom. He unfolded the stairs and went up, carefully avoiding the small patch of sunlight in the middle of the room courtesy of the window in the far wall. He stashed his portfolio in a corner behind some dusty boxes. It would be safe there, and it was unlikely that the Summers girls would find it. Spike looked around at the boxes and other articles stored up here. He smiled at a box of girl’s clothing that Joyce had clearly saved to remind herself of Buffy’s babyhood. Hard to imagine that the tiny dresses and bonnets had ever been worn by the spitfire who had beaten her former best friend to a pulp and then treated him to the most sublime blow job of his life. He rummaged through another box and found it to be full of skating trophies and ribbons. He trailed his fingers over a picture of Buffy at age 11 or so, striking a pose in her skating costume. So this was the big scary Slayer as a girl. Always was a pretty thing. He spent a couple of hours wandering through the attic. Joyce’s old LP’s turned out to be a stellar collection of music from the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. I’ll be damned. She had a copy of London Calling. Always knew I liked her. Finally, his stomach growled a bit, reminding him that he was still drained from the night before, and he went back downstairs.   He saw that the mail had been dropped through the slot, and noticed a thick envelope addressed to ‘William Pratt, c/o Buffy Summers’. He tore it open and found the documents he had paid for. There was a British passport, a green card, and a California driver’s license, all with his name and smirking image. His birthday was correct – June 21 – but the year was a much more believable 1970. Well what do you know. I’ve gone and become a real boy or something. He went back up stairs and tucked it all in among his clothes in the drawer.   He spent the rest of the day on the couch, watching TV and dozing. His wound was healing, but it had been pretty deep, so it was definitely taking its time. By the time Buffy came home at 5:30, he had finished nearly all the blood she had bought the day before, and was feeling more like his old self. “Evening, Slayer,” he said as she entered, tossing her purse on the coffee table.   She flopped down on the couch next to him and put her feet up. “Four classes down, one more to go tomorrow. I can’t believe how much there is to say about raising teens. I mean, I would think it was ‘Go to school, do your homework, don’t get pregnant’ and we’re done.”   Spike chuckled. “Don’t look at me, love. Trying to keep Dawn out of trouble over the summer was enough.”   After resting with her head on Spike’s shoulder for a few minutes Buffy got up and went to the phone. “I am dying for a pizza. Any preferences?”   “Whatever suits you,” Spike responded. Buffy ordered a vegetarian special and hung up, while Spike sauntered into the kitchen.   “Mmm. Just noticed the sexy robe,” she said, running her hands along his silk covered back as she kissed him.   “Figured I shouldn’t be running around starkers when the Bit comes home,” he remarked.   “How are we going to work that?” Buffy asked. “I mean, do we share a room? Is that going to traumatize her for life?”   “You have been taking classes,” Spike laughed. “You know Bit won’t be traumatized. She’s tickled pink to have us together. We should probably keep the volume down when she’s home, but she has to go to school some time…” He nibbled gently at her ear, causing a sweet shiver down her spine.   “You wait for the pizza guy, I’m going to go slip into something more comfortable, as they say,” said Buffy as she reluctantly broke away. Spike poured out the last of the blood into a mug and heated it up while Buffy went upstairs. She came down wearing sweats and a tank top just as the doorbell was ringing. She paid for the pizza and brought it out onto the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the rug and digging in.   “Mmm,” she said. “Do you know, I haven’t had pizza since I got back? I forgot how good it is.”   “Are things getting less painful for you, sensation-wise?” Spike asked.   “Little by little,” replied Buffy. “I find some sounds to still be incredibly painful, and I find myself panicking sometimes for no really good reason. Like today, at the class, one of the other folks there asked me how old my kid was and I just had this moment of ‘Ohmygod! How old is Dawn? If I take too long to answer are they going to think I don’t care?’ It came out fine of course, but I just keep having little moments like that.”   “It’ll come in time,” Spike reassured her. They munched a bit more pizza as some old movie played in the background.   “Spike?”   “Yeah?”   “What was it like the first time you saw a car?”   Spike took another bite of pizza and thought about that for a moment. “Was about 1910 or so. We were in Germany. They were just starting to come out with them. Course it was only for the rich, but they were starting to pop up here and there. Basically looked like big horse drawn things without the horse.”   “What did you think of them?” Buffy was looking at him in a way that reminded him of a child enjoying a bedtime story. He found it incredibly charming.   “Wanted to know how they worked,” Spike answered. “Finally got the chance to try one after Drusilla and I ate some rich guy one night.”   Buffy frowned. “Not sure how the Slayer is supposed to live with someone who starts every story by eating someone.”   “’S my nature, love,” said Spike. “It’s who I am. Just like being the Slayer is who you are. Angel could try to deny what he’d been before the soul, but I can’t. Won’t kill people anymore – you have my word. Even if the chip stopped working tomorrow. Wouldn’t do anything to make you have to take me out. But if you want to hear about my past, well, killing was a big part of it.”   Buffy was quiet for a while, chewing her pizza thoughtfully. “Guess all my battle stories end with ‘and then they all turned to dust’. Not really in a position to throw stones, now that I think about it.”   “But you wouldn’t go out and slay my friend Clem would you? Even if he is a demon?”   “Of course not!” Buffy said indignantly. “Clem’s sweet and harmless. Not an evil bone in his body!’   “Well, some slayers would. To them a demon’s a demon. Other slayers probably would have staked me or left me to fry in the sun when I showed up starving on your doorstep with this chip in my skull. You didn’t. We’re different, you and I.”   Buffy was amazed at his insight. “When did you become a philosopher?” she inquired.   Spike shrugged, “Dunno. Don’t think I am really. Just… figured out some things over about 150 bottles of whiskey this summer.”   Buffy felt a pang of pity, thinking about how lonely Spike had been. She understood that feeling, being apart and alone, even in a group. She reached out across the coffee table and took his hand, clasping it gently in a gesture of love and understanding. She got up and sat next to him on the sofa, snuggling next to him on his uninjured side. “Want to finish your story?” she asked.   Spike smiled and continued, “I climbed right up into the driver’s seat, fiddled around with it forever until I got the damn thing started, then promptly crashed it into a tree.”   Buffy burst into a fit of giggles. “Really? Mister ‘Me and My Desoto’?”   Spike was slightly indignant. “Not like I had ever driven one before. I felt pretty good just getting it going – t’wasn’t easy with the crank starters and all that. Later, once I got the hang of it, I thought they were incredible. They were nowhere near as fast as they are now, but compared to horses they flew.” Spike paused in his reminiscing to look at Buffy. “Why the trip down memory lane, love?”   Buffy shrugged. “It occurred to me while I was a ghost that you must have seen a whole lot of interesting stuff in your time. At the time, it seemed a shame that I wouldn’t be able to ask you about it.”   Spike put his arms around her and cuddled her close. “You make me so happy, Buffy,” he said simply. “I don’t deserve any of this. I’m a monster. But by God you’ve made me into a man.”   “You’ve proved yourself, time and again, Spike,” said Buffy, turning and caressing his face. “I’ve never had anyone in my life who was such a… a partner. Not just a friend, or a mentor, or a boyfriend but an equal partner.”   “Partner,” Spike echoed. “Good word for it, pet.” Then he kissed her and words went out the window for the rest of the evening.   TBC

Chapter #17 - Chapter 17

Disclaimer: All the vampires belong to Joss Whedon. Thank you again, oh great reviewers!   ****************   Buffy groaned as the alarm clock woke her the next morning. What sort of sadist schedules a class for eight o’clock on a Saturday? Spike rolled over and opened his eyes. “Last day of this, love?”   “Yes, thank God. Then we’ve got the inspector coming this afternoon.”   “I’ll do my best to get stuff tidied up before you come home,” Spike said, planting kisses down her arm.   “Do you mind hauling the weapons chest down to the basement? If we stick it in with the pile of boxes in the corner it won’t be so conspicuous. Don’t really need them asking why I have an inordinate number of sharp pointy things.”   “Will do love,” Spike replied. He gave her one last kiss, then got up to join her in the shower. There was no time for anything exciting, but they enjoyed the sensation of each other’s hands soaping up their naked bodies. With regret, Buffy turned off the shower after rinsing her hair, and they toweled off.   “Spike?”   “Yeah?”   “How do you bleach your hair, without being able to see it?” Buffy was in the process of dealing with her own snarls and tangles.   “Demon barber I know does it for me. I can do it myself, but I worry about missing spots in the back.” Spike ran a comb through his blond curls and then rummaged under the sink for his hair gel.   “What is it with you vampires and the hair gel?” Buffy teased.   “Gotta look my best to attract my prey,” Spike growled and nibbled at her neck. Buffy giggled, swatted him, then dashed out of the bathroom to finish getting dressed. Spike found himself grinning like a madman. But after a moment the demon in his mind popped up with only a matter of time, mate. You’ll revert to type, and it’ll be all over. His grin faded. He leaned heavily on the sink for a moment. It was true – the hunger never really went away. Last night he had drunk from Buffy again while she rode him, sitting on his lap all wrapped around him like a vine. It had been utterly intoxicating, but he had had to make a Herculean effort to stop from taking too much. It had definitely helped heal the chest wound. But he knew it was a slippery slope. She was as much of an addiction as whiskey or cigarettes, and his demon craved her, craved the sweet coppery tang of her, the same way the man craved the warm moist folds of her sex.   He took a deep breath and straightened up, finishing his hair and shaking off his misgivings. I love her. I’ll not hurt her. If it means I never drink from her again, so be it. With new resolve, he went to find his own clothes and joined Buffy in the kitchen.   Buffy had made two omelets, and had poured a mug of blood for Spike. “Didn’t know you knew how to make these, Slayer,” he commented as he sat down and dug in.   “I picked up the occasional domestic skill in between killing things in the night,” Buffy responded as she sat down to her breakfast.   “What’s the schedule of the day?” Spike asked.   “I got this class from eight until noon,” said Buffy around a mouthful of omelet. “The home inspection thingy is at around two or so.”   “I’ll haul those weapons downstairs for you and make sure all my stuff is stashed,” Spike offered.   “Thanks, babe,” Buffy said. Spike smiled at the term of endearment. They made short work of breakfast and cleared their places. “I’m off to the land of the unfit mothers,” said Buffy. She gave Spike a long kiss goodbye, and then she was off.   Bloody domesticated, that’s what you are, he thought as he did the dishes. His Big Bad ego was starting to protest a bit at the arrangement – William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, doing the Slayer’s household chores. But then he thought about what she looked like, lying beneath him, right before she came. Loveliest thing in all the world, that, he thought. Admit it, William the Bloody, you’ll do damn near anything to stay in her bed. It was true. She had him, literally and figuratively, by the short hairs. Best enjoy it then, he resolved.   He went through the house, scooping up odd stakes and crossbows and dumping them all in the weapons chest. He hefted it easily and put it in the basement, piling some boxes on top of it. They could get to it reasonably quickly in an emergency, but it wasn’t going to call attention to itself. Spike looked around the basement thoughtfully. Could probably recreate a lot of the training room at the Magic Box down here. Give the Slayer a place to work out. He tucked that idea away for future use.   Going back upstairs, he looked around for other out of place or suspicious things. Joyce had had a small liquor cabinet. There were a few bottles of wine, and a mostly empty bottle of scotch. He drained the scotch, enjoying it thoroughly before stuffing the empty bottle in the bottom of the trash. Not like Buffy would ever drink it. Besides, I’ve been on the wagon since she got back.   Up in Buffy’s room he changed the sheets and tidied up all the dirty laundry. There was no sign of his presence that he could see. He did wish he could open the window – to his vampire senses it was very, very obvious that someone had had lots of sex in this room recently. But perhaps it wasn’t so obvious to people. Have to ask the Slayer.   After throwing the sheets in the wash, he got the remaining blood out of the fridge and drank it for a midmorning snack. Probably not the best thing to have in the fridge when the inspectors come. He cleaned up after himself, and then spent the next couple hours listening to the radio while he did this and that around the house.   Buffy got home shortly before one, bearing more groceries. “I figured in case they open the fridge, it should be obvious that I’m not starving anyone around here.” Spike helped her get things put away, and then pulled her into an embrace.   “You need to relax, pet,” he said firmly. “Everything is going to be fine. Dawn’ll be back home before you know it.”   “Just having one of those little panic moments again,” she sighed. “Getting really tired of it. They pass quickly enough, but I feel like I can’t breathe, or like I’m going to explode.”   Spike kissed her tenderly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, love. Not like there’s a manual on how to come back from beyond the grave. You’re doing as well as could be expected.”   “Thanks, Spike,” she said. Then kissing him once more, she looked around the kitchen. “Is everything put away you think?” she asked as she started wandering around the house. Her jaw dropped as she looked around. The house was immaculate. Everything was arranged like a magazine photo or something. She went upstairs and looked all over in awe. “Is this my house? Did I fall into some alternate dimension?”   Spike laughed, “Don’t go expecting this every day, Slayer. This was a one-time only, ‘Get Nibblet Back’ special event. I’m the Slayer of Slayers, not a bloody maid.”   “Well, you could be one of those guys who cleans in the nude…” Buffy’s response was interrupted by the doorbell. Her eyes got wide. “Shit! They’re here early! You need to hide somewhere…”   Spike shushed her. “Go answer the door. I’ll make myself scarce, don’t worry.”   Fighting back the panic, Buffy nodded and went downstairs to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to find Ms. Davis and a bespectacled man on the porch. “Hello Ms. Davis, won’t you come in?” she asked politely, trying to keep her voice steady.   “Thank you Ms. Summers. This is my colleague Mr. Morton,” said Ms. Davis. Buffy shook his hand firmly. “Shall we get started?”   “Sure,” Buffy replied. “What would you like to see?”   “Well, I always like to start at the top and work my way down,” said Mr. Morton amiably. “Is that alright?”   “Umm… of course!” said Buffy brightly. Hope Spike manages to hide somewhere.   Spike heard the inspector’s comment and dashed into the bathroom, slipping behind the door. He heard Buffy say, “This is Dawn’s room here.” He peered out and noticed them following her into Dawn’s bedroom. He slipped out and silently dashed down the hall and crept down the stairs. Still using all of his supernatural stealth, he quietly eased the basement door open and disappeared downstairs, figuring that the basement would be low on their list of places to inspect.   Buffy hid her nervousness as best as she could as she led the inspectors next into what had been the witches’ room. “Who sleeps here?” asked Ms. Davis.   “This had been where my friends were staying,” Buffy admitted. “But they’re not here anymore – I asked them to move out.”   Mr. Morton looked doubtful. But he opened the wardrobe and found it mostly empty, and peered in the closet and found it contained only a long leather coat. “Good place for extra storage now, eh?” he said amiably, satisfied that no one else was actually living here.   Spike’s duster! Glad they didn’t think anything of it. Buffy clenched her fists trying to keep the panic attack at bay. She took another deep breath. ”My room is over here,” she offered, leading them across the hall.   They looked around, and Ms. Davis noticed her collection of crosses hanging on the jewelry tree on her dresser. “I didn’t know you were religious,” she remarked.   “I… try to keep an open mind about faith,” she said noncommittally.   They proceeded downstairs to the first floor, where the inspectors were pleased to find the tidy, well stocked kitchen and the attractive living room and dining room. Buffy, on her part, was a bit perplexed about where Spike had gotten to, but then she noticed that the basement door was slightly ajar. Leave it to the crypt dweller to hide down there.   Ms. Davis was obviously pleased. “You’ve really turned things around, Ms. Summers. I am amazed at how quickly you responded to our concerns.”   “I just want my sister back,” Buffy said honestly. “We’re all the family we’ve got, and I really miss her.”   “Well, I believe I’m satisfied. Mr. Morton?” Ms. Davis inquired of her co-worker.   “What’s through this door?” he asked, indicating the door to the basement.   “That’s the basement. We mostly use it for storage.” For example, right now I am storing a vampire so could you please just not go down there?   “Mind if I just take a peek?”   Buffy’s heart sank. “Y…Yes of course. It’s pretty dark down there, so watch your step.”   Spike heard the entire exchange and looked around for a place to hide. Quickly he dived behind a few boxes in the darkest corner under the stairs, just as the door opened and the light came on. Mr. Morton came down, followed apprehensively by Buffy. The inspector stopped in the middle of the floor and looked around. Apparently he saw nothing more than a washer and dryer, and a lot of boxes, because after a few minutes he followed Buffy back upstairs and shut the door. This game of cat and mouse is getting a little old, mate, Spike fumed silently from his uncomfortable position.   Upstairs, Mr. Morton was saying, “It seems you have a very nice home here, and that you have addressed all our concerns. I believe we can both recommend that your sister be returned to you as soon as possible.”   “Really?” Buffy exclaimed. “Oh thank you so much. When can she come home?”   “I’ll take care of the paperwork tonight – I have to go in to the office for something else anyway,” said Ms. Davis. “She can come home tomorrow afternoon if everything goes smoothly.”   “Thank you so much!” cried Buffy, hugging the social worker impulsively. Ms. Davis smiled. She found that she rather liked Buffy, first impressions aside. She seems a totally different person than when we met that first day.   The two inspectors said goodbye and Buffy stood at the front door and waved until they drove away. She was shutting the door and was about to call for Spike when she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She whirled to find Spike right behind her, snatching her up for a hug. “You did it, Slayer!” he said happily, swinging her about. “I know you were nervous, but you kept it together.”   “She’ll be back tomorrow!” Buffy said happily, with a few tears of joy running down her cheeks. “Oh Spike, thank you so much for everything you did.”   “Love you, Buffy.” Spike felt he could never tire of saying that.   “Love you too.” Buffy kissed him deeply and then twirled around to flop on the couch. “Whew! I’m exhausted just from thinking about that all day.”   “So now what are you going to do?” Spike asked, throwing himself on the couch beside her.   “Hmmm,” said Buffy, eyeing the vampire. “I think I’ll do… you.” With an ear to ear grin, she tackled him onto the couch.   TBC

Chapter #18 - Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Buffy, Spike and the rest belong to Joss Whedon, lucky guy. Just a couple more chapters to go! ******************   About three hours later the carefully arranged living room looked a bit like a cyclone had hit it. The coffee table had been knocked over, a table lamp lay on its side, and clothing was strewn everywhere. They had come to rest on the rug, panting and content.   “Did you survive, pet?” Spike chuckled, as Buffy looked at him with half crossed eyes.   “I think so. Not sure when my legs will start working again though,” she replied. She turned over and rested her head on his chest. “You make the best pillow,” she sighed contentedly.   “Glad to oblige,” he responded. Just then there was a rumbling sound under Buffy’s ear.   “Was that your stomach?” she giggled.   “Guess so,” he answered. “I haven’t eaten in a while.”   “Are we out of blood?”   “Yeah. We’ll pick up some tonight after patrol. I’ll survive.”   “You can take a sip of Slayer, if you like,” Buffy offered, stroking his chest as she spoke.   “I may want to save that for emergencies, love,” he said reluctantly. His demon was screaming Yes! Take her. Slayer… but he forced that part of him down.   Buffy noticed a slight change in his voice. “Something wrong, Spike?”   Spike hesitated. Then he took a breath and said, “I worry that the demon’s gonna get out of control one of these days. I worry about hurting you.”   Buffy sat up and looked at him. “But even when you were wounded, you didn’t drain me or anything. Hardly even feel it.”   “I know, love,” Spike said, rising to his elbow to gaze back at her. “But your blood, it’s like a drug to a vamp. Special stuff. I just… don’t want to risk losing control. I don’t think I could live with myself if…” He trailed off, unable to even voice that fear.   Buffy kissed him. “I trust you, Spike. I believe you won’t hurt me.” Spike stroked her cheek in silent gratitude. Buffy got to her feet, and held out a hand to Spike. “Come on. After all that, I think we need some dinner and senseless violence.”   Spike laughed. “That’s my girl.”   Night had fallen, so they got dressed and went out. They grabbed dinner at a small Italian restaurant Spike knew of – “Owner’s a demon, but the man can cook,” he explained. The waiter seemed unreasonably nervous, until Spike quietly explained that the waiter was also a demon, and was justifiably worried about serving dinner to the Slayer. But Buffy smiled and made no sudden moves, and they enjoyed an excellent meal. They stopped at the butcher’s for a pint of blood for Spike, which he drank as they patrolled.   “That hit the spot,” said Spike as he finished. He was about to drop the container on the sidewalk when Buffy cleared her throat and pointed at a trash can. Sheepishly, Spike said, “Well, I am evil you know…” before throwing the container out properly.   They did their usual route through the cemeteries, enjoying themselves thoroughly. There were a number of fledglings that night, but they barely caused the blond couple to break a sweat. A couple of older vampires with a grudge against Spike tried to ambush them in an alley, but the battle was over almost before it began. Spike found he loved watching her work. Could write a twenty volume book of poetry about the way she moves. She was right – they were perfect partners. A matched set, we are.   They finished off the last of the vampires and headed home, stopping for additional supplies for Spike on the way. “I guess I’m going to have to add that to the shopping list from now on,” Buffy commented as they left the butcher again.   “Beats having to eat the Nibblet,” said Spike.   Buffy elbowed him playfully. “Umm, we didn’t go through all this trouble to bring Dawn home for you to eat. Behave, or you’ll be sleeping in the basement.”   “Not much meat on the Nibblet anyhow,” joked Spike.   Buffy was silent for a little while. “Spike?” she said thoughtfully.   “Yeah?”   “Are we… have we gone too fast in all this?” she asked nervously.   Spike froze momentarily. Knew it was too good to last. She’s not going to want you around long term.Swallowing his fear, he asked “What do you mean?”   “I just… I don’t know,” Buffy said. “The last week I’ve been happier and more secure than I ever felt with any man. But it seems that every time I start to get comfortable in my life, something bad happens. It’s always been like that. Some apocalypse, some close call. I guess this is just me being afraid of getting hurt again,” she finished quietly.   Spike stopped and turned to her. He took one of her hands and kissed it tenderly. “Look at me, Slayer.” She obeyed. “I get scared too, ok? I worry that I’m going to do something stupid to fuck this all up. I worry that I’m going to make some wrong bloody call that’s gonna lead you to toss me out on my arse, or feel you have to dust me. But what else can I do? Won’t leave you. Not going to be all noble like the Great Pouf and run off for your own good. All I can do, all we can do is try, one day at a time, to make this work.”   She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder. “I need you Spike. Please don’t let me drive you away. I can be so moody, and so closed off sometimes. Please put up with me,” she pleaded.   “You know I will,” Spike reassured her. They continued home in silence. Buffy seemed to still be lost in her thoughts as they walked. Wish I could know what was going on in that head of yours, Slayer. You seem so lost sometimes. The thoughts triggered an echo from his demonic side. We could claim her. Mate with her. She would be ours forever, her feelings laid bare to us, and ours to her. Could he ask that of her? Would she agree to it? Spike didn’t know what the answers were.   They reached the house just after midnight. For a moment, Buffy thought What happened? Who was in my house? Then she flushed as she realized that the wreckage of the living room was the fallout of another session of lovemaking with Spike. “I think we’re going to have to tone it down if we don’t want to run out of furniture,” she observed. She started to pick up the scattered parts of the living room, when Spike stopped her.   “Leave that for morning, love,” he said quietly. “Come here and sit down. I’ve… I want to talk to you.”   Buffy suppressed a moment of panic as she sat on the sofa. He’s going to leave they all leave me I’m too needy and crazy. Her voice quavered a bit as she said, “What is it?”   “Nothing bad, love, just relax,” he soothed. He sat down next to her and took her hands. “Do you know anything about claims?”   Buffy looked puzzled and shook her head. “N… no. What does that mean?”   Spike sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if Rupert taught you anything at all about vampires. A claim is a ritual vampires sometimes undergo. A mating ritual.”   “Mating ritual?” Buffy was truly perplexed now. “What do you mean?”   “When two vampires claim each other, they tie themselves together forever. They can feel each other’s emotions. Sometimes they can read each other’s minds. They are bound together in a sort of marriage that can only be broken by death.”   “Why are you telling me about this?” Buffy asked. Did he do one of these rituals with Drusilla? Does he mean he needs to leave because of some prior claim? Buffy’s brain was a whirl of insecurity and panic.   Spike heard her heartbeat quickening and realized he was somehow triggering her panic. “Easy, pet. Not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”   “You’re… you’re not going to leave, are you?” she asked shakily.   Oh, so that’s what the bint’s worried about. Spike smiled tenderly. “Never. I’ll never leave you.” He took a deep breath and said, “I’m telling you this because I want us to claim each other, if you’re willing.”   “Claim each other?” Buffy’s eyes widened. “Can we do that? I mean, I’m not a vampire.”   “I think we can, love,” Spike said. “It would come with some benefits. My demon would never be able to hurt you – a demon can’t hurt his mate. We wouldn’t have all this doubt about what the other is feeling. Probably would make fighting easier, being able to sense each other and all that.” He hesitated a moment.   “I sense a ‘but’,” Buffy said. She was staring at him intently, her expression quite unreadable.   “The downside is that the death of one partner usually means the death of the other,” he said quietly. “It would mean that if something dusts me, I’m not sure what would happen to you. I haven’t seen many mated vampires, for that reason, but the one time I saw one of a pair die, the other one just completely lost the will to live. Stopped eating, and just lay down to greet the sunrise. Don’t know if that’s something you want to sign up for.” He bit his lip and looked into her eyes, waiting for a response.   Buffy looked at their joined hands for a moment and swallowed. “Spike…” she began. She was struggling to find words.   “Buffy, it’s ok if you want to think about it, or if you don’t want to, it won’t change anything between us…”   Her finger touched his lips, silencing the stream of nervous words. “Spike, if something dusted you tomorrow, I would want to lie down and die, even without this claim thing. But are you sure that you want to be stuck with me? Forever? William the Bloody and the Slayer?”   “Never been more sure of anything before, in all my days,” Spike said, his gaze never wavering.   “Then claim me, Spike,” Buffy said, lifting one hand to cup his cheek. “Make it so I’ll never have to be alone again. I love you, so very much.”   Spike’s dead heart leaped with joy at her words. He stood up and took her hand, leading her up to what he had begun to think of as ‘their’ bedroom, just as she had led him up the first time they had made love.   He undressed her slowly, reverently, his hands caressing every inch of her as if she were the most precious thing on earth. She returned the favor, pleased to run her hands over his healed chest, his fully restored face. He guided her to the bed and lay down beside her, never ceasing to worship her body. As they kissed, Buffy paused and whispered, “How does this work?”   Spike kept kissing down her neck while he said, “I think you’ll know what to do when we get there. Just follow my lead, alright?”   “Okay,” she agreed. Spike spent what felt like hours pleasuring her with his fingers and tongue. She gasped and shuddered under his skilled hands until she was practically begging for him to enter her. When he did, it was like a key into a lock. Perfect. He’s perfect for me, like no other. As he thrust into her faster and deeper they locked eyes, concentrating all their senses on the feel, the scent, the sounds of each others’ bodies. As the climax neared Spike’s face shifted, his now yellow eyes never wavering from hers.   “Love you, Buffy Summers,” he gasped, his voice thickened by the fangs. Then he bent down and sank his fangs into her neck. After two long sips of her blood he said, “Mine. You’re mine.”   “Yours, oh God you know I’m yours,” Buffy responded. And as Spike had assured her, she suddenly realized what she needed to do. She grabbed the back of his head to pull him down, and bit his neck as hard as she could, drawing blood. She swallowed a mouthful, surprised at how natural it seemed, how right the salty taste was. “Mine!” she cried out, as her orgasm crested and her nerves all fired with the most incredible sensation of her life.   “Yours. Always. Oh Buffy, oh Christ…” Spike roared as he came, demon and man screaming with ecstasy.   They flew together for untold minutes, and they gradually felt a strange meshing of feelings. It took Buffy a moment to figure out that some of the sensations weren’t originating in her head or her body. She felt Spike come, felt the love he had for her, the contentment, the utter joy at finally having his love returned. Spike felt Buffy’s fear of abandonment receding, felt the insecurities that were so deep in her psyche, felt the power of the love she could give. Neither of them had words for what was happening to them.   When Buffy came back to herself, they were lying side by side, facing each other, panting as if they had run a marathon. They could do nothing but stare at each other, stunned and awestruck for a long, long time. Finally, Spike spoke up. “How do you feel, Buffy?”   “You tell me,” she said. They closed their eyes and probed each other’s feelings. Contentment. Peace. Joy. Love.   They opened their eyes again and smiled at each other. “I think we’re on the same page, love,” Spike said, stroking her cheek. “Thank you.”   “My pleasure,” she responded. They wrapped their arms around each other, and lay there just drinking in the sensations until they both fell asleep.   TBC

Chapter #19 - Chapter 19

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon. This is the final chapter. Thanks for sticking with it!   *********************   The phone woke Buffy the next morning. Blearily, she looked at the alarm clock. It was almost ten. She fumbled around for the phone and grabbed it. “Hello?” she mumbled sleepily.   “Good morning, Ms. Summers, it’s Ms. Davis. I hope I didn’t wake you?”   Buffy tried to shake her brain into functionality. “No Ms. Davis, just enjoying my usual Sunday paper,” she lied.   “Well,” continued the social worker. “The paperwork is almost done. We’ll be bringing Dawn home around three o’clock.”   “Really!” cried Buffy, sitting bolt upright in her excitement. “Thank you! Is there anything else I need to do?”   “You’re all set. We’ll set up a follow up meeting for two weeks from now to review how things are going, but based on what I have seen there should be no problems.”   Thanking her again, Buffy hung up. Spike had woken up next to her and was smiling at her, feeling her joy echoing over the claim. “So, we’ll have to start behaving now, hmm?” he said, raising a suggestive eyebrow.   “Well, at least until she goes to school,” Buffy leered back. “But for now, get up. We need to reassemble the living room, and I was thinking of inviting a few people over to welcome her back.”   They once again showered together, lingering much longer this time, such that it was nearly noon by the time they were downstairs. They ate a quick meal and then set to work straightening up the wreckage. “Who are we inviting over, pet?” Spike asked as they righted the coffee table.   “Well, Janice and her mom, a couple of Dawn’s other friends.”   “Do you think we should invite Tara?” Spike asked. Buffy stopped for a moment, and Spike went on, “She and the Bit got pretty close last summer – closest Dawn had to a mom while you were gone. She’s been trying to run interference with the other Scoobies, and she…”   “It’s ok, Spike. I agree.” She had reached out and felt what Spike was getting at. His concern about Tara being alone, his gratitude for the way Tara helped fix the consequences of Willow’s spells, and a genuine respect for her and her rooted use of magic.   Spike gave her a look of utter awe. Never going to get tired of this claim business, and that’s a fact. “Makes it so much easier to figure each other, doesn’t it?”   “Definitely,” Buffy agreed.   After they finished straightening up and calling up the guests for this impromptu party, Buffy decided to bake some cookies. Spike sat on the counter and watched her as she assembled ingredients and preheated the oven. “Look at you, coming over all domestic-like now that we’re mated,” he ribbed her, curling his tongue behind his teeth.   “Watch it Mister…” Buffy stopped for a moment and turned to him. “How is it that I’m effectively married to you and I don’t know your full name?” Buffy felt the embarrassment coming through their link. They couldn’t quite read each other’s thoughts yet, but she was certain that he would be blushing if he could. “Oh come on, how bad could it be?”   Spike sighed. “I was born William Henry Pratt,” he said finally.   Buffy tried her best not to giggle. “Isn’t a prat some sort of British insult or something?”   “Unfortunately, yes,” Spike growled. “Don’t you dare laugh at me you bloody woman! Had enough snickering over my name as a boy to last four centuries, thank you very much.”   Buffy held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, you’re talking to someone who’s had to spend her whole life explaining that, yes, Buffy is my given name.”   “No shit?” Spike asked. “I always thought you were an Elizabeth for real.”   “Nope,” said Buffy, returning to her cookies. “Mom liked some folk singer by the name of Buffy and decided that’s what I was going to be.”   “Real flower child your mum was,” Spike laughed. “Buffy and Dawn – straight out of the 1960’s. But she made a damn good cup of cocoa, so I guess we’ll have to forgive her for her choices of names.”   “And there are worse names than Pratt,” said Buffy, putting the cookies in the oven and turning to stand between Spike’s legs. “It works for me.” She pulled him into a kiss that lasted until the oven timer beeped.   They prepared a bunch of sandwiches and poured out some snacks into bowls before the guests started arriving at 2:45 or so. Buffy introduced Spike to Janice and her mom as “My boyfriend, William.” Spike used his smooth British accent to charm the socks right off Janice’s mother, causing Buffy to have to hide her giggles from time to time. Various other teens arrived, whose names Spike never entirely sorted out, but who made a beeline for the snacks and drinks.   When Tara showed up, she hesitated for a moment on the doorstep. “H… hello, Buffy,” she stammered out finally.   Buffy took her hand and gave her a little hug. “Thanks for coming, Tara. Dawn will be glad to see you. How are you doing?”   “I’m ok. It’s been a little hard. Willow really wants to get back together, but I’m n…not quite there yet.”   “How’s she been with the magic?”   Tara shrugged. “Not sure. But at least I haven’t noticed her trying to throw any spells my way, and I think she got the message to leave you alone, so maybe there’s hope.” Tara paused, not sure if she wanted to mention Xander.   Buffy saw her hesitation and guessed what she was thinking about. “Look, I know that I lost control with Xander. But he nearly killed us! I just went into Slayer mode automatically.”   “I know,” said Tara sympathetically. “Anya and I were talking. He’s going to be ok. You broke his nose, and I think he lost a tooth, but he’s going to be ok. And Anya has pretty much told him that she’s going to move out if he doesn’t start paying more attention to her and spending less time obsessing over you and Spike. I think that got the message across even better than the punch in the nose.”   “Remind me to thank Anya sometime,” Buffy began. Then she heard a car pull up. “She’s here!” Buffy called excitedly.   Dawn got out and took her suitcase out of the back seat. She made it about halfway up the walk before her sister met her and swept her into a hug. “God I am SO happy to be home!” Dawn cried as she clung to Buffy happily.   Buffy looked at her with shining eyes, then turned to Ms. Davis. “We’re having a little party to celebrate. Would you like to join us?”   Ms. Davis shook her head gently. “I think you two have some catching up to do on your own. It’s been a pleasure meeting you both, even under these trying circumstances. Best of luck to both of you.” With that she got back into the car, waved, and drove off.   “A party? Is there sugar? Cause let me tell you, Ms. Langely was big on the broccoli, short on the chocolaty goodness,” said Dawn as Buffy picked up the suitcase and hugged her shoulders.   When the sisters entered the house they were greeted with cheers from all. Dawn hugged everyone, spending an extra moment to whisper, “Thank you, Spike,” to the vampire.   “No problem, Bit,” he whispered back before releasing her to go hug Tara.   They spent the rest of the afternoon eating and drinking. The teenagers put on loud music and danced in the living room, laughing uproariously at each others’ antics. Tara and Janice’s mom turned out to both be interested in psychology, and chatted amiably about that in one corner. At one point, Buffy went into the kitchen to refill the bowl of pretzels, and smiled as Spike wrapped his arms around her from behind.   “Nice little shindig, love,” he purred, nibbling lightly on her neck.   She put down the bowl and turned to face him, kissing him softly and tenderly. “It’s you who made it all possible. You brought me back.”   “Ah, the witches did all the hard stuff,” Spike said lightly.   “No,” Buffy said with conviction, fixing her eyes on his. “They gave me a body. But you gave me back my life.” And the rest of the world disappeared as they kissed, man and woman, demon and ghost.   The End