Weeks could have gone by, and he wouldn't have known it. He was lost in a kind of delirium, only dimly aware of things around him. He was aware of Buffy's nightly feedings. Those feedings, although meager, were the only things standing in the gap between him, and utter madness. And he knew that she was trying to help, but he also knew that the demon inside of him was railing, furious at his body for allowing itself to become so damaged.

And just how damaged was he, anyway? A few more steps into the red zone than he had been after Dana's attack, of that he was sure. Well, since no one who buzzed around him constantly, told him anything about his condition, good or bad, Spike could only assume that it was still as bad as bad could get. Although, how much worse can a vamp get then dust? He was dust once, and here he was now. One step up from dust, and from the scent of the tears Buffy thinks he doesn't know about, sliding downhill fast. Still, there was still hope, right? He could still rally, couldn't he? All he needed was time, and a little of the sweet stuff in Buffy's veins. Just hold on until Dru could find him. That is, if she was even looking for him. He'd just hold on. But, why? Why was that again? He wasn't trying to be difficult, really he wasn't, if he could just find the reason again, then he'd have the trail to follow, the breadcrumbs to find. He could do it, he was just so tired, and everything seemed so heavy. Maybe if he rested a little, it would be better.

The little refuge he did get from sleep, was interrupted by thoughts of Drusilla. Spike thought of her, because, no matter how many years, be it a hundred or a thousand, or perhaps just these next sixty minutes, he existed, when everything was tallied, it all came down to her. Drusilla was the reason William died in that livery stable. She was the reason William the Bloody had roared into existence. She was the reason he grabbed life by the throat, drained every last drop and left deep, red furrows, before dropping it, carelessly, to the ground. Drusilla was the reason he'd come to Sunnydale, the reason he'd met Buffy.

Then his world, a world he knew his place in, went topsy-turvy, and nothing was ever the same again. Up became down, and wrong became right. Everything changed so quickly that he became dizzy just trying to keep up. Just when he thought he knew where he stood, he was tossed into the sea again, grasping at Angelus's heels just to stay afloat. Surely Angelus, no matter their past, would understand and help. Angelus wouldn't throw him over into the abyss. But, it seems, he had. And now, he was back where it all began. With Drusilla.

Spike thought of that night in Prague. He'd found his dark beauty, pinned to a wooden spire, with crudely fashioned sakes driven into her delicate palms. He ripped through half the villagers, desperately trying to reach her before they could touch torch to wood. He could hear the sound of her screams as he crashed, unwillingly, into unconsciousness after one of the townspeople struck him in the head, before finally succumbing to the lethal wounds he'd received as payment for Drusilla's treatment.

Spike awoke to the smell of smoldering wood and burnt flesh. As he opened his eyes and looked around, he caught sight of Drusilla, still pinned to the spire, her head hanging limply to one side. He ignored the pain, screeching for acknowledgement, in his own body, and crawled toward her. When he reached her, with trembling hands, he touched the slippers on her feet, which were dangling, free from her prison.

That act confirmed for him that it had been no nightmare, and he got swiftly to his feet. Swaying a little from the shock, he pressed his fingertips into her blackened palms, deftly avoiding the reddened holes at the center. He reached out to her cheek, touching it lovingly. With a trembling voice, he spoke, as if the moment were made of glass, and any stray sound would shatter it, and her, into a thousand pieces, "Drusilla, baby," he ignored the wetness on his face, "can you hear me, baby?"

She gave a little mewling sound, "S...pike?"

He felt his knees go weak with joy, "Yes, it's me, baby. I've got you now. Daddy's got you," he cooed at her, trying to distract her from the pain, "I've got you now. It's going to be all right," he said that for himself, as well as for her, "Those bastards paid for what they did to you," his voice hitched, "Dru, I'm sorry," he bit his lip, trying not to whimper, "Can you sing for me, Dru?" he asked.

"It hurts, Spike."

The agony rose in his throat, "I know," his voice wobbled. He had to distract her so that he could pry her free, "Please sing. Do it for me, all right?"

As he heard her humming faintly, he gave her warning, "This might hurt a little, darling, but keep singing for me, okay?" With that, Spike reached nervous fingers around the spire, pressed his palm against the tip of the stake in her left hand, closed his eyes, and shoved as hard as he could, hearing the stake fall, softly, to the earth after her sharp yelp of pain. Waves of pain shuddered through him as he sighed, "Keep singing, baby, it's almost over. Don't worry, I've got you," he kept murmuring as he shoved the other stake out of her hand, and caught her limp body as she fell forward against him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, shifting her in his arms, "I'm taking you home," he assured her, as her head lulled in the crook of his arm.

He remembered sitting at her bedside for months. Never leaving the lair, not even to feed, and snarling at any minion who dared to suggest that it was hopeless. He beheaded one for even thinking that he should give up, and leave his princess to die.

Then, one day, one of his smarter minions, Dalton, came to him with a manuscript that mentioned that the way to help Drusilla might be found on the Hellmouth, and the rest, as they say, was history. *********************

Those who do not learn from history, are condemned to repeat it. He'd heard that somewhere once, and now he was lying here, unable to move, the pain so acute that it was hard to even think. The demon in him couldn't understand why it had been caged. It knew what it needed. It needed blood. The physical drive overrode Spike's ability to reason. Trapped, in this useless husk, he was slowly going mad.

The scent of blood seeped into his brain. And, not just any blood. Slayer blood. A Slayer was near. He could hear her breathing, her heartbeat pounding its steady rhythm against the inside of his skull. How had she gotten this close? He had to get up and fight, or he would be dust. But, the weight of his body kept him down.

"...We've tracked her to Africa. She killed a demon there who, it's rumored, grants restoration to those demons strong enough to endure the trials."

How had this annoying little gnat survived this long? Take her. Rip her throat out and drain her before she can blink, it's what you do. The demon roared, its teeth tearing the top off of his head in its fury. Run little girl, it screamed, before I tear you up!

Spike fought the nausea that welled up in him, trying to let Buffy's voice anchor him, "...Then there were some sightings in Nepal. A missionary settlement there was slaughtered. Only one little girl survived..."

Buffy stopped speaking when she felt a feral growl reverberate through her body, "Spike," she asked, alarmed, "you still with me?"
***********************

He knew that there was a little girl somewhere in the house. He could hear the rapid tap, tap, tap, of her heartbeat. He stopped for a moment, becoming still, letting the little girl's body tell him where it was she was hiding.

Then, he heard a tiny sigh, coming from the direction of the coal bin. He turned, silently, letting his human mask shift back into place, he slowly opened the little door, "Oh, hello," he said softly, "What are you doing in there?"

"Is the monster gone?" she asked, her eyes wide with fright and her face wet with tears.

Spike smiled his sweetest smile, "Do I look like a monster to you?"

She shook her head. Children are so trusting, Spike thought.

"Where are your Mummy and Daddy?"

"I think the monster ate them," she squeaked.

"Oh," Spike said, his voice concerned, "Well then we had better get you out of here, hadn't we? Before the monster comes back?"

The girl nodded.

"My name is William," he said, "What can I call you?"

"My name is Jane."

Jane was the sweetest little morsel he'd ever tasted. Just thinking about her sweet blood made him mad with need.

Buffy's body had gone tight as a bowstring, every nerve fiber in her straining to hear a response from Spike. She had been waiting, for what seemed like an eternity, with her teeth on edge, and still there was nothing. Had he slipped so far down under the pain that he couldn't find his way back to the surface? Had she lost him to it? She tried again, "Spike?" she ventured, "Are you still with me?"

The response was slow and groggy. Yes. I'm here. Demon's been tripping me down memory lane, is all. It's been a bumpy trip.

Buffy became concerned, "Is there something I can do?"

You feeling up to this, Love? I know you must be tired, but I need...

She shook her head, trying to keep the fact that she was crying, from showing itself in her voice, "Whatever you need, Spike. I'll do it."

Just feeling a bit peckish.

Buffy looked at his slowly healing body. It looked so much better than it had two months ago. The skin around his throat had repaired itself. It wouldn't be long now, until she would actually hear his voice again, and with Angel trying to atone for his actions by tracking Drusilla, it wouldn't be long until he was as perfect to everyone else as he appeared to be to her.

As she fingered the pink, raised mark across her palm, she smiled and said, " I told you, whatever you need, I want to give you."
**********

Buffy shivered. She drew her knees up next to her chest, trying to stay warm. I must have left the window open, she thought, and opened her eyes. To almost total darkness; and, she wasn't lying on a bed, she was lying on the floor, of a crypt.

Oh, shit, she thought, I must have passed out after...she tried to get her bearings, "Spike?" she asked, scrambling up from her hands and knees.

"Right here, Love," he croaked. Then, inside her head, Buffy heard, Bloody Hell, remind me not to do that again. It feels like I swallowed a liter of holy water!

But, Buffy hadn't heard the quip. She was still focused on the first three words, "Spike," she whispered, in awe, "You spoke! With actual words, with syllables and everything," she was grinning ear-to-ear, "It's so good to hear your voice!"

"Shut...Up...Spike," he rasped, his voice barely audible in the silent vault.

Buffy strode up near the end of the bier that his head rested on, positioned herself so that she could stare down into his burned, yet strangely beautiful face, and said, "When have you ever listened to what I said, Spike," she smirked, and then added, "And why the 'Bloody Hell' would you start now?"

"Watch...your...mouth."

"Not right now," she grinned, "Too busy watching yours."

Something that sounded suspiciously like a growl came from his throat. Buffy would have sworn, at that moment, that today was Christmas, the Fourth of July, and her birthday, all rolled up in one. She pumped the air with her fist, bouncing on her toes, she hissed, "Yes! Was that a growl? It was, wasn't it," Buffy was so excited she could barely hold herself down, "Oh my God, I've died and gone to heaven!"

In her head she heard, Take it easy, Love. If I had known you were this easy to please, I would have grumbled a long time ago.

"Don't stop on my account," she said, she waved her hands toward the roof, "Shout the roof down, if you want to," she looked up at the ceiling and winced, "On second thought, better to not do that just now. Wait until I tell everyone! Dawn will flip!"

Everyone? Bit's here? When did that happen?

"While you were sleeping," she said quickly, as she left to spread the news, "It's a whole, big thing. I'll explain later, I promise. Back in a flash," she breathed, and then yelled, "I love you, Spike!"
****************

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

"That's right, Giles. I need all the info you've got on the Dufarn'k. I think they have some sort of paralyzing venom. I also need you to see what you can dig up on the Yarnesh," she listened for a moment, "No, those are the ones that got in a few swipes at him with their talons. I told you, most of his clothes were either burned off of him, or they're in his skin right now, do you really want me to dig more holes in him just so you'll have something to test? I'm not going to hurt him," she sniffled and sighed, "Not anymore," Buffy held the receiver away from her mouth and asked Angel, "Any others?"

"The Sulvolte."

"Right. Giles, I think Riley knows something about the Sulvolte," she grimaced at he memory of Riley tossing a grenade down into Spike's bedchamber, and blowing it to bits, "Thanks, Giles. Tell Dawn a plane ticket is waiting for her at the airport. Bye," Buffy said, as she hung up the phone.

"Riley actually agreed to help?" Angel asked.

She nodded curtly, "He did. After I told him that helping Spike would piss you off? He was all for it. He hates you more than Xander does."

"Ouch," Angel grumbled.

"Yeah," Buffy said, "well, payback's a bitch."

Buffy sagged down into the desk chair that was in the small hotel room she had rented. Sitting in an underground crypt, imagining all the pain Spike must be going through, was not helping her problem solving skills. Illyria was on watch over Spike until Buffy could call in the cavalry to help locate Drusilla.

Buffy had resisted calling any of them, at first. After all, she hadn't really worked, or played, with any of them, for so long, she was afraid they might say no. She was even afraid that Dawn would think she'd gone bonkers when she told her that Spike was "alive" again, and that he needed her help. Instead, Dawn just broke down into tears, begged Buffy to tell Spike she was sorry, and that she loved him, and asked for a ticket on the first flight out.

After some initial shock, which rendered Xander, temporarily, speechless, he'd said to Buffy, "Anybody who'll go to the mat, for me, like he did, I can watch his back when it needs watchin'."

Willow said that she would offer to do a locator spell to help find Drusilla, but she knew that Spike didn't trust magic all that much, so she would only do the spell as a last resort.

Buffy smiled, and shook her head, sighing, "What a difference a year makes. I think we all finally realized, we're not in high school anymore."

Three days later, the gang was all assembled. Willow had even come, complete with laptop and direct satellite linkup, ready for hacker action. Giles had access to the new Council's resources, which was a given, considering he was the head of the entire operation. And Dawn was in charge of the scientific parts of the investigation. That honor would have gone to Miss Blue Bonnet, but it seemed, sadly, that there was not enough of Winifred Burkle left in her, to allow her to operate a microscope safely. So, Dawn got that job.

Dawn's first assignment was to find out why two months of a steady diet of Slayer's blood still left Spike looking like a toasted marshmallow. It wasn't that the blood wasn't working, it just wasn't working fast enough to suit the Summers girls.

Dawn had snuck down, under the church, to see him once. That gave her all the motivation she needed. She wanted to make him better so she could tell Spike, to his face, how sorry she was, especially now, about threatening to set him on fire. She loved him so much, and hoped, that, maybe, one day he would forgive her.

Angel caught Dawn, while she was on her way back up to the church sanctuary and asked her, "Why did you all rally around Spike so quickly? I asked for help, when Fred got sick, and not one of you came to help. Why now?"

Dawn tried to decide if he was actually serious before she answered his question, "Do you really want to know?" she asked.

"Yes."

Dawn tilted her head to the side, in thought, "I don't know, Angel, maybe it's because, once he thought of us as his friends, he never tried to eat any of us," she paused, and then added, "with or without a soul," Dawn left Angel in the middle of the dark passageway, and went up into the sanctuary to light a candle for Spike.
*******

As Buffy walked back into the burial chamber, she said, over her shoulder, to her friends waiting outside, "Now remember, only one at a time. I'll see if he's ready for visitors, first. Also, he's not ready for big words yet..."

Xander interrupted, "Then, if he's not yapping constantly, how will we know it's really him?"

Buffy continued, "I can sort of hear him, in my head. I can relay any message, if he's feeling really talkative. As long as it's not too...private," Buffy said, blushing.

"What do you mean, private?" Xander asked.

Buffy just rolled her eyes at him.

Xander took the hint, "Shutting up now."

Buffy walked the rest of the way into the chamber, while the others lingered near the archway, waiting to be called in, "Are you ready for visitors, Spike? There're a bunch of people who want to see you."

"Yes," Spike choked.

"Anyone, in particular, you want to talk to first?" Buffy asked.

The answer came loud and clear in her head, I want to see Nibblet, first.

Buffy smiled, "Thought so. Dawn, could you come in here, please?"

Dawn shuffled, slowly into the room. She was suddenly nervous. She hadn't seen him in a year, what would she say to him? How would she apologize? She stopped twenty feet from Buffy and Spike, frozen with fear, or maybe it was hope.

Buffy smiled, knowing exactly how her sister was feeling, "You have to get up really close to be able to hear him. His voice is just a whisper right now, but he can hear you and he understands what you say."

Dawn inched closer, until her sneakers just touched the stone support he was lying on, "Hi, Spike," she whispered, starting to cry, "I missed you, so much," she bit back a sob as she waited to hear him.

It was slow in coming, but Dawn heard her friend and protector tell her, "Miss... You...Too," a raspy breath, and for a second Dawn thought she'd hurt him, until he finished with, "Not... Cry."

"Okay," she sniffed, "I won't," and slowly walked out of the room.

Xander was next, "So, dead man, hear you're telling tales. Isn't that against the rules?"

"Bug... Off...Bite...You..."

Xander grinned, smugly, "I know. I'm very bitable."

In Buffy's head came the retort, Oh, yeah, you're a nummy treat.

Buffy smiled, "He called you a 'Nummy treat.'"

Xander nodded, "That's Spike, all right!"

Willow came next, "Hi, Spike."

"Lo...R..red."

Buffy was just about to call Giles in when Spike stopped her. He sounded a little out of breath, if he needed to breathe, Love, can we stop now, just for a bit?

"Sure, Spike." Buffy said, waving Giles away, "Are you tired?"

No. Just starting to feel a little like George Bailey.

She had no frame of reference for that name, she turned to the others, "He says he feels like George Bailey," she watched the others smile, "Who's George Bailey?" she asked.
************


Angel sat on the hard, utilitarian seats of the HC-130 "Troop Mover" aircraft listening to the deafening rumble of its engines, grateful that this type of aircraft had no windows. Therefore, there was no need for him to worry about exposure to sunlight as he poured over the maps, he and Riley had drawn up, while trying to track Drusilla. The attacks made absolutely no sense. There was no rhyme or reason to them. But then, there wasn't always rhyme or reason to anything Drusilla did. He could never understand her. He didn't have the patience for her. That was why she'd made William in the first place. As something to play with when her "Daddy" grew tired of her, and Angel had been glad for it. That meant Drusilla wouldn't slow him down. William was always there to take her off of his hands. But, William knew that Drusilla wasn't his, not really. Angel made sure of that.

Now, he wished Spike were here to help him make something coherent out of all this randomness. Angel didn't want to be wrong again; didn't want to be late. Not when so much was hanging in the balance. He needed something he could count on.

But then, that night he had counted on Spike, and Spike came through, with flying colors, just as Angel knew he would. And, now, the very fact that Spike could be counted on to behave, just as he had, left Angel sitting here, questioning his very definition of the word loyalty.

He looked up from the papers, full of lines that crisscrossed this way and that, said to Riley, " Have the pilot radio that we're requesting permission to land at Cleveland," he took in Riley's questioning gaze, " I think Wood and Faith may be Drusilla's next targets."
************

After Buffy had ushered her friends out, she came back to Spike, "You should have just said you were tired. We all would have understood that."

"Not, he whispered.

Buffy was concerned, "Then, what is it?"

She waited for an answer, but nothing came, either verbally, or otherwise. Then she felt the wave of disgust, fear, anger, and, hunger swamp her like a tidal wave. She felt her mouth water from the hunger, and then, the disgust she felt made her want to vomit. She swallowed hard, "Spike, it's all right if you're hungry," she soothed, biting her lip, "We all kind of expected that you might be. It's all right," she nodded, wishing she could touch his face and reassure him, "Really, it is."

Spike struggled to find words small enough that he could speak them without causing himself pain, but large enough to convey his meaning, and the seriousness of it, "No...Not...You...Smell...Food!"

Buffy understood what he meant, but tried to lighten the mood, "You want to eat me," she sighed, " That's right, you didn't hear the cookie dough speech did you?"

"Not. Fun, "Spike hissed.

"You're right," Buffy agreed, "It's not funny," Buffy did not want to tell him that, she'd prepared, under great noise and protest, for this day, the day that, despite William's valiant efforts not to let it be so, his demon would see her, and her friends, as nothing more than food. Buffy took a deep breath, and heaved a sigh, she knew that once Spike was on his feet again, they were going to have a good old fashioned, knock down, drag out, lover's quarrel, over what she had done, but, at least, she would be alive to have that quarrel, "That's why, it's been taken care of."

"What?" Spike asked.
*********

"No, absolutely not," Buffy shouted, pacing the hotel room floor again, "I won't do that. Spike would see it as a humiliation, a betrayal of what I told him, Angel," she paused to catch her breath, "Only a month ago, I found out he still existed. Angel, do you even comprehend what that feels like? To know that someone you love with all your soul, someone you thought was gone, is still here, and that, despite, literal, hellfire and dragons, he still loves you?"

Angel searched his heart. After Buffy came back from the dead, he should have felt that. He should, at least know what the feeling was like, even if he didn't feel it now, but he didn't. He searched the place where his soul kept Buffy locked away, for safekeeping, and found that the feeling she was describing, the feeling he should have felt for her, for anyone, wasn't there, "No." he said.

She stumbled on the words, not knowing how to make him understand what she finally, finally, understood. A thing that Spike had always known, "It's the greatest feeling, Angel," she knelt by the side of Angel's chair, "It makes you ten feet tall, when, really, you're only five. It makes you strut, when without it, you'd just be limping," Buffy smiled, thinking of Spike's bright, clear, eyes, and said, in a far away voice, "It makes you big, and it makes you bad, and good, all at the same time," she let out a calming breath, "Angel, don't you see, that doing this, would take that all away from me?" She stood up again, "It would rip him, and me, apart. Is that what you want?"

"No. But, I also don't want him tearing your throat out while Riley and I chase after Dru. Trust me, I'm looking out for the both of you when I suggest this. If, by some chance, we find Drusilla, and bring her back here, and Spike gets through this, if he found out he'd hurt you, even killed you, or someone you cared about, while he wasn't in control of himself, do you know what that would do to him, Buffy?"

Buffy could already feel Spike's love withdrawing from her, "What do I have to do, Angel?"

"Spike is a submissive," Angel said, "It wouldn't take much, just enough to let the demon know that you belong to me, and he can't touch you."

Buffy sputtered, "Submissive? Angel, have you met Spike, lately?"

"I didn't mean sexually," Angel sighed, "And, for the love of God, don't tell me. I meant, in terms of the pack-like mentality vampires have. On those terms, and this is not meant as an insult to you, or to him," Angel paused, "Buffy, the pack-like behavior, is one of the reasons he stayed here for a year, and didn't come to you. He didn't come, at least in part, because I told him not to. Buffy, I'm the Alpha male. Spike is the runt."

"Are you saying, that if I let you mark me, then Spike's demon would have to let me live?"

"Yes," Angel said, "Until I gave it permission to kill you," he saw Buffy's eyes widen, "Which I will not give. I won't take enough to make you pass out. But, if you'd feel more comfortable, Illyria is just outside, I can call her in, she is more than capable of taking me down, if I get out of hand."

"Yes, Angel, call her in." Buffy said.
*********

Buffy was crying, not sure how Spike would react to the news that essentially, he had been made a cuckold, by Angel, "Spike, This doesn't mean that I don't love you. If anything, it proves that I love you more than anything else in the entire world. I just didn't want you to have to spend energy worrying about my safety. I just want you to know that I still love you, Spike. Please, don't be angry."

Buffy felt a warmth radiating from inside her, that started at the top of her head and ended at the tips of her toes, it made her feel flush. Had she just been given a psychic hug?

I'm not mad, Buffy. I'm glad of it. Now, I don't have to worry.
********

The mysterious woman that had stowed away on the steel barge, left the ship, as it docked, briefly, off the shores of Lake Erie, near Cleveland, Ohio.

Some people, in the know, called Cleveland a Hellmouth, others called it home.

As she stepped into the night, the woman whispered on the wind, "Don't worry, William, Mummy will make everything right again."



As Angel and Riley waited out the thunderstorm that was preventing their landing in Cleveland, Angel tried to telephone Robin and Faith, to warn them that Drusilla might be on her way, but he got no answer. He thought about phoning the police, but what could they do? Humans never really believed that creatures like him and Drusilla existed. In the movies, sure, why not? As plastic and makeup on Halloween night? Sure, they'd seen that, but, real? No. The minute he walked into the precinct downtown and opened his mouth, they would lock him in a padded cell, and throw away the key. And then he would be no help to Faith, Robin, Buffy, or Spike.

And, ironically, wanting to help Spike was how the whole thing started.

It all started the night they had the fight over the cup, in the old opera house. Spike had been so passionate and so sure of his place that Angel, almost, envied him. There was so much fire in his eyes, that even he was warmed by its glow. During the fight, somewhere between getting his face bashed in with a cross, and falling over the balcony, it came to him, Spike wanted this, really wanted it. Not just for Buffy, like he'd said, but for himself. Angel remembered wanting to laugh, but his ribs had been broken, so he couldn't. It's just as well, he'd thought, Spike will only think I'm mocking him, but I'm not. I actually want to congratulate him on doing the right thing. He wasn't fighting because he knew that there was a shiny reward at the end of the rainbow, he fought, even before he believed in the fairy tale, because he wanted to, and because it was right. Angel knew, at that moment that it wasn't for him, this reward, and no amount of commiserating with Gunn was going to change the facts, and lawyers dealt in facts, didn't they? The fact was; Spike deserved it more. And Angel was going to move heaven and earth to make it happen for him. If he couldn't watch out for Connor, he would make sure Spike would be all right.
******

Dawn bit her lip, as the needle went in, listening for any hint of pain, "Sorry, Spike, but I have to draw some blood. Buffy and I need to figure out why you still look like you did after Buffy dropped that organ on your head," she looked up at Spike's face quickly ashamed that she'd reminded him how he looked, "Sorry, Spike. I didn't mean to remind you of ..."

"Dru?" he asked.

Dawn was happy to hear him talking again. At first, when he could only whisper, Dawn had to admit, it was, just a little, creepy. But, now, he just sounded like he was just getting over a bad case of laryngitis. He could respond using whole sentences now. That meant that she could ask him questions, and get real answers, which was good, considering that Spike still wasn't able to move without help. Which was why she needed the blood sample to test. "Yeah, sorry."

"Would you stop saying that, Bit? You're driving me round the bloody bend, here! Nothing you need to be sorry for. Besides, been thinking about her myself, so why not have you tag along, too? At least then, I've got some company. It's a bit lonely in this old noggin of mine these days, what with Buffy in research mode."

"That should be enough," Dawn said, sliding the needle out, and placing a cotton ball, and tape, over the small dot of blood that bubbled up, near his elbow, "Did that hurt?"

"Yes," he said honestly, "but then, so does everything else. Why should this be any different?"

"I'm sorry," Dawn said.

"I told you to stop saying that."

Dawn smiled, a wide grin, knowing he still couldn't see her, he wasn't able to open his eyes yet, and said, "Sorry," as she ran to find her microscope, she thought she heard a low rumbling coming from behind her, in the vault.
*************

Drusilla knew that the Slayer protected the man she wanted to teach a lesson, so she'd just have to be patient and let him come to her. She also knew how to wait. She had a safe place, near the docks that she could hide in. That was something Spike had taught her, always have an escape plan. She had learned from Angelus, that was true, but sometimes Daddy could be so cross.

She had known that her darling, deadly, boy was in danger ever since the King of Cups had come to her, in a dream, and told her so. The Knave of Spades had nearly pierced William through with his deceit. And, for that, he must pay. Her King of Hearts had made him ashes, but begged her to make it right again, and she would, but for now the schoolmistress has things to learn about the stars and little specks of dust. So, she would wait until it was time. Then, she would take William and set him free.
********

Angel watched as Riley loaded the dart gun, "Are you sure those tranquilizer darts still work," he asked, "Dru is pretty strong. Especially when she thinks she's in danger. I'm telling you, you aim that thing at her, she'll be on you pretty fast," he squinted at Riley, "How good is your aim with that thing?"

"I can still take a hostile at fifty yards, if that's what you're worried about. I have to be certified every year to stay on the squad," Riley double checked the gun sight, to be sure it was clear of dust an debris, and set it down, "If you're worried that I might, accidentally, shoot you instead of her," Angel nodded slightly, "Well then," Riley smiled, "In the military we have a term for that, 'collateral damage.' That's known to civilians as, 'Whoops.'"
*************

"So, what was it like?" Dawn asked.

"To what do you refer?" Illyria said.

"I mean, Spike. He helped you, right? That Pavane guy had you by the throat, and even though he could have been here, all the way here, I mean, he still helped you, instead?"

Illyria said nothing. It was starting to give Dawn the willies. "You know what," she said, "Maybe you'd be easier for me to talk to if you didn't look like that."

"You wish me to change my form?"

" Yeah," Dawn nodded, "If you don't mind."

"I do not. I shall do as you wish."

"That's great," Dawn smiled, as the brunette appeared in Illyria's place, "Now tell me. What was it like?" Dawn asked as she looked through her microscope.

The pretty girl chirped, in her Texas accent, "I'd never seen anything like it. He could have been in phase with this reality, all he had to do was jump into the circle at the right time, and, presto, he's all the way back. But he didn't. He pushed Pavane in instead. And Angel locked him up, for good."

"Wow," Dawn whispered.

"Yeah. I told him that that only proved what I 'd been telling everybody."

"What's that," Dawn said as she looked into her microscope.

"That he's worth saving."

Dawn shook her head, "No. I mean, yes, he defiantly is! But," she stepped back from the microscope and let the other girl see what she was looking at, "I mean, what is that?"

"Looks like a parasite."

"See what it's doing to his blood?"

"It appears to be consuming it," Illyria said as she shifted her form.

"See that other, wriggly thing, in the corner," Dawn turned up the gain on the microscope, "I know this from chemistry class. That's what metal looks like, only it's moving. Do you think Spike has some Hellmouth type of lead poisoning?" Dawn didn't wait for an answer, she was racing a thirty second mile down to Spike's chamber.

"Spike! Spike," by the time she reached him, Dawn was panting for breath.

Spike was alarmed. His Bit was in danger, and he couldn't move a muscle, "What is it, Bit?!"

"Think back, after you weren't a ghost, did you drink anything? Maybe from a metal cup?"

"Oh... Bugger! It's that bloody Mountain Dew!"
********


To anyone who came upon Buffy and Giles as they sat in quiet conference, they looked like father and daughter. It was a serene picture. To others around them, Giles looked like a father comforting his daughter through a great sorrow. And, at this precise moment, they were, exactly, what they appeared to be.

"Giles," Buffy stifled a sob in his shoulder, "I don't know what to do. He says he isn't angry. But, how do I know that? If I were Spike, lying there, unable to see or move," Buffy closed her eyes to the image of his battered face and body. It was an image she didn't wish to keep with her, but knew she would never be rid of, for as long as she was on the earth, "Unable to see, and someone told me that my soul mate," she stopped speaking, looking up at Giles with wet eyes, "That's what he is, you know? I finally get it. If someone had even thought about touching my soul mate, I know I wouldn't take it, not even for a second. And yet," Buffy dabbed her eyes, "he hugged me. Giles, I actually felt him hug me. How is that even possible, after everything that's happened?"

Giles bowed his head in consideration, both for the seriousness of her inquiry, and her depth of feeling for a vampire, who he, himself, had greatly, greatly, misjudged. To his own, perhaps, eternal, detriment, "Spike has proven to be quite...remarkable, over the years. I now see that it was my...past experience that blinded me to that, quite obvious, fact. Perhaps this is just another example of his capacity to," Giles choked on the next words, not because he didn't believe in what he was saying, but because of those prior experiences, "care for you?"

Buffy sniffed, "I hope that he knows how much I care for him, Giles. How much I love him."

Giles pulled Buffy into a comforting embrace, "I'm sure he knows, Buffy."

Upstairs, in the church proper, all the congregants began to feel a slight rumbling beneath their feet, some became alarmed, and, thinking an earthquake had hit, got up to run for shelter. Buffy and Giles knew that this was no earthquake under their feet, no this was something much worse, and descended from serenity into chaos.
***********

" 'That's not a prize you're holding, Spike. It's a burden. It's a cross,'" Spike yelled, in a gruff approximation of Angel's voice, and continued yelling, "I'll give him a cross! Only question is, which end does he want it shoved into," the intensity of Spike's words rose as Buffy raced the long labyrinth of stone, "Thought you'd burn me to ashes and take Buffy from me, did you? Well, didn't work quite like you'd hoped, did it, Angelus? Still here, burned to a bloody crisp, but I'm still here, you ponce! My demon may be under the delusion that you are in control here, but, unlike you, I have an organ other than my John Thomas! It's called a brain. I know that Buffy loves me! She told me so, and I believe her. You think you've got her just because she has your teeth marks on her neck? Think again!" Buffy reached the archway of the chamber just as his anger and rage lost all its gale, and his voice became a lost, and lonely whimper, "I haven't seen Buffy in four hundred and forty-two days," his voice was strained with emotion, adding to the desperate sound hitting Buffy's ears. Spike seemed to lose hope, and moaned, "And now, thanks to you, I might never see her again."

Buffy looked up to see her sister, Dawn, crying silent tears, as she handed Buffy her latest lab report.

She took it, in her trembling hands, and read what was written, "It's in his blood?"

Dawn nodded, mutely.

As Buffy read on, her jaw fell open, in shock, "It's reacting to my blood. Human hemoglobin, that's what this thing eats?" Buffy didn't wait for Dawn to answer but continued reading, "The Initiative had this? As part of the 'HST elimination campaign'," Buffy tried to put all the pieces together, "So, in a world full of goodies," Buffy looked at Dawn's stricken face, and knew that the horror on Dawn's face mirrored her own, "vampires starve to death."

Dawn nodded again.

"But, the Initiative was shut down, how did...?

"Willow hacked into some old government files that were, recently, declassified, because the Senator mentioned in them, is dead."

"Which Senator?"

"Senator Brucker," Dawn bit her lip, "Buffy the Senator gave the last vile of the serum to a man named Lindsey McDonald. He was supposed to use it to kill Angel, as part of his initiation into The Circle of Black Thorn."

"And, the Senator?"

Dawn nodded, "Buffy, Senator Brucker was a member of The Circle of Black Thorn."

Buffy wanted to vomit, "Oh, God," she gasped, and rushed in to see Spike. His eyes were closed, and his face calm, his voice, however, held a timber of sorrow in it that Buffy had never heard before, the hollowness of it made her lose her breath as she listened to his soul lament her.

... "Sunshine. I've lost my sunshine. Forever."

Buffy looked at Dawn in shock, "You told Spike about this?"

Dawn whimpered, "I couldn't lie, Buffy. Not to him."

Right now, Spike needed something to focus on, other than the grim news from that report. So, putting on her best "Buffy hates Spike" tone, she snapped, "Spike! When's the last time, other than the past two months, you've had human blood?"

His answer was clear, "You're the first since before the Hellmouth closed."

"After your injuries, who fed you? Has anyone fed you except me?

"No."

"Angel didn't feed you, why?"

"He said he tried, but, as he isn't my blood sire, it didn't take."

Buffy looked for Dawn, who was hanging on her every word, near the outer edge of the crypt, "Dawn," she said, " I think there's a homeless shelter, or a convent, adjacent to the church grounds. See if you can find some blankets and something to put something in, like a bowl. If you have to, stand in line for soup. But hurry. "

"I'm on it," Dawn said, as she rushed out.

Spike's voice was puzzled, "Buffy what are you doing?"

Spike could hear Buffy moving around the vault as she spoke, "Spike, how long can a vampire go on without feeding on blood, at all?"

"If he's healthy, sometimes months. In the case of injury," Spike remembered all the anxious hours he spent, doing nothing but counting nights and watching Drusilla slip further and further away from him, "Ten weeks."

"Ten weeks from today?"

"Yes."

Buffy looked at her watch, "Today is August 2nd. That gives us until October 16th to find Dru," she smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see her, "Piece of pineapple."

Spike sighed, "Cake, Love. It's cake."
************

As Roberta closed up her little magic shop, "Pandora's Box," she wondered about the strange woman who was her last customer, before closing. She seemed so pale, Roberta thought that maybe she was ill, or crazy, after all, there was an asylum just over the hill. Roberta shook her head, as she closed out the cash register. No one ever asks for an Orb of Thesula anymore. The woman was lucky she still had one in stock.
*******

Robin Wood decided to take one last sweep of the docks, before meeting up with Faith after her sweeps of the cemeteries. He wanted to get home before the light rain became a downpour. He was just about to turn and head for Faith, when he saw her, huddled near the edge of the pier, and it looked as if she was crying.

"My boy has drowned," she was saying, "He's gone away and I can't find him."

Robin approached her, cautiously, "Is there something I can do?"

"Why yes," Drusilla said, as she looked up, "Bad boy. You, lion cub, should know better than to wander from your lioness."

Before Robin had a chance to think about how, and why, it happened, Drusilla's fangs were in his neck, and all of his lifeblood was drained.
*********************

Dawn came back to the crypt, breathless, but with, blankets and bowl, minus the pea soup, in hand, "Buffy, I have what you wanted!"

"Good," Buffy said, "Now, spread one of the blankets on the floor."

Dawn didn't question, she just unfurled the blanket with a soft snap of the wool, and spread it on the floor, "Done. Now what?"

Spike was curious, if not mildly alarmed by the movement around him. Yeah, now what, Love, he thought.

"Now, I need you to help me get Spike down from there, and on to the floor. Dawn, take his feet."

As Spike felt little hands grasping his feet and shoulders, and his body begin to sway, he asked, "Buffy, what are you doing?"

"Spike, this thing in you, it bonded to the blood I gave you," she gave a wicked grin that she knew he would be able to hear from her tone, "I gave it to you, so, I can take it back."

As Spike felt his body touch solid ground again, he screamed, as loud as his weakling voice would allow, "No, Buffy! This thing, it's in me, if it got inside you? Buffy, you could die!"

Buffy's voice wavered a little, "So could you, again. I thought you were clear on how I wasn't going to let that happen again."

His voice was firm, "No, Buffy, I won't let you do it!"

Buffy sighed, exasperated, "We've been over this, haven't we? But, in case you didn't hear me the first time, stop me!"

"Buffy, No!"

Buffy knelt down next to Spike, placed the bowl on the floor next to her knees, and said, "It'll be okay, Spike. This is just like snakebite. I finally get to use some of the training I learned from Riley, who knew he'd actually help save your life?"

The point of her pocketknife went into the flesh of his neck opening the vain. She watched the blood bubble up and spill out onto his neck, she leaned over, and whispered into his ear, "I'm just going to give you a little kiss, Spike. It won't hurt a bit."

As she bent down to kiss his neck, the world went away.

Love. Hate. Fear. Rage. Ecstasy. Bliss. Cecily. Sorrow. Tear, rip, break, and destroy. Watch the blood flow, crimson and bright. Dru. So happy. Spinning. Whirling in her bright darkness, tumbling down, and down still more. The light. The light in the dark. So strong. Reach up to the light, need the light. The light hurts. Must keep on reaching, always reaching. Climbing up and up then sliding down. Pushed down, by the light. The light doesn't know me, but I know her. I love her. So tired. Buffy. Love you. So bright and shining. My sunshine beam. Look at you, so happy, so sad, so full of pain and Love, I love you. Do you see me? The pain. You're so small, Love where did you go? I'll save you. Hit me. Pain. There's my bright girl. Hit me again. Let me take the dark. You need the light. You don't need me, I need you. No, don't go! Go, fly away! Buffy, want me. Please. Love you. Need you. Love you. Where did you go? Love you. Need you. Buffy. Burning. Afraid. I'm afraid of the dark. Need the light. Need to see the light. Where did it go? Buffy, where are you? Too dark. Buffy! Buffy! Buffy!

In a dizzy haze Buffy cleaned the small wound in his neck, passed Dawn the bowl full of blood, and lain down next to him holding on as fierce as she dared. She thought she heard a choked whisper, "Buffy," as she drifted into sleep.
***************

Angel hadn't been to Cleveland since he'd tracked that Boritz demon to Kingsburry Run. He thought he could help. Elliot Ness could track a Boritz all on his own. Fine, Elliot Ness. You do that.

Now, he was back, in a nightclub, with a name that couldn't scream 'Hellmouth' any louder if it tried. "Howl at the Moon''? Were they kidding?

"Have you seen this woman?" he asked the bartender, showing him an old photo of Drusilla.

"Yeah," he nodded, " about a week ago. Gone now, though."
**********

Drusilla waited below decks. She just hoped the key was where her boy had left it.

10
Angel sat in the belly of the behemoth of an aircraft, and fumed. He was late again, and what's more, now he had to tell Buffy that someone she had fought with, on the Hellmouth, was dead. All of this because he wanted to, finally, feel the soul he'd been so smug about for one hundred years. After what Buffy told him about what happened in Sunnydale, after spending hours listening to her weep over the loss of Spike, he had tried to reach down inside, to find some kind of comfort to give to her, but there was none.

She'd said that he told her he felt it, his soul, before she'd left him there. Spike, in the end, knew he had a soul. Angel wasn't even sure his was even there anymore. He tried to think back, think of where he'd seen it last, where he'd misplaced it. But, no, it hadn't been misplaced. Angel knew exactly where, and when, he'd lost it. And, he knew whom he'd given it to. Connor. With Connor gone, there seemed no reason to even try anymore.

That was, until Spike whirled out of that amulet, like a demented genie on a mission. Just seeing Spike there was enough to make Angel jealous. Not of Spike, necessarily, but of the fact that, despite losing everything he could possibly lose, Spike's first thoughts weren't for himself. He didn't even bat an eyelash, not that he could, over being a ghost. Didn't mope or sulk at the lot he'd been cast, well, at least not for long, and certainly not for a century, he just launched right into the only things he knew. He knew only two things, and he was proficient in them both, Buffy, and taking the piss out of his curmudgeon of a Grandsire.

Angel would never tell Spike that he envied him for that. Angel would never tell Spike that the reason he put on such a megawatt grump, was because, that was the only way he could keep from crying at the irony he felt inside at wanting to laugh with joy, and stake him for being so damn cheerful, all at the same time. What, and give him more ammunition?

That was why he'd stirred up the trouble with The Circle, to feel the rush of fists and fangs. The comment still rang in Angel's head, "Don't you ever get tired of fights you know you're gonna win?"

Yes, he was. This was a fight Angel had known he was going to lose, even before it started. That's why he signed away the rights to the Shanshu. He didn't want it anymore. Not without Connor. Without him, there was no reason, so, why not give it up? It wasn't his anyway. Angel had just wanted out.

The night of the fight, Angel had set his sights on that dragon, simply because it was the fastest way out, and, he knew that vampires and fire were not a friendly mix. Angel had watched, from the periphery of his vision, Spike, snarling and growling, hacking and slashing away at anything that got between him and Gunn, who he'd chosen to protect. When Spike sensed that Gunn, sadly, no longer needed protecting, Angel noticed Spike's protective stance widen to include Illyria.

Angel almost smiled at the memory of the tiny Victorian poet, Victorian to the last, trying to protect the mighty Illyria, God-king of the premortium, who'd been encased in an even tinier body.

Angel was only half-heartedly in the battle. He took some minor swipes at an Akijahan or two, but he wasn't really committed to it. Spike, on the other hand, jumped in with both feet, both fists, both fangs, and a battleaxe for good measure.

It wouldn't be long now, Angel knew. The dragon had seen him; the glint of his sword had caught its attention. Just like the Tyrannosaurus Rex, it was attracted to movement. Soon, it would all be over, and Spike would have what he deserved, the girl, and the life, all of it.

That was when he'd heard Illyria scream. She'd tried to warn him, but Spike had somehow managed to, simultaneously slash open a Dufarrn'k, while dancing away from the Yarnesh that were nipping at his calves. Angel had to admit, Spike was pretty nimble in a fight. But, not nimble enough to keep the Dufarn'k's blood from splashing up onto his face and neck. What Angel had thought was a cry of pain, had actually been a warning. Spike dove toward Angel, tackling him to the ground, just as the dragon reared its head back.

The next thing Angel saw was a wall of fire, where, only milliseconds before, Spike had been standing.

The next thing he heard, should have been impossible. He heard Spike's voice, in his head, thundering like a sonic boom, the one name that should have been on his lips as well, "Buffy!!" The force and sheer volume of that cry made Angel's teeth rattle in his skull and brought him to his knees.

Then, all was quiet, as Angel realized that somewhere in the soul that was buried under all the regret, he'd recognized his kindred was in agony, and had cried, at the top of his voice, "Enough!"

And, everything had stopped. No demons, no dragons, no nothing, just a horribly mangled piece of flesh that had once been William the Bloody, and a visibly disturbed Illyria. And, then, of course, there was him.

Angel shook off the memory, and tried to focus on where Drusilla might head next. Once his hands stopped shaking, he would call Buffy and the others, and tell them the news of Robin Wood's death.
************

On a rainy night in England, a woman stood in an old convent cemetery. She walked slowly, careful not to disturb the dead. She came upon an old and crumbling stone. The name on it was so weathered that it was, almost, unreadable. Drusilla didn't need to read it, she knew the inscription by heart. The stone read: Sister Mary Michael , B.1835 D. 1860. Underneath the dates, was an inscription, almost as old, lovingly chiseled, twenty-five years after the stone had been erected, secretly by her brave knight: Racing Heavenward. That was what it said. Her boy had left her a love note.

Drusilla smiled as she left her sleeping sisters, and whispered, "Mummy will be home soon."
************

It was Xander's turn to stand watch outside the chamber. Dawn had told him what Buffy had done for Spike. In the past, the very mention of the words "Buffy, Spike, blood," and of course the ever-popular, at least on the Hellmouth, "Sucked," used, together, in the same sentence, would have sent him running for a nicely sharpened stake and some fresh holy water. But, after the things they'd all been through, Xander thought, what's a little blood between friends? Xander smiled to himself, listening to Buffy's soft snoring, which only goes to show how much I've grown, he thought.

Inside the chamber, Buffy busied herself lighting candles along the outer edge. She knew Spike couldn't see, but the dim light was starting to put a strain on her vision, so she'd sent Willow for some, non-magical ,candles.

As far as she could tell, Spike was still sleeping. The ordeal had been hard on them both, but hardest on him, and he needed the rest, so Buffy tried to be as quiet as a church mouse, as she moved about the crypt.

She smiled, at the thought. What do you know, I'm being quiet as a church mouse, in a church, with a sleeping vampire. I should write gothic novels! No one just makes this stuff up.

Just then, she heard Spike's gruff voice, coming from the floor. It sounded as if he might have been in pain, or possibly crying, "Love," he said softly.

The stress in his voice caused her to turn around and ask, "What is it, Spike? Are you in pain? Because I could..."

"No," he whispered softly, the word, almost a prayer.

That's when Buffy noticed it. He was looking at her. His eyes were open, and she could see the most beautiful blue eyes in the world staring, lovingly up at her.

For him, nothing in the universe mattered more than seeing those liquid pools of green, widen, quiver, and then, at last spill over, looking at him. Somehow, he managed to make his brain work long enough to utter the words that he had wanted to say for over a year, "Love," the words said in whispered worship, "you're beautiful!"


Buffy didn't move. She didn't even dare to breathe. Somehow, time had folded in on itself, and she was back inside the Hellmouth, looking into those incredible blue eyes. Buffy had seen his eyebrow quirk, ever so slightly, and his mouth form the small little smirk, that always told her that he knew she was lying, but he wouldn't ruin the game. The game was too much fun to quit now. He looked at her with all the hope and all the pain that could ever be on one man's face, and rasped out, as if saying it louder would wreck the beautiful dream he had constructed for himself, "No, you don't. But, thanks for saying it."

"No," she had wanted to scream, "This time I mean it! I really, really, mean it this time. This isn't a game!" Instead, she kept silent and let him push her away. Buffy had raced along crumbling rooftops, the memory of his eyes urging her to go faster, and faster. Pushing her, until she was standing, safely at the crater's edge, watching that stupid,"Welcome to Sunnydale" sign teeter, and topple over for the last time.

She'd smiled because she knew he'd been the one to push it over. Of course he would. No one else had the right to do that.

"Buffy," his voice was grinning, "Now, I don't need to, being dead and all, but, the last time I checked, humans, like you, my beautiful, beautiful, Slayer, need to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh huh," she sighed.

"Good. Now, are your legs all right?"

"Yeah."

"Then," his eyes were shining, "I need you to come towards me a bit, and to your left."

Buffy shook her head, a little confused, "What? Why?"

"Because, Goldilocks, if your blood pressure continues to drop, like it has for the last ninety seconds, you're gonna faint. And, I don't want you to hurt that pretty little noggin of yours on the concrete. Also, although, normally, I'd say, 'Have at it,' right now, I can't catch you, so, I don't want you to fall on top of me."

"Oh," she said, as she slowly made her legs do as he instructed, "Thanks," she said, and promptly fell to her knees.
**********

Buffy stirred a little, the memory of the pleasant dream still in her mind. She reached out behind her with the fingers of one hand, and found Spike's still form, next to her on the blanket. At least that part wasn't a dream, she thought.

Lying next to Buffy, Spike was enjoying the little pinpoints of fire that broke out on his skin where she was touching him, " Hello, Buffy," he cooed, "Do you think you can get up now? I think the candles have gotten a bit low. Even though I am loathe to ask you to ever leave my side, I think perhaps it would be best if they were snuffed out."

Squinting in confusion, Buffy rolled toward Spike. Her plan must have started to work, because even though his face was still very burned, now, at least, she could see his cheekbones starting to redefine themselves. The skin that had grown in was kind of a pinkish color, like a newborn baby's, and that gave Spike a very lifelike appearance. She propped herself up on her elbow, first looking at the candles, which were, in fact getting low, then at him, "How did you know the candles were.... Oh," she said.

Spike blinked, and Buffy noticed the skin that had started to grow where his eyebrows would eventually be, shifted upward, ever so slightly, he smiled at her, "Eyes like a hawk, Slayer," there was a ghost of the mischievous smirk on his lips, "All the better to see you with."

Buffy balked, "Spike, can you see me?"

Spike's tone was teasing, but joyful, "Is there someone you'd rather I look at, Slayer?"

"No," Buffy squeaked, excitedly, "Absolutely not."

"That works out nicely then," Spike chuckled, "Because I am not taking my eyes off of your beautiful face for the next fifty years, no matter what you say. So, you had best just clear that jam packed social calendar of yours, all right?"

Buffy closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning again. She just couldn't believe how blessed she was. Her dreams, all of them, were coming true. Some, not as fast as she would have liked; but they were still coming true. The one that she never thought she'd ever see again, the one who's eyes were the truest things in the entire world, was looking at her with so much love, that when she finally opened her eyes again, and Spike was still looking at her, patiently waiting for her to speak, Buffy couldn't help but giggle.

That sound, that tiny, little sound, hit Spike's ears like a thousand cathedral bells, ringing all at once. That sound shot straight to his heart, and, if he did not know better, he would have sworn that it had started beating again. He watched, happily, as Buffy's little button nose crinkled up, and the sound escaped again.

Buffy's fingers ached to touch him. She bit her lip, unsure, afraid she might hurt him, "Can I...?" she asked.

"Please," Spike breathed, eyes closed in anticipation.

"It won't hurt?" Buffy asked.

Spike's voice was a breathless whisper, "No. Buffy, please, I don't want to sound like a silly schoolboy with a crush on the Homecoming queen, but, please kiss me?"

Buffy leaned over Spike, and tenderly touched her lips to his mouth. The skin that should have felt leather-like, because of the trauma to his face, instead felt as soft as rose petals. It had been so long since she had kissed him, in anything other than a dream, that just having him this close, this real, made her head spin.

Her fingers began to dance around the skin of his face. She could feel her fingers sink down in to explore the arch of his cheekbones. Buffy then became bolder and her fingertips touched the soft curves of his eyelids, sliding down to discover the baby fine wisps that were his eyelashes. Her heart leapt with joy, knowing that behind the safe protection of those eyelids, were the eyes of her soul mate. Eyes that would, always, and forever, love her. Eyes that had once, and now could again, see her, down to her very soul. Spike had seen her at her best, he'd seen her at her worst, and he never flinched, never looked away, and he, honestly loved her al the more for her faults, and in spite of them, than she had ever thought it was possible to be loved.

Spike was trying hard to remain grounded, remain focused on Buffy. He focused on the streaks of flame her fingertips left on his face. She was so warm, and soft, and giving, that Spike almost had to pinch himself to remind himself that it wasn't a dream. Except, he couldn't pinch himself, so he just let the warmth of a touch he'd been so long without, glide over his face and eyes, and seep into his bones, warming him from the inside out. He felt his heart swell in his chest, and knew, that if Buffy hadn't been there to tether him down, he felt certain he would float right to the ceiling, and he wasn't sure he would have been able to stop there, if she didn't stop kissing him, right now, he would float out into the stratosphere, and never come back down. Oh, God, Buffy, please don't stop! Don't ever stop! I love you! God, Buffy, I love you so!

Just then, they heard a polite cough coming from the archway, "I hate to break up the lovebirds," Xander said, "But Angel's own the phone. He says it's important."

As Buffy's lips left his, Spike almost whimpered from the loss, "Harris," he growled, "Anyone ever tell you you're a Hell of a buzz kill, mate?"
***************

As Drusilla walked the quiet cobblestone streets of Prague, she remembered how loving William had been during those long nights when all she could see was the pain; the pain was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She knew that her bright boy was in pain now, and needed her, soon.

She had to be certain everything was ready.



Drusilla held the little trinket lightly in her hands. If she twisted her wrist just so, she could see the starlight twinkle inside. The way the light played tag in the small sphere, it was difficult to believe that something so big and so important could ever fit inside such a tiny space. Drusilla thought, perhaps, if she smashed the bauble against the cobblestones beneath her feet, she would be able to catch it, like she had caught the firebugs in a jar when she was a child. If she could catch it, then it would be hers to keep, for always and ever.

William was always so good at hunting the things she had lost. If it were to be found, William would help her find it, just as he always had.

Drusilla remembered asking her Daddy once, soon after William came to live with them, where it had gone. He had become cross, and told her that it had flown away, just like her other birds, and wouldn't sing for her anymore.

Hours later, William had come home, wrapped her up lovingly in his arms, and whispered, "Hush now, princess," William said, kissing her brow, "Would a lion be punished for simply being a lion?"

Drusilla sighed and said, "No."

William smiled, "Princess, if a lion is being just that, a lion, if she is being a hunter, and the antelope her prey, and the lioness hunts and kills its prey, so that she, and her cubs, survive, does that make the lioness evil, for having ate the antelope, or the antelope good?"

Drusilla shook her head, "No," she whimpered, the tears coming up again.

"And, if the antelope had done nothing else, in its entire life, except be food for the lioness, where would the antelope be?" he asked, kissing her temple lightly.

"I do not know," Drusilla wailed, "Daddy will not tell me where it has flown to!"

William turned her in his arms so that he could look into her eyes, "Ah, but Drusilla, that is, perhaps, because Daddy does not, indeed, know where it has gone," he bit his lip in thought, then his eyes twinkled like starlight, and he said, "But, I believe that I may know where it has gone!"

"You do," she asked, "Oh, goody," she clapped her hands with delight, "Please tell me, so that I can find it!"

"I shall show you, princess. Tomorrow night, come with me to the cemetery, and I will show you."

And, William did show her. On the grave marker, in the convent cemetery, the next night, was the message: Racing Heavenward. It made Drusilla happy, beyond words, to know that William had known where to find her lost treasure. And, surly, if William needed her help, her Daddy could give back what he had taken from her. Surly, he would let her have her songbird back so that she could sing with the angels.
****************

Buffy took the cell phone from Xander, "What is it," Buffy asked, her voice small, and tight with worry, "and hurry it up, because I really should get back to Spike," she held the phone away from her mouth, "Xander, will you go check on him please?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, heading down the long passageway to the chamber.

As Xander made his way, slowly through the dark and winding maze, he thought of another night, almost like this one, three weeks ago. He'd been embarrassed, having to interrupt two people who were obviously in love with one another, to relay a message about Robin Wood's death. Seeing Buffy and Spike together, like that, made him feel a pang of guilt over Anya.

When Buffy left the chamber to take the call, Spike had asked him to stay, because, he had something he wanted to tell him.

Xander looked, nervously, down at Spike. Spike sounded tired as he said, "Take it easy, Harris, I'm not going to bite you," his eyes moved up to follow the direction in which, Buffy had just left, "But if you tell Buffy any of what I'm about to say to you, I just might make an exception, got it?"

"Got it," Xander said.

"Good. Harris, that kiss just now? It hurt like Hell, but I wouldn't dream of hurting Buffy by telling her that. I also know that, without human blood, this is gonna get bad, Harris. Do you follow me?"

"Yeah."

"So bad, that Buffy might have to make a decision she doesn't want to make," Spike closed his eyes, "If it comes to that, if she can't make that decision, if I'm too far gone before Angelus can track Dru, and bring her here, I want you to do it. Understand?" Spike asked, his eyes pleading.

Xander nodded, grimly, "I understand," he said.

"That's settled then. I think I hear her coming," as Buffy reentered the crypt, Spike smiled up at her, and Xander heard him ask Buffy, as he was leaving to go back on watch, "Hello, Sunshine, how was your day at the office?"

Xander winced a little at the artificial cheerfulness. He didn't think he could handle this kind of responsibility. Well, Xander thought, time to grow up.
*********************

Buffy strode the stone corridors, straining her voice, so as not to disturb Spike in her anger, "Angel, just how long does it take to send condolence flowers to the grieving widow, and get your sorry ass back here," she yelled, listening to his answer, "The funeral was two weeks ago. Are you trying to tell me that Drusilla made an appearance? She didn't? Well, where is she now, because she sure as Hell isn't here," Buffy rolled her eyes in the air at the absurdity of Angel's excuse, "You know, I think Spike was right. I think you are trying to kill him! Hero?! You want to see a hero, get your ass back to Los Angeles, before the only real hero here," Buffy sniffed back her tears. Spike wouldn't want her to cry, not now, "is really gone, and not coming back," Buffy closed the phone, with a loud snap, "Asshole!"
********************

The comment Buffy made about heroics made Angel think about the aftermath of the battle that night. He didn't think he would ever forget the sight of Spikes burned body, lying on the asphalt behind the Hyperian Hotel.

Angel had crawled over to him, his fingers trying to determine if Spike was lying face up or face down, and also trying to decide where the best place to take shelter would be, when he heard, very slow, very deliberate, footsteps coming up the alleyway to meet him, He tried to keep his voice steady as he said, "Hang on, Spike, I've got you."

"Well, we knew you'd be a star, but no one in the Home Office bet on this," the voice was gleeful.

Angel looked up to see a man, in a grey business suit and red tie, "Holland Manners," he hissed, "What do you want here!" Angel blinked away the tears that were blinding him.

"To congratulate you, of course! We didn't think you could do it, but you did. You corrupted something that was, nearly, incorruptible," Holland shook his head in grim fascination, "A soul. And with things as pedestrian as greed and envy. You should be proud of yourself," he nodded toward Spike's charred form, "We couldn't have taken him out without your help. He was a real champion for the other side."

Angel's voice was hoarse with grief. A grief he didn't know he could feel until this very moment, "He's not out yet! And, he's still a champion," Angel ignored Holland and addressed Illyria," Saint Benedict's Church is just a few blocks over. There's an old root cellar that leads to the sepulcher beneath the sanctuary. Take Spike there. I'll follow you."

Angel watched as Illyria picked Spike up in her arms, and sped off toward the church. He turned toward Holland, "No one from the Home Office would dare set foot in a holy place," Angel hissed, "If they do, I'll kill them."

Angel's vision came back to the present, and he said to Riley, "We're going back to Los Angeles."

"But what about Drusilla?" Riley asked.

"Her boy needs her. She'll know it. And, she'll come."
***************

Buffy snuggled close to the still form in the crypt. Spike stopped speaking about ten days ago, but she knew he was still aware because of the little mewls of pain that he gave every now and then. As she snuggled down close, trying to give him her warmth, she said, "Now, I don't know what kind of songs you used to sing, when you were a kid, other than 'Never leave me', which, by the way, you promised. So I'll sing one I liked. And don't make fun of my singing," Buffy said, secretly hoping that he would, just so that she could hear him again, "Ready? Here goes... 'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you..." Buffy whispered the rest into Spike's ear, " 'Please don't take my sunshine away.'"