Chapter 20
Reflections of Grief

Drusilla knew that she had to wait for the right time. If she rushed, things would get all jumbled, and neither Miss Edith, nor she, would get what she wanted. Her Daddy had already promised to help her get back what was stolen from her, so that wasn't the worrisome part. The worrisome part was William. The sprite had burrowed so deep inside of him now, that it was hard to tell where she ended, and he began. Just how did one begin to separate the wheat from the tears, when they were all mingled into one? If she didn't wait until the stars aligned themselves, she might destroy the thing she hoped to save, and, that wouldn't do at all.

True, William would be cross with her, for a time, but he would come to see her way on things, he always had before.
***************************

"Bit, do you think you could call Red in here, for me?"

"What do you need, Spike? I can get you whatever you need," Dawn said.

"Normally, you'd be the one I'd ask, but what I have to ask about might bring back some unpleasant memories for you. I know the subject brings me nausea, so I don't want to bring you anymore bad feelings, in regards to me."

Dawn looked at Spike's eyes; they looked like they had right before Doc pushed him off the tower. Something clicked, and she understood, "You're scared, aren't you?" she asked, sympathetically.

Spike was chagrined. His Little Bit still knew where all his vulnerable points were. She still knew that, two minutes alone with her, and he was rolling over, like a sodding pup, and exposing his soft underbelly to her, "Yeah, Bit, I am. Drusilla's mind is so full of twists and turns that even I got dizzy at times. I don't like the idea of the Slayer going into this blindfolded, and with her hands tied. Drusilla can be incredibly cruel, at times; learned well from her Daddy, she did. I need to know how far Buffy will go, for me, if she's driven to it."

Dawn remembered the hollow, far away look in Buffy's eyes that day, on the Hellmouth. She'd tried to use humor, the tried and true Scooby way of dealing with staring into the face of Death, but the most she'd gotten out of Buffy was a ghost of a smile. The look on her sister's face made her heart hurt, and the fact that Buffy didn't speak, for hours afterward, only confirmed her worst fears: Spike was dead. Really dead; her best friend was dust, and he wasn't coming back. And she hadn't told him how sorry she was.

Dawn didn't want to tell Spike how Buffy had refused to let the bus move an inch, from the spot where it had stopped, until well into the wee hours of the next morning. She didn't want to tell him, how, after waking up, with a kink in her neck, from a fitful night's sleep, on the bus seat, she found Buffy climbing down into the crevasse, in the desert, that just that morning, had been a small town; had once been her home. Dawn found Buffy frantically digging in the earth with her bare hands. When Dawn called down to her, Buffy's face looked back at her, tear-stained, and anguished, "He could still be here, Dawn," she'd sobbed, digging further into the dirt and debris, "All I have to do is keep digging. Just a little deeper, and I know I'll find him. I know he's here," she whimpered, "He has to be. He promised."

"Promised what, Buffy?" Dawn asked, trying to soothe her sister, and trying not to show her sister how much Spike's death had really affected her.

"He promised he'd never leave me, Dawnie," Buffy's voice became a high-pitched wail of grief, but she never stopped throwing aside handfuls of sand and dirt, "I don't want him to have to dig himself out. I know what that's like, Dawn. I can't leave him here," in the moonlight, Dawn could see the black glow of blood on her hands. She'd dug until her fingers bled, trying to find a love her heart realized too late.

Dawn stayed there, along with her friends, who had gathered at the edge of the gap, silently sending her sister all the love she couldn't give Spike. She'd tried to coax Buffy out of the spot that had become Spike's grave, but she wouldn't come. A part of Dawn wanted to climb down and help her, because it was hard to believe that Spike was really gone.

It wasn't until the sun started to come over the horizon, and Buffy knew that there was no hope, that Buffy climbed out of the gap, sobbing, bleeding, and exhausted, and left him there to rest, forever.

By the look on Dawn's face, Spike could tell she was reliving some very painful memories. Her bright face had aged fifty years, just in the last thirty seconds, "God, Bit, I'm sorry," he apologized.

"No Spike, don't. It's all right," she smiled, "Now that you're here, it all seems like a bad dream."

"Could turn into a nightmare, if Buffy goes in blind. Drusilla may be crazy, but she's patient, when she wants something, she'll wear you down, use every trick in her arsenal, to bring you around to the point where the only way out is the way she's cleared for you. I don't like to think of the things Dru could cook up. Vengeance is her favorite thing. She dances in it," he sighed, "If Buffy's written Dru onto her dance card, in exchange for me, she needs to know the steps."

"Vengeance," Dawn was shocked, "Why would Drusilla want vengeance on Buffy?"

"For what Buffy did, without even trying, Bit," he smiled, sadly, at her, "Stole what had been hers, for over one hundred years."

Dawn nodded, her face matching his, showing a mixture of sadness and joy, at being together again, "You mean your heart, don't you, Spike?"

"Yeah, Bit," he said, "my heart."

"In that case," Dawn heaved a sigh, "Do you remember what you felt like, after Buffy died?"

He did remember. Only his love for Dawn had kept him from walking into daylight. He'd been numb. The only thing that let him know he existed was the nightly patrol, with that cursed Buffybot. And even then, having her image there, close enough to touch, and have it be a lie, ripped his guts out, every night. The thing was insipid, but in an Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole sort of way, he'd needed it with him. Some feeling was better than being numb.

"Yes," even saying the word, brought the pain back.

"You remember, you would have, you did, do everything in your power, to have her back again," Dawn said, "I know you, if you could have, you would have turned the earth, spinning in the opposite direction. Just like the superhero in that movie?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Magnify that by a million, and that's what Buffy, or I, would do for you," Dawn said, tears welling in her eyes, "To have you back."

"Oh God, Bit, I didn't know. If I had known..."

Dawn watched tears creep down Spike's cheeks, "It's going to be okay, Spike. Buffy will be all right."

"I'm terrified for her, Bit," he looked up at her, unable to keep the fear from showing on his face, "Truly terrified. Dru will kill her."


Chapter 21
Spider Web

*******************

Angel knew that it had been a dream. Holland hadn't really been there, but the things he'd said still hurt. And now, with Dru holding Spike's cure over his head, things just went from bad to worse. When he'd made that promise, he would have said anything, up to, and including, pledging his own soul, to Drusilla, just to get the image of Spike, lying on that cold stone, weak and emaciated, because of him, out of his head. And, Dru knew this and used it, to perfection. He smiled at the irony. She was truly Angelus's little girl, learned her lessons well. She was a true work of art, his Drusilla. He should have been proud, and the sick part of this was, his demon was in a corner of his mind laughing. A part of him was proud of her. Drusilla had constructed such an intricate spider web, that every possible move had been planned for, and countered.

Drusilla had the perfect weapon in Buffy's love for Spike. The more Buffy loved him, the more anyone around him cared, the tighter the snare became, until there was no way out. Drusilla was a true woman scorned. A woman with nothing to lose; and, that type of woman was dangerous.

Angel had been unprepared for the feelings the sight of William would evoke in him. Until the moment he'd laid eyes on his immobile, withered frame, Angel couldn't say he'd felt an ounce of kinship with him. The idea of Spike's demise had always been just that, an idea, in the abstract. William, in Angel's mind, had been, and would always be a fighter. He'd always been a nuisance. But, Spike was the kind of nuisance that, in fact, was never a nuisance at all. He was someone you only missed, that much more, when they weren't there.

It wasn't until that moment that he realized that Spike could really die. It was then that Angel realized, maybe for the first time, that he truly loved Spike, and Shanshu or not, Angel didn't want to see him suffer, not for his arrogance and greed.

Drusilla knew this, and she held Spike's existence hostage, in order to get him to help her lay, and trip, her trap for both Spike and Buffy. Without knowing it, Angel had become entangled in Drusilla's web. If he did as Drusilla asked, Spike would live, but Buffy, most likely, would not, and Spike, full of righteous anger and grief, would probably beat him to dust. If he warned them, Drusilla would let Spike slowly starve to death. Because even if Angel fed Spike nightly, until he was dust, nothing would really help, until the serum was cleared from Spike's system, and he was able to take in human blood again. And, that couldn't happen without Drusilla. If Spike died, once and for all, and Buffy found out he had something to do with it, she would stake him. And, surprisingly, he'd welcome it.

This morning, after Buffy had left the hotel to check on Spike's progress, Drusilla had come to him. It was then that Angel realized the scope of her madness.
*************************

Dawn held Spike as he wept. He was weeping out of fear, and hopelessness. She knew this kind of fear. She'd felt it herself, staring into that big chasm, knowing that the last words she'd said, directly to him, had been threats of violence, "Spike, she'll be all right. You know she will," she smiled, as he released his hold on her, to try and dry his tears, "She kicked your butt, up and down Main Street, more than once. What can Drusilla do, that you haven't tried to?"

He nodded, "But I pulled my punches, even from the beginning, because I didn't really want to see her dead," his eyes widened as his mind caught up with what his mouth had let slip, "And, if you tell her I said that, I will bite you, Bit."

She only smiled, and hugged him. Spike was surprised, "What's this then, Bit?" he asked, returning the gesture, as firmly as his weakened body would allow.

When he saw her eyes again, the adoration would have taken his breath away, "There you are," she said, "I knew you were in there somewhere," she said, as she embraced him again.

Spike closed his eyes, and surrendered, taking in the mixture of dime-store perfume, cherry scented lip gloss, and bubble gum, that clung to her skin, and hair. A scent that he'd taken comfort in before, and now, at this moment, thanked the heavens he could again, "I love you, Dawn. Until the end of the world," he whispered in her ear, and felt the warmth of her love's glow.

"Me too, you," she murmured.
***************************

"No, Dru, you can't ask me to do that," he hissed, her insane ramblings still ringing in his ears, "I won't do it."

"But, Daddy, you promised," she said, coldly, " And if you don't, Miss Edith still gets her prize," there was a wicked gleam in her eye, "But it will hurt William so much more," she shook her finger at him, and clicked her tongue, "You and I both don't want that. Neither does Miss Edith."

Angel looked at her, hoping there was a corner of sanity left, somewhere in her, he hoped he hadn't driven her beyond the reason of a mother's love, "But, Dru," he pleaded, "hurting him will taint Miss Edith's prize," Angel gave her a sidelong glance, "He'll leave you, out in the cold, if you do this. He'll hate you, and Miss Edith, forever."

"Only for a little while," she said, "He'll see that it was the right thing, in time," she told him, nodding to herself.

"And, how do you convince Buffy to let you do this," he asked, "She's the Slayer, Dru. She'll fight you."

"I know that. She thinks she loves William. I want to see how much. Does she love him enough to give up that precious mote of dust that keeps her floating here?" she paused, and tilted her head, listening to the air speak, "She's overstayed her welcome, and, that's not polite. It's time for her to say goodnight. Miss Edith just wants what was hers once. She was happy once," Drusilla whimpered, "She only wants to be happy again."

"When William knows the price. When he knows what you have done," Angel shook his head, dizzy from her madness, "He'll stake you, you know that."

"If he does, than I'll be with Miss Edith, like I should have been, a long time ago."

Angel paced the small room, "And, if Spike is strong enough to stop you," he pointed an accusatory finger at her, "What happens then?"

Drusilla's tone was confident, "Then we'll all see who it is that William loves, the best."
**************************

Angel listened to the cadence of her heartbeat, two floors below him, and slowly rising, in the old hotel. He had hoped that she would stay away. The longer she stayed away from Drusilla, and him, the less time Drusilla had to spring her trap. Angel was finally learning from Spike. This time, there really was strength in numbers. As long as Buffy stayed with Spike, and her friends, she was safe. If she were isolated, then Drusilla would make her move.

Buffy should have been with Spike right now, but instead, she was here, coming closer and closer to his door, until she was knocking on it, "Angel, you in there?"

"Yeah," he said, as he opened the door, "Come in."

Buffy walked into the room, then turned to face Angel, "Angel I want to ask you something, about Spike."

"Go ahead," he nodded.

"Angel, ever since the night of the battle, at times, I've been able to hear Spike in my head," she rubbed her temples with her fingertips, as if she were trying to call him up so that he could help her explain things to him, "Yet, I remember, when I had that telepathic ability, from the demon, you said that vampires don't cast a thought reflection," she shrugged, "So, what gives?"

He started pacing the room, "The nearest I can figure is that it's some sort of adrenaline rush," Angel looked at her confused face, "The nearest thing I can think of, in a human, is the rush a mother gets when she knows her baby is trapped under a car, and, who, suddenly has the strength to lift the car off of the child. She has superhuman strength; can do things that would, under normal circumstances, be impossible," he gave Buffy a sad smile, "And, you know, Spike. For him, nothing is out of reach. If any vampire could do what seems impossible, it would be Spike."

Buffy nodded, "I know. Thanks for telling me," she sighed, and turned toward the door, "Now, I'm off to bed, by decree of Spike."

Angel nodded, "You know not to let Dru into your room, right?"

She was incredulous, "Angel, you do know who I am, don't you? Plenty of sunshine to hide in, and she's not crossing my threshold any time soon."

"Good," Angel sighed, as he closed the door.
**********************************

Spike looked at he nauseatingly bright rabbits that adorned his gown, and winced, "Bit," he said, "I realize that this was probably the only thing Harris could pinch, at hospital, but now that I'm a bit more myself, do you think maybe we could go for something a bit more, 'E.R.', and a little less vomit inducing?"

"Sure," Dawn winked, "I'll tell Willow to get you some nice, green scrubs," she shook her head, "Those bunnies were starting to make me sick, no offense."

"None taken," he smiled. "The only thing offensive here, is Harris's fashion sense."
************************

Buffy opened her eyes to darkness. The air smelled of metal, and dust. The heat was oppressive. Her chest stung as her lungs drew in the stale air. She had smelled this smell before, felt this kind of heat. The last time she'd smelled this was when she was inside the old factory that Spike and Drusilla had used as a hideout back in Sunnydale.

As Buffy's eyes adjusted, she saw Angel, crouched on the floor, his face smeared with dust. He looked at her, his tears causing white streaks in the dark ash that clung to his face, and hands, "Buffy, I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

Buffy woke with a start, and raced the five blocks to Spikes apartment, with her heart in her throat, hoping it wasn't true. Her brain chanted the mantra, "He can't be dead. He can't be dead," in time with the staccato rhythm of her boots on the pavement.

She burst through the door, surprising both Dawn and Spike when she asked, "Spike, are you all right?" she was looking him over with wild, worried eyes.

Spike tried to soothe the emotions that he felt crashing off of her, with a smile, "Aside from this awful gown, I've got on?" he nodded when he felt her heart calm, "I'm fine, Slayer, no worries."

"Thank God," she sighed, in relief.
***************************

Drusilla smiled to herself, "Soon, Miss Edith," she said, "Soon, we'll make our move. The web is in place, now the thing to do is wait, just a little longer. And, Daddy will be so proud."

Chapter 22 - Battle Fatigue

She had intended to give the Slayer a trip to the woodshed and then leave. But after seeing the images that ran through William's head, while she was nursing him, Drusilla had changed her mind. Now she wasn't going to be satisfied until she saw the Slayer's blood flowing. Nothing else would do.

She really had wanted to listen to Miss Edith, and make William well again, and leave him to fly. After all, a boy can't stay with his mother forever, no matter how much a mother loved her babies, they all must grow up, and leave the nest.

But then, those sticky sweet images started flashing in William's eyes, and Miss Edith got sad. There were so many things she couldn't have. She knew that. But William made it a little better; he was gentle, as he could be. But in all those pictures that hurried in William's brain, not one of them was of his dark princess. Drusilla had been with him for a hundred years or more, and in the blink of an eye, that sprite had made him forget her. The rage boiled up inside Drusilla. She would pay for wiping her from William's mind. Drusilla would make William remember her again.

That nasty little Slayer had just given her the upper hand. William knew better than to trust a desperate lioness, the little girl, however, had no such insight.
**********************

Illyria rushed in after Buffy, ready to defend her pet, from further harm.

"Easy there, Blue," Spike rushed to say, watching the murderous glow Illyria aimed at Buffy, "there's no fire, here. She wants to keep me as safe and sound as you do. Stand down, Highness."

"Are you certain," she asked, clearly wary of complying with the request.

"Yes," he nodded, " Leave us, for some time, all right? Take the Bit with you, when you go, would you," Spike looked at Dawn, and smiled shyly, "No, offense, Bit. See what Red can do about the wardrobe, would you?"

"None taken," she nodded, as she pushed Illyria, reluctantly, out the door.
****************************

Angel sank in his chair, his hand loosely gripping the mug of otter's blood. He shook his head again, trying to figure out when Drusilla had gone completely off the deep end. When he'd brought her to Spike, she seemed to understand that this wasn't about her, it was about Spike's health. Then, after the first feeding, she'd gone from angel of mercy, to screaming banshee of vengeance in a snap.

Angel still couldn't make sense of her murky quagmire of a mind. The only being, on earth, who understood her, was Spike. He wondered just where things had gotten so bad.

A comforting voice came from the doorway, "Yeah, things really seem to be circling the drain, don't they?"

He blinked, "Cordy, what are you doing here?"

She smiled a warm smile, "Come on, I had to keep my guy from imploding, didn't I? Angel, that vision was just supposed to be broad stokes," she was excited, "You weren't supposed to make it come true! It was just a warning, not an established fact," she shook her head, "Geesh, Angel, don't you have any imagination?"

"You know the answer to that question," Angel said, flatly.

She winced, "Yeah, I do. You're pretty much a paint-by-the-numbers kind of vamp," she brightened a little, "Still, this can still work out. You can still pull victory out of Wolfram and Hart's jaws. It doesn't have to be all gloom and doom, here, does it?"

He was too tired, "Cordy, have you been watching, wherever you are? Where's the silver lining here," he asked, "I lost Buffy," he ticked the points off, on his fingers, "I lost my son, twice, I lost you. I lost Fred, and Wesley, Darla and Gunn. And, let's not forget Nina," he shielded his eyes with his hand, "And now, God help me, I shouldn't even care, but I do, now I may lose Spike. I even lost my chance at the Shanshu," his voice betrayed the emotion stirring in him, "So, Cordy, please tell me, how can I make this better?"

She shrugged, "Search me," she smiled, "I used to be a cheerleader, so looking for the good part of a bad situation is sort of a habit," she looked at Angel's scowling face, "Doesn't mean there isn't one," she nodded, "We just have to put our heads together, like we always did, and find one."
***********************

"Good," Spike sighed, "that heartbeat of yours has gone from a rapid snare drum to a nice, steady base drum. Now, could you please let me hold you? You're shaking like a leaf, Slayer, I can see the gooseflesh from here."

Buffy shuffled over to the bedside, silently praying that he wasn't a dream, that the nightmare that started almost four months ago, with a rainy night, and a clandestine meeting, had finally ended, and that the soft baritone voice and those bright blue eyes were real. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a little voice told her to believe, but the image of Angel covered in ash, was hard to shake, "Now," she said, with a tone of disbelief, "it's my turn to ask you, are you a dream?"

He shook his head, "Nope, this part's real. Whatever it was that caused the stress on that little ticker of yours, though, was not. That, I'm almost certain of."

"Almost?" she asked, sitting, softly, on the bed.

"Well," Spike looked down, almost bashful, Buffy could have sworn he was actually blushing, "I've had a few dreams that would have set my heart racing, if it'd been beating, that is."

Buffy's face was grim, "Any of those dreams of yours feature Angel, in a starring role, covered in your ash?"

"Ah," he nodded, "Can't say I've had that pleasure. Wouldn't give the ponce the satisfaction, as my present condition will attest," he reached to stroke her cheek with his palm, "Slayer dream, you think?"

"Don't know," she confessed, "It scared me, though."

"Scared is good," Spike agreed, "Scared keeps you alive. Especially when it comes time to pay the piper," he said, his eyes level with hers, showing her that he knew what she had been trying to hide.

Buffy tried to evade his laser-like gaze, but he, gently, drew her eyes back to him with a push of his thumb, "Look at me," he said, his voice teetering on a whisper, "I know that Drusilla didn't just, all of the sudden, feel the milk of human kindness start flowing, in the soul I know she hasn't got, and decide to give the 'White Hats' a freebie," Buffy could see his strong gaze brighten a little as he looked at her, "It's you for me, isn't it? That's the 'deal' you made with Dru?"

Buffy nodded, afraid to meet his eyes, "Yeah," she choked, "that was the deal."

Buffy felt Spike start to shake, she didn't know whether it was from anger or fear, or something else, "Oh, Buffy," he growled, through clenched teeth, "If I didn't love you so much, I would let you go, like a lamb to the slaughter," his eyes were a swirl of both amber and blue, Buffy had never seen them like that before, "As it is though, I do love you. I love you too much to just kiss you and send you off to your death..."

Buffy was a little wounded, "Hey, Slayer here, you know!" she interrupted.

"Yes," Spike hissed, "But, you aren't the only one, now, are you? That has to have consequences. Magic always does. You may be just weak enough for Dru to slip in and have that, 'One good day' I shot my mouth off about. And," his eyes gleamed at her, "I'm not letting that happen. If a cage match was part of the bargain, then I'm helping you get ready. No one, not even Angelus, knows Dru better than I do," he nodded firmly, his mind set, "You and I, Slayer, are going to train," he smiled, "It'll be just like old times."

"But Spike," she said, not wanting to douse the fire in his eyes, "I hate to break it to you, but, you can't even stand up. You actually think we're going to go a few rounds with me at full-tilt, and you at...less?"

"What," he winked, "You never heard of a second wind? Well, I just got mine. All we have to do now is wait for Bit to come back with a change of clothes," he shook his head, looking down at the pastel animals on the gown he was wearing, and pinched the cloth out, so that Buffy could see it, then looked up at her with a sad, pleading, face, "Does Harris really hate me this much," he asked, then with a sigh, added, "I just cannot be the 'Big Bad' with a costume emblazoned with psychedelic bunnies!"

Buffy couldn't help it, the look on his face and the tone of his voice, reminded her of a sulking toddler. Buffy knew, that if he could, he would be stomping his foot right now. She tried to stop the tickle from rising in her, but by the time she knew it was there, it was already too late, she started laughing, and she couldn't stop.

"Oh, you'll die all right," Spike was saying, "Of sodding laughter! See, you're giggling already!"

"Sorry Spike," Buffy said, as she clamp her hand over her mouth to try and stop the laughter from escaping, "It's just that, I missed you so much," her eyes shone, "It's so good to have you back."

"That's right. I am back. And, I'm not letting Dru take you for me, so you can forget that, you hear?"

Buffy's mood suddenly dampened, "But, if she knows you're well enough to train, then, won't Drusilla want her payment? It is what I promised."

"Could be a few weeks before we cross that bridge, Pet," he kissed her lips, with a feather soft touch, that made her tremble against his hands, "But, at least now, you've got someone in the trenches with you," he looked in her eyes, and he thought he saw the beginnings of the glowing light he'd seen in his dream, in them, "I love you. You're not alone, in this fight. I've got your back, Slayer."

"That's good to know," she said.



Looking into Spike's eyes, it was easy to see why Drusilla had been attracted to him, all those years ago. The light, burning in his eyes, was so warm and inviting, so all encompassing, that Buffy would have done anything to have it. This was the kind of light that warmed you, even with it's dying embers. Now, she understood why Drusilla had turned the young man that William was, instead of just feeding on him. And, she silently thanked her. Without her, Buffy might never have gotten the chance to see what real love looked like. The kind of intensity she was seeing would be the perfect weapon. Those eyes could look into someone's soul, and pull out even the most well guarded secret, without even lifting a finger.

Buffy tried to swim against the waves of love she saw and found her voice, "How did you know?" she asked.

He sighed, "I know what I would have done, if it had been you," his eyes softened, as his voice gained strength, "After that night at the tower, I spent months, running up and down that infernal thing," he grimaced at the memory, "I must have done it thousands of times, over and over again, at times, until just before sunrise. There were times when Nibblet would have to talk me down, and get me to safety, because I wouldn't save myself. I was always trying to push myself, even though my bones hadn't healed from the fall, I didn't care. I had to find that fraction of a second, the time that I let slip through my fingers, I had to have it back, so that I could save you. I was desperate, for a long time. I didn't see how desperate I had become until I saw the reflection of it, in Bit's eyes," he gestured toward the closed door, "I saw that look, again, just now, in her eyes. I knew you were desperate enough to do almost anything," he nodded knowingly, "I knew from experience. I took an educated guess."

Buffy sighed and shook her head, giving up the fight against the tears, "I'm clear as glass, aren't I," she blinked to see him clearly, "I don't know why I even try to hide from you," she inhaled, gathering her courage, "You're right, I am desperate. I have been, ever since everything, and everyone," she felt the grief tearing at her throat as she fought to remind herself that he was real, and he loved her, " I ever cared about got sucked into a giant hole," she sniffed back the tears, and looked at his quicksilver eyes, "I can still taste the dust in my mouth. It made me sick to my stomach, but I needed it, because it reminded me of you."

Spike fell back against the pillows, suddenly overcome with revulsion at the turmoil he had put her through, needlessly, "Buffy, I'm so sorry," he gulped, " I'm sorry. I thought seeing you again would diminish me, and my sacrifice somehow, in your eyes."

"Diminish," she was aghast, "has the lack of plasma cooked your brain cells? Did coming back from the grave, after the tower," she swallowed hard, "Did that diminish what I did," her voice lowered to a whisper, "in your eyes?"

"No," Spike said, in a sad whisper, "Buffy, don't ever think that."

"Then why would you?" she asked.

"I love you," Spike confessed.

Buffy looked down, shyly, "Yeah, like I haven't heard that before."
*********************************************



Dawn came back from the uniform store, she didn't think Spike would let her steal anything again, after her foray into the world of larceny, even if it was for him, with Willow. There was nothing in the forest green family, so she'd chosen a robin's egg blue shade, that she thought matched Spike's eyes. And, it didn't have cartoons on it, so that was a plus.

She saw Riley, standing in front of Spike's door, watching to make sure, nothing happened to him, "Hey, Riley," she said, lounging against the aging brick façade of the building, squinting to protect her eyes from the sun, "How are things going?"

"All quiet, right now," he said, "But that's pretty much par for the course for vampires," Riley smirked, and looked over his shoulder at the door, "Vampires who aren't Spike, that is. There have been rumblings. But, no offense, I am not looking in there. The idea of Buffy and him being together," he made a face that reminded Dawn of how her sister looked the last time she cooked dinner, for the two of them. Buffy was sick for a week, "it still is disgusting to me."

"Then, why are you helping?" Dawn asked.

"Because, I owe him," Riley said, "not only did he save the world from being overrun by a sub-species of vampires, he also saved me from a pretty dangerous addiction. Though, at the time, I was more concerned with the fact that he'd ratted me out, to my girlfriend," he sighed, "Then, he proceeds to do things that I really don't want to know about, with the aforementioned girlfriend. Which, still gets my bile up. But, I do owe him," he shrugged, "So, here I am."

"Oh, life's funny, huh?"

"Yeah," Riley agreed, "it's a real laugh riot, Dawn. If you want to go in, I suggest you knock first."

She nodded, and knocked on the door, "Buffy, Spike, it's me, Dawn. I've got some brand new clothes for you, Spike."
********************

Buffy reluctantly left to answer the door, "Thanks Dawn," she said, taking the bundle of clothes from her sister.

"No problem. They didn't have any green that wouldn't make you look dead though, Spike," she smiled, "so I went with the blues. I think it kind of matches your eyes. I got the ones I thought would fit. You're kind of...,"she felt the heat of his gaze, from the doorway, "smaller than I remember," she looked at Buffy, hoping she would see that she hadn't meant to upset Spike, but, it was the truth, " I hope they fit."

"Thanks, Bit, I'll be needing a loose fit anyway. Don't want to aggravate the skin too much, if it can be helped," the tone in his voice told Dawn that he understood, completely, "Now, if you'll call Finn in here, we can get down to business."

The look on Buffy's face, as she held up a finger, telling Dawn to wait, said that this was unexpected. Buffy shut the door, quietly, then turned and looked, sadly, at Spike, "If you need help, Spike, I want to give it. You don't have anything I haven't seen before, and in worse shape than it is now, I bet."

"Yeah," Spike nodded, "I know. But, like you said, before I couldn't argue. Now I can, and unlike the demon, the soul makes me a touch more modest," he closed his eyes, praying she would understand, and drop the subject, "And, I don't want you to see me like this. I need to get cleaned up, and this could take a while. I don't want you to see me struggling to reach the loo."

"Spike, I understand. Believe me, I do," Buffy sat on the bed again, so that Spike could see that she meant what she said. She took his hands in hers, and gave them a gentle squeeze, to show him how deeply she felt, "But I need to do this," she bit her lip, looking at his burned hands. The sight of his damaged skin, reminded her of her own scar; the one she'd received that morning, on the Hellmouth, in another fire, "I need to do this," she continued, "in case I can't later," she said, knowing he would understand what she was implying.

Spike's gaze, and voice turned as cold as blue steel, "There will be a later," he said, the chill in his voice forced Buffy to look up at him, "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she tried to soothe his nerves, with a quiet voice, "I know. But, later has never been a good time for us. So, I have to do this now," Buffy gave him a sly grin, "Of course, if you're afraid I might take advantage of you, we can call Riley in here."

"No," he sighed, in acknowledgement of his defeat, "that won't be necessary, Pet," he shrugged, indicating his total, and complete trust in Buffy, "I'm at your mercy."

"Oh," Buffy cooed, dreamily, "this could be fun," she said, looking into Spike's jubilant eyes.
**************************

Buffy turned off the faucet, checking to make sure that the water was cool enough for Spike. She didn't want the water to aggravate, or overheat his body. The water was pleasantly cool. Too cold for her, but for a vampire, it was perfect.

She straightened up and called out to Spike, "The water's ready, Spike," she appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, and looked at him, her face soft, "How do you want to do this? Do you think you could stand, and walk, or, do you need me to help you?"

Spike shook his head, and hissed in a breath, "Wish I could do this under my own power, but I'm worse off than I was when the First batted my insides around. I'm going to need you to help me. I don't think I'll be able to take baby steps until Dru gets here, at sunset."

Buffy looked at her watch, "Sunset is at 7:30," she said, " That gives us seven hours to make you a little more presentable."
*****************************

Dawn wanted to talk to Willow, but didn't want to take the chance of running into Drusilla, so she had asked Willow to meet her in Saint Benedict's. Dawn kind of liked the cool dimness of the sanctuary. It kind of reminded her of Spike's crypt. She'd felt safe there, and now that Spike was getting better, she was starting to feel safe again.

Dawn knew that Spike knew she had a crush on him, but like the weird vamp he was, he never took advantage of that fact. He never hurt her, intentionally. But she had; she'd hurt him, bad, and she'd done it on purpose.

She was so sorry for that she couldn't begin to tell him how much.
***************************

Buffy tried to be strong as she gently pressed the cool cloth to his skin. He had actually let the soothing circles lull him into sleep. She knew that this was the first real rest he'd had in months, and she was glad that she was able to provide him, even a little, comfort.

She tried not to pay attention to the discolored blotches on his skin, but they crowded her vision. His skin was a mosaic of different colors, all of which were unnatural, for him. Where the skin wasn't black it was purple and red, the kind of red that hurt, even to look at. The kind of red that comes from a wire brush, pressed too hard, and too fast, against sensitive skin. Some of the wounds hadn't closed properly, too long without human plasma, she supposed. She hoped that the rippling effect, in the water, caused by her movements, did not cause him any discomfort. Buffy had almost cried at the sight of him, but Spike had assured her that, after this evening's feeding, he would be back to a more appealing form.

She hated to wake him, "Hey Spike, time to get out, before you start to look like an old prune," she tried to let the smile reach her voice, but it didn't quite make it.

His eyes opened, "Give us a minute, Pet. This is very...soothing. Like what I remember from childhood. I may not cast a reflection, but I do have eyes, Pet," he sighed, and his shoulders rose, and fell, with the effort, "I know I look awful. Being wrinkled, like a prune, might be an improvement."

"Okay," she said, with a pout, "Just five more minutes and then I'm coming in after you," she teased.

"Promises, promises, Pet," he purred, "I noticed a few more scars on you, too, Pet," he nodded toward the hand that held the wet cloth, "Like that scar on your hand, where did that come from? Some nasty thing take a chunk out of you?"

"This," she said, as she rubbed the scar absent-mindedly, "came from Sunnydale. That day," Spike's eyes were intrigued, and bid her continue, "We held hands, Spike," his eyes widened, "Before I left, I held your hand, and it caught fire, like you did."

He reached over to take her hand in his, running his fingers lightly over the raised, white skin, that marred her golden tone, "We did that," he asked, in wonder, at her nod, his expression changed to one of mischief, "Told you we made heat, Pet. Now, here's the proof I was right, all along."

He stretched his neck up, and she leaned over to kiss him, "All right, 'Mister Heat Miser,' time to make you all pretty for Mummy."

"Will do, Pet," Buffy was about to leave, but Spike held tight to her hand, keeping her there, "Thank you, Pet. For this," he looked as if he'd just been given a gift he thought he didn't deserve to have, "It was...nice."

"You're welcome Spike. But, I didn't do all that much."

"You did, Buffy," he nodded, "You did more than you know. I love you," he smirked, "in case I haven't told you lately."

"Ditto, Spike," Buffy smiled, "until the end of the world."



********************

Drusilla was no fool. She knew what the fates had in mind for her. She'd seen it, and she was not afraid. What had to be, had to be, and there was no hiding from it. Hiding only made the fates chase you down. Hiding only made them angry. She knew that, too, her Daddy was an example. He had been running from his fate for over a hundred years, and now, he was tired, and the fates were catching up with him, no matter how hard he ran.

She was only trying to be a good mother, and help her child get rid of the sickness that he had inside of him; a sickness he didn't know he had. The sickness made William blind to how weak it made him. Drusilla knew that she, and Miss Edith, could save him, even if the fates caught up with her soon after, some day, William would know she was right.

Miss Edith reminded her that she was neglecting her guest; it had been so long since she hosted a proper tea, she was a little out of practice, as to what was expected. She turned toward her guest, "It has been so long since I have had the chance to entertain visitors," she said wistfully, "The last gentleman caller that graced my parlor, was my William," her guest nodded, empathetically, "and he was so patient with me, that I could have had the most appalling manners, and he would not have said a word," Drusilla wrung her hands with worry, " Am I doing it right? It's been so long, sometimes I forget things."

Holland's voice was pleasant, "Oh, don't worry, Drusilla," he said as he sipped his cup of Earl Grey, politely, "the tea is just fine. And, I'm sure a lady, such as yourself, never forgets how to be a lady."
************************

Dawn and Willow sat together, enjoying the way the light, coming into the sanctuary as people, carefully, came and went, chased the shadows, making beautiful lace patterns of light on the wall.

Dawn silently thanked whoever was watching after her, because the small shadow play on the wall, brought her the words she needed, "He's kind of like that. You know what I mean, Willow? Spike's both light and dark, at the same time. Taken separately, they both can hurt, but if they're mixed together, in the right way, they can be something wonderful. I don't understand how Angel can claim that the bad things that he did, weren't his responsibility. Spike's not a different person now; he's the same Spike he's always been. He's just Spike, with a soul; in fact, he wouldn't have that soul, if he hadn't realized that it was he who tried to do that awful thing to Buffy that night, and tried to make it right, somehow. Spike knew he was the only one who'd done it. How does Angel get off saying that the things he did weren't his fault? Angel and Angelus aren't two separate people, so why does he get a free pass?"

Willow took a deep breath before she jumped into that mess. For such a small girl, Dawn thought some pretty big thoughts. Maybe it was a side effect of being an eternal Key, "I don't know, Dawn," Willow said, wondering how to put this into words that didn't sound self-serving, "maybe making the things he did separate in his mind, made them easier to deal with," she held Dawn closer, "I know that, if I could I would pawn off what I did as dark-eyed Willow on someone else," she looked down, and whispered the rest, "but I can't. It was me, and I know that," Willow's voice got stronger, " I think Angel's been running from what he did, for a long time," she shook her head, in commiseration with Dawn's confusion, "But, no one can run forever. Sooner or later, it all will catch up with him," her mind went over the events of the past few months, "Maybe it's already started," she said.
*************************

Spike had said that if he wasn't careful, he'd get swallowed. And now, here he was, in the belly of a monster that was using him to do something horrible to the only family he had left, with no idea how to get out, or even if it was possible to escape. He had, indeed, been swallowed, and it had happened so slowly that he hadn't even noticed until it was too late.

He shook his head again, pacing by the curtained window, "Cordy, there's no way out of this," he said, grimly, "If I help, Spike could die. If I don't help, Buffy could die, and Spike could die. And, if he doesn't, he'll probably wish he had, and then he'll kill me. This is just like that cube puzzle with the different colors on each side, that you're supposed to mix up, and then put back together again. It's all so intertwined and mixed up that there's no way to put it back the way it was; no way to solve it," Angel sank back into his chair, exhausted and frazzled.

"Take it easy, Angel," Cordy said, trying to help him see that, maybe, there was a way for things to be all right. She didn't really see it, but that wasn't why Angel had brought her here. She was here to help him, and she was going to try, because that is what he needed right now. The Powers were counting on her to help Angel see the pinpoint of light in the dark fog that blocked his vision, "Maybe you're not the key here, Angel," she was saying, "Maybe Spike is the one we should be watching here."

Angel was flummoxed, "Cordy," he said, "right now, Spike couldn't even swat a fly. Just how is he going to fight?"

"You're right," Cordy nodded, "as of now, physically, Spike is weak. But, he's getting stronger the longer Drusilla's here. And, if it comes down to a battle of wits, with Dru, no offense, Angel, but Spike's the one I'd put my money on, not you," she smiled, as something just occurred to her, "Angel," she asked, "just who was it that you signed your life away to?"

"The Circle of Black Thorn," Angel answered.

She nodded, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, "And, how many members are there left?"
************************
Buffy hated to cause him anymore pain, but he was right, he couldn't help her fight if he didn't feel comfortable. If being comfortable meant enduring some pain, she knew Spike could take it. After all, what's a little searing pain after nearly being incinerated...twice?

"Sorry, Spike," she hissed in sympathy, as she watched his face contort in agony as the cloth brushed lightly against his traumatized skin.

"It's all right, Slayer," he groaned, "A little pain," he gritted his teeth as Buffy guided his feet into the trousers, "cleanses the soul," he was calmed a bit by the rhythm that sounded through him as he leaned against her as she slid the trousers past his hips.

The little respite he had was shattered when she knelt in front of him to tie the drawstring at his waste. The demon inside was pounding in his skull; the man was dizzy with desire, her pulse pounded in his brain. The scent of her was driving him mad. He knew, that, if he hadn't been in such a weakened state, the demon would have overtaken him, and that night in her bath would have happened all over again.

He stopped that train of thought. No, he thought, you're the better man. You can control the beast. It doesn't rule you. He stilled her hands, "Pet," he said, gently, hoping she wouldn't notice how close he was to falling over the edge of reason, "best to let a man do up his own trousers, yeah?"

She looked up at him, with shimmering green eyes, "You're sure," she asked.

"It doesn't take all that much energy to tie a knot, Love," he sighed, "I think I can handle that much on my own."

"Well," she hesitated, but something in Spike's eyes told her not to push the issue, "if you're sure," she said, as she stood up.

Spike nodded, slightly, grateful that she had let the conversation drop, "Certain sure, Pet," he told her, "Thank you," his voice was suddenly weaker than he would have wanted it to be, an indication of the tumult going on within, " for trying to help."

"Don't thank me, Spike," she shook her head, at the way their roles had been reversed. There was a time, in the not-so-distant past that she had been the bruised and battered one, and he was her nurse. The only difference was, her injuries hadn't been as obvious, to anyone but him. "I haven't even begun to repay the debt I owe you."

Spike marveled at the tiny woman who held so much power, yet could be as fragile as fine crystal. He loved her so much it was hard to find the words to express just how much, "Buffy," he said, "whatever it is you think you owe me, please, consider the account pain in full."
****************************

There was a knock at the door. Angel looked at bedside clock, still an hour until sundown, this was unexpected. Anyone who knew he was here, knew better than to disturb him until just before sunset, when he would leave to escort Drusilla to Spike's apartment, for his next feeding. The only reason, he could think of, why anyone would be here, at this time of day, was if there was some kind of emergency.

The dread, of that thought, alone drove him to the door, "Is there something wrong with Spike?" he asked, as he opened the door.

Holland Manners shrugged his shoulders, "I honestly couldn't answer that question, Angel," he said, coolly, "But, isn't it strange how great minds think alike? Spike is just who I wanted to speak with you about," he said, as he pushed his way, without much resistance from a shocked Angel, into the apartment.

"If anything's happened to him," Angel fumed, "If you've done anything to him, I swear," Angel growled, grabbing Holland by the lapels of his Brooks Brothers suit, " I will find a way to bring you back to life, just so that I can have the pleasure of killing you all over again."

"My, my," Holland said, calmly, barely phased by Angel's show of force, "such fatherly protectiveness. How the worm has turned," he chuckled.

Angel tossed Holland against his leather sofa, "You came to talk," he bit out, "so talk. Then, get out, you disgusting parasite."

"Name calling does nothing to foster goodwill, Angel," Holland said.

"There's nothing good about any of this, Holland," Angel snapped.

"Ah," Holland said, smugly, "That's why I like you. You don't fuss around, right down to business. Now that we've gotten the idle chatter out of the way, we can get down to why I'm here."

"And, why is that?" Angel hissed.

Holland shook his head, "It's your wayward grandchild, Angel. It's Spike. Something has to be done, before he ruins everything we've built."
**************************

Buffy wanted to make him as comfortable as possible, as she placed him gently on his small bed, "You okay, Spike?" she asked.

Spike tried, unsuccessfully, to fight the wave of bitterness that swelled in him, at the indignity of being carried around, like a child, "I'd be better if I didn't have to have you cart me the five feet from my loo to my bed," he grumbled.

"Spike, I really don't mind," she said, patiently, "And, anyway, Drusilla will be here," she looked at her watch, "in about forty-five minutes. So," she winked at him, and put on a fairly decent imitation of his speech pattern, "no worries, mate."

Spike groaned, and covered his eyes, while at the same time trying to control the loud guffaw that threatened to take control of him, "Buffy, please, don't mutilate the English language any further."

Buffy stopped speaking. She was so quiet that Spike had to look at her, just to be sure she was still in the room. When he did look at her he found her grinning like the Cheshire cat, bouncing like a coiled spring, "I knew I could get a grin," she said, "Don't try to hide it. I know you want to laugh. Go ahead," she said, "This may be a one time offer. You may never get the chance to laugh at me again, without getting a punch in the nose. So, live it up, while you can."

"Oh, Slayer," Spike sighed as he let the laughter roll through him, "you say the sweetest things."
***********************

"So you see the dilemma," Holland said, "He's a wildcard. Unpredictable. The firm has tried to plan for every contingency here; but he's the one factor that's fluid in this equation."

"You don't control me," Angel hissed, eyeing him menacingly.

Holland smiled, an eel's smile, "That's where you'd be wrong, Angel. We've had, any threat you would have posed, to our operation, neutralized for some time. Now, don't you think it's about time you escorted the lady, Drusilla, to her engagement for the evening?"
*******************************

"Just how will you keep Drusilla from knowing that you're going to help me prepare to fight her, Spike?" Buffy asked.

"That's easy, Pet. All I need do, is remind myself how Angelus took advantage of your desperation and grief, to try and claim someone whose heart doesn't belong to him."

Buffy's eyes widened, " Spike, I told you, I did that so that you wouldn't hurt me, when you were out of your head," her voice was gaining pitch, "Please, Spike, don't be angry."

"I'm not angry at you, Buffy," he assured her, "Angelus, however, receives no such courtesy," Spike looked at her stricken face, "Buffy," he said, "he took advantage of you, and of me. He used our mutual grief to keep us apart, for as long as he could. Then, when he couldn't keep us apart, he thought he would use the vampire pecking order to do it. All in the guise of being the benevelent Angel he thinks he is. Makes me want to heave," he said, with disgust, "Before this is over, he'll know who the real champion is around here, if he doesn't know already. You can be sure of that, Pet," Spike said, as he gave Buffy a reassuring kiss, "Now, no worries," he winked, "Put your game face on, Pet. Drusilla will be here soon, and she can be cool as a snake. Best not to get bit."

tbc
*********************
Author's Note: Due to a combination of my own stupidity, and an out-dated computer, some of the reviews for earlier chapters were unintentionally deleted from this fic. The problem with my computer has since been fixed. And, I have beat my head against a wall *rubs head gingerly* for my stupidity. This kind of thing *will not* happen again. I apologize to all my readers, and hope you will forgive me and continue to read and review. I apologize again.

26
Drusilla watched from the safety of her hotel suite as the last blush of daylight faded into dusk. Her Daddy would be here soon. She flittered around the room, making sure everything was in place.

She ran her hands over the carved wood case that contained the bauble and opened it, to be certain that it was safe. She admired the rainbow of light that she could still see playing inside the small space. Drusilla still didn't know how this little, delicate thing was going to help bring her William back to her. The ether was a wicked thing. It was hard to grasp things that couldn't be grasped. But, Holland told her that this would help her be a mother again. He had been such help before that Drusilla saw no reason to disbelieve him, now. Just how this would work she wasn't sure. But, she knew that if she waited the unknown things would come to her.
***********************

Angel strode down the carpeted corridors of the hotel with purpose. How dare Holland imply that he was not his own man. How dare that little eel slither in here and tell him that he was a puppet. Okay, so there was that time that he actually was a puppet, but that was beside the point. No one controlled him. He was his own man. He was a champion, and before this was over, Holland would know it.

He arrived at the mahogany door, and knocked. A familiar face, adorned with an eye patch, answered the door.

"Come in, Angel," he said as he stood back from the door.

Angel came into the room and came face to face with a sea of faces. All of whom counted themselves as Spike's friends. Although, some of them did so more reluctantly than others, there was no denying that they were here because, in one way or another Spike helped them at one time. Now, they were just returning the favor.

He acknowledged them all with a curt nod, "Ready to do this?"

"Yes," Riley said, as he checked, and shouldered is tranquilizer gun. He led the parade of rag-tag people on the march down the hall to Drusilla's room.
*******************************

"I've got a confession to make," Buffy said, her eyes downcast and her hand reaching into the pocket of her dungarees.

"What's that?" Spike asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"I've had a kind of security blanket. I've used it for about a year now. Now that you know that I've needed something I haven't needed since I was a child," she looked up at him, "Still respect me?"

"I always did like Mr. Gordo," he said, "It takes a strong woman to admit she needs help. And, you are the strongest woman I know. What is this 'security blanket' of yours, Pet?"

Buffy was embarrassed. As she slipped her fingers around the object in her pocket, she wasn't sure how he would react to seeing it again. Let alone the fact that she had kept it with her after he was gone. She remembered shoving it into a box with Willow's candles, only to fish it out later. That day, on the bus, she had taken it out of the duffel of Spike's things. The duffel stayed, silently waiting for its owner's return. But, he never did. Seeing the little cloth bag, so forlorn without its owner, made her heart ache. So she decided to adopt some of his orphan belongings.

"This is my pride and joy," she said fishing the chrome plated lighter out of her pocket, "Or at least it was. Now that you're here, it's yours again." She placed the lighter gently in his hand.

Spike felt the weight of the lighter in his hands. It had been a long time since he held it in his hands, but his fingers closed around it as if it had never left. As if it was a part of him.

Spike's eyes tilted in contemplation of the lighter, and Buffy, "Is this..." he sighed, disbelievingly.

"Sure is," she nodded.

"Oh," he choked, "good to know my trinkets were safe."
**********************

Drusilla waited for her gentleman caller. He was to arrive at dusk, and she had just watched the last rays of daylight be chased away by the pretty shadows. Soon the stars would be singing to her, and she would be able to help her boy be strong again. Mr. Manners had promised.

The firm, strong rapping on the door brought Drusilla out of her reverie. With a flourish and a rustle of her skirts, she opened the door. There she saw her Daddy, looking stern, and cross.

"Daddy," she whimpered, "that sour face spoils the game before it's even started."

"Drusilla," Angel scowled, "I am in no mood," he grabbed her by the arm and hissed, "Let's get this done."

It was then that Drusilla noticed her armed escort. "My," she squealed, "all this pomp and circumstance for such a little girl?"

"It was the only way to make sure that Spike would get what he needs from you," Angel said.

"Tisk, tisk, Daddy. Do you really think I'd put William in danger?" she pouted.

Angel nodded to his companions, "They're here to make sure you don't."
*******************************

"Well," Buffy smiled, "don't you look great! Almost as good as new."

"Almost," Spike smirked, "I have to admit, I never really gave the blue hues a chance. After one hundred years of black, it's just easier to go with what you know."

Buffy was finally beginning to relax a little. Things were going to get better. She was finally starting to believe. "A little more of that good old mother's milk, and you will be back on the prowl in no time."

"Let's hope so, Pet. This idleness is starting to make me stir crazy."

There was a very distinctive knock at the door. Buffy opened it to reveal Drusilla, flanked, on either side by the new and improved Scoobies.

"Well," Buffy said, over her shoulder, to Spike, "I hope your ready, because I think it's show time."
*********************************

The sun had risen hours ago. Drusilla was taken weakened and paler than normal, from the stress of the feeding, by Angel and the majority of the others, back to her hotel room.

The blood had helped. Now Spike looked near to perfection. There was even some dark peach fuzz on his head that Buffy supposed would pass for hair. Who knew that Spike had honey brown hair under all that peroxide?

There were still some scars that hadn't healed. Buffy supposed that they were permanent. A kind of reminder of the journey he'd been through, as if she and he needed any reminders.

The others had retreated back to 'Scooby Central,' so now all that was left to do was wait for Spike to wake up.

As if on cue, Spike opened his eyes, that looked extremely rested, and looked at her. The mischief in his eyes was something she had missed.

"Hey," Buffy said, stoking his cheek.

"Hey, yourself," Spike purred.

"How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly well. Want to dance, Pet?"
****************************



It didn't happen often in sunny Los Angeles, but it did happen. Storm clouds were gathering, in more ways than one. Angel could see the dark clouds swirling in the sky. He felt cold. Down to his core, he felt cold. The cold had been his only companion for so long that he didn't think he could recognize anything else.

That was until Spike showed up. Then, he began to feel something other than cold. He felt heat, boiling up from his toes and eating away at his heart. The heat should have warmed him but it only burned him through and through. He wondered how Spike could survive for as long as he had with a flame so bright inside of him that Angel could warm himself with just the echoes that he saw in Spike's eyes.

Angel had existed long enough that he'd seen that glow before. Spike wasn't unique. He'd tried to warm himself, long ago, in the shadows of Darla's light. He tried to bask in the borrowed light of Buffy, Fred and Cordy. But, that only left him shivering in the cold of their light's reflection. He had tied to find a resonance for his emptiness in the wake of the love of James and Elizabeth. But, all their love did was remind him of what he has been missing since he'd closed his eyes to Darla. He'd lost something he didn't even know he'd had until it was gone.

Spike wasn't the first, and Angel knew he wouldn't be the last to show him how incomplete he really was.

Outside, the thunder rumbled and crashed through the sky. Angel watched as lightening ripped a line of light through the darkening, grey skies. He watched as the droplets of water started their lazy path down the glass of his window. They came slowly at first, and then as the storm gathered strength, the water seemed to throw itself against the glass. It was as if the water wanted to do anything it had to, to escape the turmoil that Angel knew was coming.

Outside it rained. And, inside, Angel was cold.
****************

Buffy pushed Spike gently in the chest, "Take it easy, Spike. You haven't used your muscles in months. Just rest for a little while longer. If you take on too much, and hurt yourself, you won't be able to help me fight Drusilla."

"And, if I wait," Spike closed his eyes in trepidation, "I don't even want to think about it. I don't have the time to be mollycoddled, Slayer," the weight of his words showed in his voice, and on his face, " I don't have the time. And neither do you. Now, if you don't mind," Spike was pushing his bed linens aside, and trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed, "help me up."

Buffy shook her head looking at him with pity, "Spike, just wait ten minutes..."

There was a flame of disgust in his eyes, "Don't look at me like that, Slayer! I spent months holding on to the memory of your eyes. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept me from going mad. The idea that you were somewhere in the world; that those eyes of yours were, maybe, seeing the stars that I looked at every night kept me going, not just after the fiasco in that alley, but before. I remembered your eyes," his voice shook with emotion, " And, in all that time, on all those nights, I have never seen you pity me, until now."

Buffy was hurt, " Spike," she whimpered, trying not to let the venom sting her, "I didn't mean to..."

"I know, Pet," he hung his head, ashamed of his own anger, "just help me up. Please?"

Buffy knew that there was no use fighting him. Once he put his mind to something he wouldn't quit until it was accomplished. No matter how long it took and how much pain he had to go through to do it, if he wanted it bad enough, it got done.

"Okay," she conceded, " but you'll lean on me, if you need to, won't you?"

"Yeah, Pet. I promise."
********************

A representative from the Home Office, if one cared to look back through history, was behind every despot and mass-murdering psychopath, as if there were any other kind, of any consequence. Granted, the handling of the Angelus file didn't mean upward mobility for Holland Manners, but someone had to handle this. Someone who could be subtle, who could deliver the death knell, with a velvet glove and deliver it in such a way as to be unnoticed until the hammer had long since fallen. Holland was certainly qualified. He'd been deep in this assignment for years. Getting killed didn't let him off the hook; it just made his job much easier. After all, who needed to plant listening devices when one of your best agents was, essentially, incorporeal and could slip in and out, at any time, virtually, undetected.

Of course Holland would accept the bonus the Home Office offered him for completing this assignment ahead of schedule. He would be a fool if he did not. Although, he had to admit, he would have done this, at no charge, just to see the look on Angel's face.

Holland checked the calendar and took note of the projected end date for the "Sisyphus Project," as it was called around the office, and nodded, silently pleased with himself. He put the slim leather volume back in his breast pocket, and said, "We're ahead of the timetable. Nothing works better than an 'unscheduled' apocalypse to move things along at a good clip."
***************************

Watching him slowly prowl the room, Buffy could have jumped for joy. He hadn't been on his feet a whole ten minutes and he was already networking. She was almost jealous of the recipient of that smooth talk and those honeyed words, "I couldn't be more surprised myself," he said into the phone, "You're a bit of all right, George. How soon can you hire it," the elevated eyebrow showed that even he was impressed, "You remember the address, don't you? That's right. See you soon," he said as he hung up the phone.

"George isn't some fat old guy, is he?" Buffy asked, suddenly remembering that that tone was reserved for persons of the female variety.

"No, she's a little girl from Wolfram and Hart's motor pool. She's a genius with an engine. She can make an auto do things you've never thought were possible," he stopped when he saw Buffy's eyes glaze over. When she looked like that, Spike knew it was time to shut up, "And, I'm waxing a bit too poetic about someone who's not you, aren't I?"

At least he had the decency to look sheepish, "Kind of, yeah," she admitted.

"Sorry. It's just that, when I was a ghost, I didn't have many friends, aside from Fred. She was someone who didn't mind me popping in to see her on occasion. She got sacked before all the ugliness started," he smirked devilishly, " Started her own garage, with my help."

Buffy hated to encourage him, but the look on his face was too delicious. She smiled to herself, now she was even starting to talk to herself like him, "I'm almost afraid to ask."

The smirk got bigger, "Good instincts. I nicked some of Angel's best cars for her to tinker with," he shook his head at how gullible Angel was, "I kept telling him I'd wrecked the ones he'd lent to me. He never asked questions, he just let me have another whenever I asked. It was like Christmas."

"And," Buffy asked, shyly, "George isn't some old demon, right?"

"No. She's human. A bit on the young side," he paused to take in the flush of Buffy's cheeks, "But then, I am over one hundred and thirty, so young's relative, isn't it?" he smiled, he couldn't help it, Buffy looked so sweet, all flushed like she was now, "Why do you ask," he grazed her cheek with the knuckles of his hand, "You know it's you I love, right?"

The look in his eyes told her he was telling her the truth, "Yes."
****************************

It had taken some time to get all the players in their proper positions. Some of the groundwork for this project had been laid centuries ago. It was finally all coming into place.

Holland opened his umbrella as he exited the limousine. Today was one of the few days that allowed him to engineer things in the daylight hours. Just a few more hours, and they'd all be in the right place at the right time. Then, the real play could start.

As he entered the hotel, he shook his umbrella dry, and headed for Drusilla's suite.

Holland had been concerned about the guard that would, most assuredly, be placed at her door. But, he needn't have worried. The sentinel had fallen asleep. And, there wasn't much chance of him seeing anything anyway, he did have only one eye, and that was tightly closed, in sleep.

He gently rapped on the door, "Drusilla," he called, "we must go now if we're to get there on time. Mustn't be late, you know."

Drusilla opened the door, clearly confused, "Holland? But, it's not moonrise yet," she rubbed her eyes, sleepily, "And, I'm ever so tired."

"I know. But, it's raining, so no need to worry about that nasty old sunshine, at the moment," he smiled at her, "There's a nice, fancy car, with dark windows, outside for you and I to ride in," he held his arm for her to take, "Come on."

"But," she pouted, "I'll get wet."

"I thought of that," Holland said, showing her his umbrella.

"Oh, that's so thoughtful," she said, taking his arm, and gliding past her sleeping watchman.
************************

"Well, I'll be damned," Georgina said, as she hugged him, "I never thought I'd see you again! Not after that fireball. It took up a whole six city blocks!"

"Good to see you again too, George," Spike smiled, holding Buffy a little tighter, "George, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

The light of recognition shone in the mechanic's eyes as she looked at Buffy and nodded, No introduction needed. You're Buffy, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered.

Georgina shook her hand, enthusiastically, "It's nice to finally meet the legend. Are you sure you're not some movie star or something," she asked, nodding back at the door, "You need a passport, and a pedigree to get past that G.I. Joe at the door."

"No," she smiled, "I'm just me."

"Well 'Just me' ruined old Spike here for anybody else," she sighed, "Believe me, I did try."

"That you did," he agreed, "The reason I rang you, George, was to ask if we could borrow your garage for a few days. She needs a place to stretch her legs. My flat's a bit cramped."

"Sure Spike," she said, quickly, "I'm going on vacation anyway. You can have the run of the place for a whole week," she tossed Spike the keys to the car she'd driven to the apartment, "Here are the keys to the Viper. It's all gassed, and tuned, up and purring like a kitten."

"Thanks, George," he said.

"Where are we going," Buffy asked, as George left.

"Somewhere you can train."
***************

"But where are we going?" Drusilla asked.

"Somewhere we can watch it all come together," Holland replied.

"But, I haven't even sent the invitations," Drusilla sighed, "How will they know to come to my party?"

"Not to worry, Drusilla," Holland smiled, "I'll be sending them out, soon enough."