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