Spike had just taken his boots off when the phone rang. Buffy didn’t stir, so he just listened while Tara got up and padded downstairs to answer it.
 
“Hello?” he heard her say quietly.
 
Then, “I’m pretty sure she’s asleep. I d-don’t want to wake her.”
 
Wonder who the hell that is, ringin’ this late. Gotta be either the Great Forehead or the Watcher. Anyone else’d wait ‘til mornin’.
 
“Tomorrow afternoon? Really? I can’t believe you managed it,” Tara said.
 
Another pause. “Willow and I have a heavy day, so we won’t be around ‘til after dinner. But she will be, definitely. And Spike, once he wakes up.”
 
A very long pause. Spike grinned to himself. Somebody doesn’ like that very much.
 
“Yes, really. For months.”
 
“No.”
 
“Yes.”
 
“No!”
 
“Well maybe if you’d stayed, we wouldn’t have needed him to!” Tara almost shouted.
 
Watcher, callin’ from the airport, I reckon.
 
An’ they’re admittin’ to needin’ me now?
 
“Fine. See you tomorrow.”
 
Tara hung up, and dragged herself back up the stairs. Wait, did I just defend Spike? When she reached Buffy’s bedroom, she paused.
 
“Spike? Are you in there?”
 
He got up from the chair, and opened the door very slightly.
 
She smiled, weakly. How did we get here? He’s spending the night in Buffy’s room, watching her sleep, and we’re letting him do it. Encouraging him, even! We used to freak and call him a stalker when he just sat outside her window and smoked all night.
 
“That was Mr Giles,” she said. “He’s about to get on a plane,”
 
Ha!
 
“He’ll be getting into LAX around noon, then he’s going to get a rental and drive straight here, to the house. I … I just thought you should know.”
 
Tara twisted her fingers together, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. In all these months, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually had a conversation with Spike. When they needed to communicate, they left each other notes. Or they asked Dawn to pass on messages. It felt weird, having this very normal conversation with him, at Buffy’s bedroom door. Like they were just regular people who lived together.
 
Spike would have appreciated the gesture, once. As it was, he was still angry about Dawn, so he just grunted out “Ta for lettin’ us know,” and closed the door gently but firmly in her face.
 
He turned around to see Buffy wide awake with the cuticle knife in her hand, poised to slit her own throat. Her eyes glowed green.
 
"Oh for fuck’s sake. Why won’t you just stay down?"
 
------------------------------------------
 
Giles sat rigidly in the departure lounge, his mind racing. Spike was living in the house. Spike!
 
The last time he’d seen the vampire was at the bottom of the tower. Giles was slightly ashamed to admit it to himself, but he hadn’t thought once about him since then.
 
Why on earth is he still hanging about? Without Buffy to feed his disgusting obsession, what could be keeping him in Sunnydale?
 
Giles suddenly felt sick. Dawn was about to turn fifteen. Almost exactly the same age Buffy had been when Angel had come into her life.
 
Dear Lord. Could he have transferred his affections?
 
No, Tara would have said something if that’s what was happening. She said he hasn’t tried to hurt any of them yet.
 
What can he possibly be playing at?
 
Giles rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. We’ll stop him somehow.
 
Now that Buffy is back.
 
------------------------------------------
 
Spike dove for the bed, knocking the knife out of Buffy’s hands before it could do more than just break the skin. The first tendrils of the scent of her blood curled into the air.
 
The thing inside of Buffy twisted her face into a snarl. Spike’s hands were locked around her wrists as they rolled around the bed, each trying to gain control.
 
“I will destroy this body,” the voice grated out of her lips.
 
“You bloody will not,” Spike grunted.
 
They fell off the bed with a thud. Buffy landed straddled on Spike and started to squeeze her knees around his chest, constricting his lungs.
 
“I’m a vampire, you pillock!” he gasped out with the last of his air. Breathin’s sodding optional!
 
Tara heard the thud from the hallway. “Buffy?” she called out tentatively. “Everything all right in there?”
 
Spike got his feet under him and thrust up, managing to reverse their positions. He held her wrists over her head, his hips pressing her down into the floor. Almost….
 
Worried when she received no answer, Tara opened the door. She gasped. Is he-? “What are you doing to her?!” she cried, looking around for a weapon. Grabbing the lamp off the bedside table, she brought it down on Spike’s head.
 
“Ow!” Spike bellowed.
 
The room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the hallway.
 
And from Buffy’s eyes! Tara was horrified when she realised what she had done. “Oh goddess, Spike, I’m so sorry!” She backed out of the room, wringing her hands.
 
But the damage was already done. Tara’s distraction had been enough to allow Buffy’s body to wriggle out from beneath Spike.
 
She snatched up a shard of broken lamp and started sawing along the vein at her wrist. The scent of her blood flooded the air.
 
Spike went straight into game face.
 
“No!” he growled, grabbing hold of her wrists again. But the one she’d managed to cut open was now slick and slippery with blood, and he couldn’t keep hold of it.
 
“I’ll get bandages,” Tara said, running for the first aid kit downstairs. This is all my fault. He had her under control before I came in.
 
“The heart beats so fast,” the voice rasped. “All that delicious blood pumping out. Don’t you want to taste it?” Buffy’s wrist jerked in front of Spike’s face, rubbing the wound against his lips.
 
He snarled. God, the taste! Power and life and sex. Almost forgotten the rush of Slayer blood. He shuddered, his tongue lapping at the wrist pressed to his face. Shagged Dru for two days straight last time.
 
Unable to stop himself, he ground into Buffy, desperate for friction. Her body went still under him, the thing inside sure it had won, that the vampire would drain the body dry.
 
But Spike never let his fangs touch her, and he could feel the blood flow slowing down as the coagulants in his saliva and Buffy’s Slayer healing combined. With just a few sips, he felt giddy, almost giggly, and fuck! so hard it hurt. All his injuries were healed and he was buzzing with energy.
 
He could feel a scab forming, and the desire to suck just a little bit harder – to let more of her luscious blood flow out of her wrist and into his mouth – was almost irresistible. Almost.
 
He let go of her wrist with a soft pop.
 
“Was it good for you, pet?” he snickered.
 
The thing realised the wrist wound was no longer bleeding. Enraged, it reared back and head-butted Spike.
 
Still a bit fuzzy from afterglow, he rocked backwards, letting go again.
 
Buffy sprang to her feet, and punched the mirror over the vanity, shattering the glass.
 
As she scrabbled to open her jugular with a mirror shard, Spike decided he needed to follow Tara’s lead and just knock Buffy out. Bracing himself for the pain, he drew back and punched her full-force in the face.
 
His chip didn’t fire.
 
He was so shocked he just let Buffy slump to the ground. He dropped out of game face.
 
Chip didn’t fire.
 
He heard Tara coming up the stairs, and immediately started feigning pain, clutching at his head and letting himself fall to his knees.
 
Did it get fried completely tonight? Am I … free?
 
Still in a daze, Spike sat on the floor while Tara pulled the unconscious Buffy up into a sitting position against the bed, brushing glass out of her pyjamas, wiping her fist with antiseptic, and finally putting a bandage on her wrist. Tara gave him a long hard stare when she saw how clean the wound was and how much it had healed, but she said nothing.
 
“It’s midnight,” Tara said, finally. “It’s over.”
 
“Right,” Spike said. “Good.” Is everything over? If I’m not chipped anymore….
 
Buffy came to with a whimper. She grabbed onto Tara’s wrist, making the other girl wince, eyes tearing from the pain.
 
“Is it dead?” Buffy asked, gasping, trying to figure out whether she was happy or disappointed that she was still alive.
 
“It’s dead,” Tara said, trying to pull out of Buffy’s death-grip.
 
Buffy leaned back against the bed and closed her eyes, finally letting Tara go. A shudder sped through her body. Then a sob. I am so tired of fighting to stay alive. It hurts. She wrapped herself around her knees, burying her face and letting the tears take over.
 
Tara wanted so much to comfort her, hug her, something. But she was worried her wrist was broken, and she was exhausted and anxious. She settled for laying her good hand on Buffy’s shoulder and squeezing gently.
 
Spike watched them. Could drain her dry right now. She’s weak an’ scared – wouldn’ fight back.
 
If I wanted to.
 
The taste of Slayer blood turned bitter in his mouth and his stomach lurched queasily.
 
Don’ think I could survive her dyin’ again. Know Dawn couldn’t.
 
Buffy’s sobbing was getting worse, memories of being in the coffin merging with being unable to control her own body. Trapped. “Dark,” she whimpered. Need to get out.
 
Spike staggered to his feet and turned on the overhead light.
 
“No more darkness, Love.”
 
Chip doesn’ matter. Not now. Made my choice. No goin’ back.
 
He walked over to where Buffy sat huddled on the floor and scooped her up into his arms. He looked over at Tara. “You go on to bed. ‘Ve got it from here.”
 
Tara nodded, grateful, and gingerly got to her feet. “G’night,” she said, leaving the room and shutting the door softly behind her.
 
“Shhh, Sweetling,” Spike murmured, nuzzling his cheek in Buffy’s hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Still can’t stand to see you hurt. My strong girl.
 
Buffy curled her fingers into his shirt. There was light behind her closed eyelids. She wasn’t in the dark anymore.
 
He pulled back the cover and laid her down on the bed. She was still crying, but more quietly now, her knees drawn up to her chest, and her fingers still clutching at his shirt.
 
“Stay,” she whispered. Make me feel safe again.
 
He lay down beside her on the bed, gently shifting both of them around until he was lying at her back, surrounding her. She could feel his erection jutting into her, but his whispered, “’M sorry ‘bout that. Only a man,” made her smile. He didn’t expect anything from her. It felt so freeing. Easy, when everything else was hard.
 
Spike held her while she cried herself into a dozing sleep. She slipped into nightmares a few times, but his whispered reminders that she was safe in her own bed, with all the lights on, made it easy for her to slip back out of them.
 
He stayed awake all night, just holding her. She was so warm, and she smelled so good. And she wanted him, there, with her, in her bed. He was awed and terrified and on sensory overload and so turned on he was sure it was only a matter of time before his balls turned inside out and his cock exploded. It was exquisite torture and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
 
When Spike heard Dawn’s alarm going off next door, he reluctantly started pulling himself away from Buffy. “Time for me to go, Love. Gotta get Dawn off to school.”
 
Buffy made a kittenish mewling noise, and curled into a smaller ball. Bloody adorable, you are. He slipped out of bed, tucking the duvet back around her.
 
Her bedroom was a wreck. Vanity mirror and lamp smashed, broken glass all over the floor, furniture shoved all over the place. Spike sighed and stepped into his boots, kicking as much glass as he could away from the side of the bed. Gonna have to do for the moment.
 
He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Going to Dawn’s door, he knocked. We’re buggered if that alarm hasn’t woken her up. Can’t get in anymore. “Bit?” he called. “You awake?”
 
“No, Spike,” she called back. “I’m sound asleep.”
 
“Tha’s alright then,” he said. “You gonna have that sugary shite for breakfast? Or do you want somethin’ hot?”
 
“Cereal’s fine,” Dawn said, coming out of her bedroom.
 
“Right then,” he said, ruffling her hair. “I’m gonna go suss out the damage downstairs. There’s nothin’ in the fridge for lunch. D’you need cash?”
 
“Nuh-uh.” Dawn shoved him towards the stairs on her way to the bathroom. “Go clean.”
 
“Oi!”
 
Dawn smirked.
 
Downstairs looked worse in daylight. There was a hole in the wall the size of a dinner plate. The coffee table was smashed to pieces, and the rug had ground-in pizza and soda all over it. The armchair Buffy had thrown through the window had knocked all the glass out, and was now shredded to ribbons and sitting half-in, half-out of the house.
 
Most depressingly, a piece of the table was sticking out of the TV.
 
Bugger.
 
He really had intended to start cleaning up, but the armchair had also ripped the curtain rod out of the wall, and now the whole room was bathed in early morning sunshine. He couldn’t even get past the doorway.
 
Spike went into the kitchen. Normally, he’d be making himself a mug of blood about now, but he was still full. He absently started loading the dishwasher. He’d just switched it on when Dawn came in, showered and dressed.
 
“Guess you’re excused from cleaning, huh?” she said, pouring herself a bowl of cereal.
 
“’S a bit bright for me in there right now.” He grinned. “Lucky, innit?”
 
“Jammy bastard,” she tried to mimic his accent.
 
Spike gave her a pained look. “You promised to stop murdering the accent, pet. That was worse than my attempts at surfer.”
 
“Was not!”
 
“Was too!”
 
Dawn stuck her tongue out at him.
 
“Eat your cereal. Xander’ll be here in a minute.”
 
“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “You going to bed now?”
 
“In a minute. Gonna grab a shower first.” He paused in the doorway to the dining room. “You okay? Drivin’ in with Xander?”
 
Dawn nodded. “I’m pretty mad at him, but I don’t think I’m in any danger.”
 
Spike nodded. “Alright, ‘s your call. But you say the word….”
 
“I know.”
 
Spike ran his hand over her head and went upstairs.
 
Just as the Dawn heard the shower going on, Xander came through the kitchen door.
 
“Hey, you ready to go?” he asked.
 
Dawn nodded. “Still not talking to you, though.”
 
Xander sighed. “Look, Dawn, what Willow did ... what we did. It was really wrong. Maybe even unforgiveable. It scares me. I can’t even imagine how scared you must have been.”
 
Dawn looked at him. “It should scare you.”
 
“I know it’s gonna take some time for you to trust any of us again, and that’s cool. Take as much time as you need. But … I want you to know that I love you like a sister, Dawnie, and … I just … I’m really, really sorry.”
 
“I believe you,” Dawn said quietly. “And I get that you weren’t exactly in on the decision. But you’re right, it’s gonna take some time.” She straightened her shoulders and picked up her backpack. “C’mon. We should go or I’m gonna be late.”
 
------------------------------------------
 
The shower did not provide anywhere near the relief that Spike had hoped it would.
 
Soddin’ aphrodisiac Slayer blood.
 
He went to bed cleaner, but no less hard.