“I think Spike really needs to lie down now,” Dawn said pointedly to the occupants of the sofa.
 
They stared back at her blankly.
 
“Really?” Dawn said, exasperated.
 
“What?” Anya asked. “Your persistent staring is making me uncomfortable.”
 
“Get off the sofa,” Dawn said flatly.
 
Spike was so tired of all this. He just wanted to sleep. He pushed himself off the wall, leaning heavily on Dawn, and turned to Bohdan, “Give a bloke a lift, mate?”
 
Tara stood up guiltily, pulling Willow with her. “G-g-go ahead, Spike.”
 
Anya huffed, but got up. Xander followed reluctantly.
 
“Ta,” Spike said, trying for snide, but mostly just sounding exhausted and in pain.
 
Dawn looked up at him, worried by his non-reaction. She helped him stumble to the sofa.
 
They heard the two couples going through to the kitchen, talking about ordering Chinese. Bohdan and Giles followed them.
 
Something had shifted with the group dynamics – it would never have occurred to any of them before to leave Spike alone in a room with Buffy and Dawn. But now? It came so naturally no one even noticed they were doing it.
 
Spike knelt in the centre of the sofa and slowly manoeuvred himself horizontal. It was obvious the movement cost him.
 
“I’ll get you more blood,” Dawn said. “Do you want morphine, too?”
 
“Please,” he said, shifting around against the cushion, trying to find a position for his head that meant his burns were touching as little as possible. The nerves had started coming back to life and it hurt.
 
Dawn left for the kitchen.
 
Buffy came to sit on the floor next to him, leaning her head against the sofa arm and drawing her knees up against her chest. He couldn’t see her face, but he could see her hands, clasped around her knees.
 
“They look better,” he said, reaching out to touch her, but stopping himself just shy of actual contact. He wasn’t sure what to expect from her. She’d taken such a big step, publicly asking him to stay – bound to be a reaction once she’d had time to realise what she’d done.
 
“I guess,” she said, shrugging.
 
“Not gonna push, Love,” he said, finally. “No expectations.” He really didn’t think he could take a broken nose right now, not on top of everything else.
 
The silence grew. Not uncomfortable, but not entirely comfortable either.
 
Just as he started pulling his hand away, she took it in hers, twining her fingers with his.
 
Tension seeped out of his body in a long sigh. “Buffy, I—”
 
“Shhh,” she said, squeezing his hand.
 
She knew exactly what she wanted to say: I was talking about me, yesterday. I’m scared and confused and you make me feel things I’m not ready for yet. The way you look at me … I forgot what it means. But I remember now. I know and it’s okay. But the words were too heavy within her – she couldn’t lift them to her lips. She hoped that she wouldn’t need to say them for him to know. He saw so much she never wanted him to see. Surely he would see this too?
 
Dawn jerked to a halt in the doorway when she saw where Buffy was, what she was doing. “What, you care now?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
 
“Bit—” Spike started.
 
“It’s okay,” Buffy said. She placed Spike’s hand back on the sofa, her fingers trailing up his arm as she let him go, letting her body brush casually against him when she got up.
 
His skin sang with every touch. He wanted so much to grab onto her and wrap himself in the scent of her skin, to feel her heat warming him. But he was tired and in pain and the sofa was too small for two.
 
“I’ll go,” Buffy said, her hand lingering in the air, almost but not quite still in contact. “You need to rest.”
 
She smiled at him then, not with her lips but with her eyes – and it was so much the more precious for it.
 
Dawn watched her out of the room, then flopped onto the floor, pulling Spike’s arm around her, scooting down until her head could rest against his shoulder.
 
“I hate her,” Dawn said petulantly, putting down the mug of morphine-laced blood and pushing the curly plastic straw into a position where Spike could reach it without needing to move.
 
“No you don’t,” Spike said, pulling lightly on her hair.
 
“Little miss ‘all my sisterly feelings are fake’? Puh-lease.”
 
“You know she didn’t mean it like that.”
 
“Maybe,” Dawn said, sounding tired and defeated. “Why are you defending her, anyway? I’ll bet she didn’t even apologise to you for yesterday.”
 
“My Sweet Bit,” he said. “So fierce.”
 
“Yeah, well.” She smiled weakly. “Guess I come by that honestly, Big Bad … Dad.”
 
He ignored the surge of powerful emotions at being called that. It was … too new, too unexpected. “All you Summers women are fierce, pet. Nothin’ to do with me.” Better she have Joyce. Far better than me.
 
“A-are we okay?” Dawn asked, voice suddenly smaller. “I mean, you were kinda … angry, before.”
 
“Never with you, Pigeon.” He reached over to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re mine an’ I’m yours. ‘Til the end of the world. Tha’s what matters. The rest? Can take it or leave it. Your choice.”
 
Dawn stayed with Spike in companionable silence until he passed out, then went straight upstairs to barricade herself in her room. She didn’t want to spend any more time with them all staring at her, looking for signs of Spike. She especially wanted no more of their obvious disappointment when they found them.
 
I miss you, Mom. So, so much.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
The others had a pleasant dinner in bald denial. It could almost be described as cheerful.
 
When Buffy announced she was going to go patrol, Willow almost jumped out of her chair. “I’ll go with you!” she said excitedly.
 
“Hey, yeah,” Xander said, smiling. “I’m in. Be like old times.”
 
“Why would you willingly put yourself in danger like that?” Anya asked incredulously. “The last time you went on patrol, you were injured and we couldn’t play Backstr—”
 
“Ahn!” Xander shouted, mortified.
 
“What?” Anya said. “Buffy’s back now! I don’t understand why you want to take unnecessary risks.”
 
“Well there’s no reason you have to come,” Willow said. “You can stay here, where it’s all safe.” She smiled encouragingly.
 
Anya looked at her consideringly. “I suppose.” She turned to Buffy, “You promise not to let Xander get hurt?”
 
Buffy nodded. “Cross my heart and hope to d—” She blanched. “Definitely too soon.”
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
After the patrol-bound had left, Giles and Tara found themselves momentarily alone in the kitchen.
 
“Tara, do vampires have auras?” Giles asked.
 
“I don’t know,” Tara said thoughtfully, a little surprised by the question.
 
“You don’t know?” Now Giles was surprised.
 
“They have no life force, no reflection … but they think and feel, so maybe?”
 
“You’ve never thought to look at Spike’s?”
 
“Well, it’s not like we see each other much. I mean, he’s usually asleep when we get up, and then he goes out to patrol pretty much as soon as we walk in the door….”
 
“You mean it’s only been Spike patrolling? All this time?” Giles goggled. “I don’t understand. Willow and Xander always carried on Buffy’s patrol before, when she was  … unavailable.”
 
“It was … different this time,” Tara said. “Someone had to stay home with Dawn at night. Willow and I had full-time classes. Xander had the summer construction rush. Anya had to do all the Magic Box stuff on her own. Plus we were trying to find a way to bring Buffy back. When we realised Spike was already patrolling … it just seemed easier to let him keep going on his own. And I mean, really? He’s stronger than any of us, knows more about demons. He’s … better at it, than we could ever be.”
 
“But it’s—”
 
“I know,” Tara said, guiltily.
 
“A vampire taking over the duties of the Slayer? It’s just wrong.”
 
“It does kinda make your brain hurt.”
 
“As you say….”
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
“Who was the client, Anya?” Bohdan asked, as soon as they were alone in the dining room.
 
“What client?” Anya said shiftily. “I have no clients.” She plastered on her biggest, stupidest grin and batted her eyelashes.
 
“I was at Jenoff’s last night,” Bohdan said. “With him.”
 
“Oh,” Anya said, dropping the coquetry.
 
“It was a set-up.”
 
“What?!”
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
“It would make everything so much easier if I felt sure I could trust him,” Giles said, frustrated.
 
“I know what you mean,” Tara said. “He just keeps being there when we really need someone. The path of least resistance.”
 
“That doesn’t make it right to use him. In fact, quite the opposite.”
 
“He’s Dawnie’s father. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
 
“Don’t remind me,” Giles said, shuddering.
 
“Doesn’t that make him, like, your son-in-law? Or something?”
 
“I need a drink,” Giles said, feeling the earlier incipient headache returning.
 
Tara giggled. “Don’t get jet lagged.”
 
Giles sighed. “Maybe I’ll just go to bed. It’s been a very long day.”
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
“We. Got. Paid,” Anya said. “Do you need a diagram to understand?” She glared at Bohdan. “And I am not giving the money back.”
 
“I’m not suggesting you give the money back!” Bohdan said quickly.
 
“Good.”
 
“It just – it doesn’t make any sense.”
 
“You destroyed all the contracts in the box?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Maybe his contract was there, but he didn’t want us to know his real name for some perfectly inane rich-person reason.”
 
“Perhaps. But how could he know we’d destroy all the contracts?”
 
Anya shrugged. “I think you’re reading far too much into this.”
 
“And why pick nikdo as a pseudonym?”
 
“Because it sounds like a real name,” Anya said slowly, as if speaking to a child.
 
“Perhaps,” Bohdan said thoughtfully. “But we need to know, one way or the other.”
 
Anya nodded, frowning. “Everything was by email. Willow might be able to trace it back to its source. But really, I’m sure we’ll discover that it was someone like Donald Trump and he just didn’t want us to know who he was.”
 
Bohdan rubbed at his face. “It’s late. We can talk more about this another day.”
 
He was a little surprised that no one had asked him why he had told them about Dawn’s parentage – or why now. He was even more surprised that it had been the Slayer’s friends who seemed to have taken the news the hardest. He had always thought the biggest resistance would come from the vampire.
 
But then again, Spike was a very strange vampire.
 
He made his farewells, and started back to his motel to sleep
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
“When I said it’d be just like old times,” Xander called out wheezily, jumping over a gravestone, and only just avoiding the vampire lunging for his neck, “I didn’t think we’d be going back to me being the bait!” His voice was getting higher pitched with every word, erupting into a shrill squeak at the end.
 
He could hear Willow’s projected giggles echoing in his head as Buffy threw a stake into the vampire, covering Xander in a film of dust.
 
Buffy managed a weak smile. “But your girlish screams are so attractive – to vampires.”
 
“Thanks, Buff. Really.”
 
Willow hadn’t felt so happy in months. It was just her and Buffy and Xander, on patrol. And she was helping! No more liability-girl. Her new ball-of-sun spell had taken out almost as many vampires as Buffy, and her ability to speak inside their heads meant Xander ran much less risk being bait than back in the day, when it was all with the running and the screaming and the never quite knowing if you’d get there in time.
 
Buffy was a little on the quiet side, but hey, not even out of hell a week! And they were together, which was the most important thing, as far as Willow was concerned. The three of them, against the monsters.
 
She felt like she was walking on air all the way home.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
Anya was spitting mad by the time they returned from patrol. They’d been gone hours. She was exhausted and so bored of talking to Tara. She knew nothing about money. Or penises. Or torture. And really, what else was there?
 
Gods! Why has no one replaced the television yet?
 
And Xander still hadn’t told anyone about their engagement. There had been a moment at dinner, when she’d thought he was going to … but no. His “announcement” was that he was full. And about to burp.
 
She’d been so unsure about getting engaged in the first place – convinced it was just an I’m-about-to-die thing on Xander’s part. But with his words, and his kisses, and his face! He’d made her believe! But now all he did was say, “The time isn’t right yet, Anya. Be patient”. Pfft! She was beginning to wish she’d never said yes.
 
Xander knew as soon as he saw her face: imminent meltdown in ten, nine, eight…. He grabbed her arm, half-dragging her towards the door. “Let’s go home, Anya. I bet everyone’s really tired. Bye everyone!”
 
Buffy and Willow watched them go, confused.
 
“I think Anya wanted to go home an hour ago,” Tara said. “Well, actually I know she did, because that’s all she’s talked about for the last hour.”
 
Willow snickered as she moved to put her arms around her girlfriend.
 
“Anything exciting happen?” Tara asked, nuzzling Willow’s neck.
 
As Willow started to describe their evening, Buffy zoned out. She’d hoped the slaying would take some of the edge off of having to act normal, but Willow just kept helping. And nifty as that mini-sun was, it meant she’d barely been able to break a sweat. The effort of having to be around other people for so long had exhausted her.
 
She wandered out of the kitchen and into the living room. All the lights were still on, and Spike looked … dead.
 
Which wasn’t exactly a surprise, but she wasn’t used to seeing him so still. Even asleep, he twitched and moved and breathed.
 
Buffy took the throw off the back of the sofa and draped it over him. Then she turned off the lights and went upstairs so she could lie in bed and try very hard not to have more nightmares.
 
She wasn’t hopeful.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
“Willow,” Tara said.
 
“Yeah, Baby?”
 
“Do you think, maybe, we should move back onto campus?”
 
Willow frowned. “Why would we do that?”
 
“Well,” Tara said gently. “We only moved in because Buffy was … gone. She’s back now.”
 
“And she needs us more than ever!” Willow said. “How can we leave her? Especially with Spike back in the house. Just because he has some ‘magical connection’ with Dawn….”
 
Tara gave up on hinting. “Yesterday you called Angel to create a crisis so you could comfort Buffy. That’s not healthy.”
 
“I told you I didn’t think she’d get hurt!” Willow whined. “And I thought you were done punishing me for that.”
 
“Willow, I was never punishing you!” How many times do I have to say this? “And you b-b-bought ice cream! How can you say you didn’t plan for her to get hurt?”
 
“I conjured it after I offered it!”
 
“You’re over-using magic.”
 
“What?” Willow was baffled. “No, I’m not.”
 
“For ice cream? The grocery store was still open. And you could have asked me to buy it if you didn’t want to leave Buffy alone.”
 
Willow shrugged. “It was quicker my way. And it’s not like it hurt anyone.”
 
“What if something had gone wrong?”
 
“It was ice cream.” Willow said incredulously. “And nothing went wrong! Why are you being like this?”
 
“This isn’t about me. You’re taking unnecessary risks, Willow. With Dawn. With Buffy. You’re trying to control things and you need to stop and think about what you’re doing. We’re getting worried about you.”
 
“We?” Willow’s voice suddenly got very, very calm. “Who’s we?”
 
Tara felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “M-me and Mr Giles.”
 
“You talked to him about me?” Willow’s eyes went cold and flat. “Behind my back?”
 
“You’re scaring me, Willow,” Tara said. “I love you, but what you’re doing … you need to get out of this house.”
 
“So you’re taking his side now? Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
 
“What do you want me to do? Just sit back and keep my mouth shut?”
 
“That’d be a good start.”
 
Tara reeled back as if she’d been hit. “If I didn’t love you so damn much, I would.”
 
“Tara, Baby, I’m so sorry,” Willow said, all the anger leeching out of her at the look of pain on Tara’s face.
 
“I’m going to bed.”
 
“Tara….”
 
Tara waved her off, and went upstairs. After a second, Willow followed her.
 
Tara was in their bedroom, and she’d shut the door behind her. Willow put her hand to the door. It had never been closed to her before. Not when Tara was on the other side.
 
“I’m sorry, okay?” Willow said, begging, through the door.
 
To her great relief, Tara opened it to her. There was still hope.
 
“It’s not that easy,” Tara said.
 
Tara’s face was supposed to be soft, not hard. Not like this. Wrong! All wrong!
 
“What do you want me to do? Reverse time and take it back?” Willow laughed nervously. “‘Cause I might be able to if I….” she trailed off, as Tara turned her back on her, walking away from the doorway, and beginning to change into pyjamas.
 
Another first: she’d never hidden her body from Willow before. It was one of the things Willow was proudest of, that this shy woman who usually wilted under attention, blossomed when they were together. But Tara was hiding again. From me. She’s hiding from me.
 
“Joke,” Willow said, forcing a smile when she wanted to cry and beg and scream. “Don't think I could really—”
 
“Can we not do this now? I'm tired.” Tara sounded so cold. She wasn’t even looking at her anymore.
 
Not hiding, after all.
 
Willow felt a pit of dread and fear opening up inside her. “Okay,” she said weakly.
 
Tara was hers. She was her best friend and her confidante and her safe place in a world that made her feel small and weak. She made everything better – more manageable, even at its most overwhelming.
 
Tara slid into bed, not moving any further than the very edge of her side.
 
She’s turning away from me, away from us.
 
Willow didn’t think she could handle another night lying next to Tara, being punished, not allowed to touch her, to feel surrounded by her love and comfort. Tears pricked at her eyes. She fluttered around the room getting ready for bed, when she saw something that made her pause.
 
Lethe’s bramble.
 
She couldn’t turn back time, but she could do something almost as good.
 
We can just forget about it.
 
She took the bag from the assorted herb box on their dresser, and pulled out a sprig. She held it in her hand, and whispered, “Obliviscere.” It glowed faintly.
 
Willow climbed into bed, and Tara immediately rolled over to meet her, her arms sliding easily around her.
 
“Ooooh, you’re all cold,” Tara said. “Let me warm you up.”
 
“You’re not mad?” Willow said, pressing herself against Tara’s beautiful soft breasts, nuzzling into her neck.
 
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
‘What will your mummy sing, precious one?’ Dru crooned, nuzzling into the baby’s belly.
 
‘She’s not yours!’ Darla snarled, reaching for the baby.
 
‘But I’m hungry!’ whined Dru, dancing away, and dropping into petulant game face.
 
The baby started crying.
 
‘Mummy won’t love you if you cry,’ Dru giggled, tapping it on the nose and tickling under its chin. ‘No blood for naughty babies.’ She sank her teeth into the baby’s femoral artery, and started suckling. ‘Peaches and despair.’ She hummed in contentment. ‘My favourite flavours.’
 
Darla turned away from Dru’s greedy slurping, an expression of disgust on her face. ‘Is she your child?’ she asked him accusingly.
 
Blink
 
Dawn was crying, a gaping, bloody wound at her throat.
 
He felt hungry.
 
Blink
 
‘Needs good moist earth to thrive,’ Dru said, slyly, holding the bloodless, lifeless baby out to him. ‘But everything I plant dies. Plant her for me? Make her thrive?’
 
He started backing away.
 
Dru started crying. ‘But I have no one left to play with!’ she wailed. ‘I want to be Mummy!’
 
Blink
 
Darla was staring at him, her face contorted with a depth of pain he’d never believed her capable of feeling. ‘It burns,’ she said. ‘Get. It. Out!’
 
Spike woke up, sweating.
 
Buffy was beside him, his hand clasped in hers, whispering, “It’s just a dream. It’s okay. You’re safe.”