*Author's Note: Short chappie, sorry guys. Life caught up to me. Thanks again to all the wonderful reviewers. It really does make my day, and if you're enjoyng the story half as much as I like writing it, it's a good day. :D

*Sod. Bugger. Bollocks.* Spike’s mind was racing, a direct contrast to his outward demeanor. With all the self-control he had in him he managed to keep his eyes straight ahead, and his hands on the wheel. He even signaled at the appropriate times!

Things were just so screwed up. He didn’t know if he was tagging along with the Slayer out of boredom or… or desire. Spike never liked to see a woman cry, and for as tough as she could be, the Slayer had barely stopped crying all night. It was putting him in a piss of a mood.

Then the barely there thank you he had gotten on top of his already fucked up emotions was just too much. Even the fag he’d just had did little to calm his nerves. He and the Slayer had only been searching for a little less than two hours and they’d gotten abso-fucking-lutely no where.

It was a relief that Joyce had been alright. The woman was a right peach. Always had a cuppa ready and a shoulder to cry on. Still, he was *evil.* It shouldn’t bother him that much if some woman met the reaper. And yet the knowledge that she was safe at home put him at ease. Made this whole wild goose chase seem that much more… He didn’t know. Chaseable?

A furious shake of his head spoiled his illusion of calm. *There you go, mate. Making up words. You never were any good as a writer.* A quick glance at Buffy to see if she noticed his slip up showed her tucked up in the seat, her head leaning out the window, wide eyes staring sightlessly at the moving scenery. She had said thanks. Spike should be happy. That’s what he wanted wasn’t it. *Just want to be treated like a man for once.* And she was doing just that.

Finally.

Though who knew how long that’d last? *Soon as we find the bloody Watcher she’ll be back to hating my guts. Threatening me dusty endings and all that rot.*

He pulled around the back of Xander’s house, and parked the car behind the drive. Shutting the engine, he leaned back in his seat. Buffy hadn’t moved. Was she sleeping?

Reaching out a hand toward her, Spike placed cool fingers on her shoulder. “Buffy. Luv?” he murmured, attempting to get her attention. “We’re here.”

She turned toward him then. She needed to wash her face. It was red and blotchy and dried tears had left little trails down her cheeks. And despite all that, she was every inch the warrior he’d always known she was.

Wordlessly she slid across the seat until her thigh was touching his. Spike figured she probably wanted him to get out of the car, so she could climb out of the driver’s side, but he was rooted to the spot. *A warrior, but still a girl. So… sad. Has she always been this sad?*

Buffy didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him. She just tentatively wrapped her arms around his waist pulling him closer. Her head dropped to his chest and she clung to him. She didn’t cry, though Spike suspected she wanted to, and if the large gasps of air she was taking were any indication, she was trying mighty hard to keep the waterworks at bay.

The vampire looked down at the Slayer hugging him so fiercely. Placing his arms around her gently, loosely, lest she decide to stake him for touching her, he just let her stay there, mouth working soundlessly as for once, he was left speechless.

~*~

Only a minute had gone by before Buffy sniffled one last time and then drew back. Spike braced himself for some kind of reaction, but none came. She was looking at him intently. As if seeing him for the first time. And it scared him. Because he found himself looking at her in what he suspected was the same manner.

Figuring they couldn’t stay here forever, but desperately wishing he had any clue what was going on, he opened the door, and slid out gracefully. Drawing Buffy out behind him he shut the car door with a quiet click.

The wind picked up slightly rustling his duster and Spike felt the Slayer shiver behind him. He stopped then, suddenly, his nose wrinkling imperceptibly. Buffy must have noticed some shift in his posture, or sensed something as well, because suddenly she was standing up straighter, her head swiveling back and forth as she peered into the darkness.

Turning around to face Buffy, Spike peered out into the Harris’s yard. Whispering quietly, he leaned forward a bit so that the Slayer could here him. “What do you know about that bloke you were snoggin’ in the cemetery earlier?” he asked quietly.

Buffy started visibly, obviously not what she expected him to say. At least she kept her voice down; though her response was less then friendly considering a minute ago she’d been using him as a vamp kleenex. “What? How does that have anything to do with what’s going on?”

A bit impatiently considering that inwardly Spike was ready to bolt, he looked down into her eyes. “Because, luv, he’s somewhere around this house here, along with at least two other people.”

Her eyes widened and she stepped closer to him in order to peer over his shoulder. “I think this is bad Spike.”

“Why’s that, pet? ‘Cuz you’re boyfriend thinks you were making out with your ex-fiancé in the car, or because these guys are the commandos we’ve been so far unable to find?”

Buffy’s mouth dropped open and she shivered again, this time not from the cold. “Commandos?” she whispered. “You’re sure?” A pause, and before Spike had time to answer, “Of course you’re sure.”

Looking up at him, a new light shined in her eyes, she was practically oozing Slayer strength. However, the next words out of her mouth absolutely floored him. “So, how do you want to handle this?”