Chapter 2

***

The next time he saw Buffy was in Fred’s impressive laboratory. Knox, Fred’s tall spaniel-like assistant, was darting between a computer and a sealed glass case, eagerly demonstrating something or other to the Slayer. Fred was there too and gave him a swift knowing smile. On closer inspection Spike could see that the case contained his amulet and it was emitting a faint pulsing glow.

“Here, should you be messing with that? I don’t fancy going back in the magic lamp – never know when I’ll get a good rub again.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Oh, no,” Knox responded. “We don’t think that you’re connected to it anymore, not since becoming corporeal anyway. It seems to be a one time deal; the power it took to destroy the Hellmouth - and contain and then release your essence - seems to have completely drained it.”

“Yes,” added Fred. “We think it behaves like a giant transformer, converting energy from one form into another. These scrolls,” she brushed her slim hands across a few rolled up pieces of parchment, making them rustle, “seem to indicate that the amulet was specifically created to work only on humans blended with additional supernatural power, like that of a demon.”

“You mean any stupid sod of a vampire could have closed the Hellmouth?” exclaimed Spike incredulously.

“No,” Fred hastened to explain. “The extra boost needed for a task as ginormous as closing a Hellmouth was provided by your soul, and your willingness to die for the greater good. How many ordinary vampires would have done that, do you think?”

“Well, that’s all right then,” Spike muttered.

All eyes turned to the door as Dawn entered the room slightly out of breath. “Hi, guys,” she said, beaming at Spike. “This place is so cool. It even has its own slushy machine on the fourth floor, and I’ve been lost like seventeen times trying to find you.” She hopped up onto a worktop, blithely nudging several thousand dollars worth of scientific equipment with her behind.

Knox gave her a startled look before darting forward to retrieve a glass jar - filled with something indescribable - that Dawn was just about to send crashing to the floor.

“Baby Loxlar demon brains,” he explained. “They’re so hard to come by.” Knox carefully placed the jar away from Dawn’s hyperactive body. “We were just discussing Spike’s amulet,” he told the youngster. “We’ve been trying to see if we can reproduce its energy transmitting properties under laboratory conditions.”

“Damn bad idea,” growled the vamp.

“But what if we could recharge it safely, Spike?” Fred spoke up excitedly. “If we can understand how it works then we’d have an amazing weapon against the next demon army that comes to town. And if the wearer could control the amount of energy released then bingo! No need for flamey self sacrifice.”

“Anyway,” added the young man despondently, “we haven’t been able to work out how to recharge it in the first place, or with what kind of energy. All we know is that it has to be mystical in nature.”

Dawn and Buffy looked sharply at each other. Buffy gave a slight shake of her head, and got a small nod of agreement from Dawn in response. Spike watched the exchange with a frown. He realised that it was highly unlikely Wolfram and Hart were in the dark about Dawn’s unique ‘keyness’ and, coupled with Fred’s enthusiasm for the project, it was just a matter of time before geek boy started sniffing around Dawn. They’d all have to be a bit careful here.

Buffy beamed brightly. “Well, I’m famished. Come on, Dawn, let’s grab some lunch.” And before anyone could respond she’d hauled her sister out of the lab, steel doors swinging in their wake.

Spike, ignored throughout by the Slayer, gave a soft growl and slowly followed them out before veering off in another direction. He needed to be on his own where he could gather his thoughts. He needed a plan…and Buffy couldn’t avoid him forever.

***

Buffy and Dawn were queuing in the enormous staff canteen for a selection of unhealthy fast food, carefully avoiding the demon snacks, - some of which seemed to be undercooked to the point of being, well, still alive.

“So, have you spoken to Spike yet?” asked Dawn, knowing full well she hadn’t.

“It’s complicated,” muttered Buffy eyeing her burger with suspicion. “He’s still a jerk,” she said finally. “I’d forgotten how much. You tend to remember all the good stuff about people when they’re dead - or dust in his case - not the immature, infuriating, insensitive, evil vampire stuff you should be remembering.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Buffy. Of course he’s all that – he’s Spike - well, except the eeevil bit. Not evil, Buffy, you know that. And, he’s a man as well as a vampire, so hey, double handicap. He still loves you to pieces - anyone can see that - the question is when are you going to tell him how you really feel?”

“Told him once.”

“When?”

“In the Hellmouth, just before he got cremated.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He said ‘no, you don’t, but thanks for saying it’.”

“Oh, Buffy, talk about a last minute decision.” Dawn sighed, sympathising with her sister but seeing all too easily how she really needed to work on her communication skills with Spike. “I bet he thought you were just being kind, you know? The condemned man’s last wish and all that.”

“Yeah, that’s what he thought.” Buffy’s sigh echoed Dawn’s.

“Well, we’ve travelled half way across the world for this little reunion so I expect to see results.”

Buffy just stared down at her plate as if it contained the secrets of the universe. The clatter of cutlery and chatter of the employees around them faded into the background as she tried to calm herself.

“Why didn’t he try to see us, Dawnie? Why did he just stay here without a word that he was back?” Buffy looked as if she was going to cry.

“What I’d like to know is why no one else mentioned it,” said Dawn. “Come on, eat up and then it’s off to shop till we drop.”

“Dawn, we’ve just come from London. We’ve bought more new clothes and shoes than even I could want. You can’t possibly need any more things.”

“Yes, Mother.” Dawn smirked. “But I was thinking we needed something a little more vamp friendly this time. You know, a splash of red satin, a bit of leather, something that makes a statement.”

“The ‘I’m a complete slut, crush me against your un-beating heart, you sexy bloodsucking beast you’ kind of statement?”

“See, now you’re getting it.”

***

Spike was sitting casually in Angel’s vast office when she eventually found him; black booted feet propped up on the desk and duster draped over the large swivel chair. He was wearing his usual T-shirt and jeans belted with a silver buckle that gleamed. His hair was a little mussed up, with little tufty curls reminiscent of his crazy in the basement look. He looked a bit tired and was reading a battered paperback.

“If you’re lookin’ for his lordship he’s out mingling with his subjects,” he said, not glancing up.

“I know. Harmony was most helpful about telling me where everyone is. I didn’t even need to threaten her much.”

“Yeah, she’s trying hard to fit in.” He sighed. “It’s not easy for her, what with being basically stupid an’ all.”

“Didn’t stop you ‘shagging’ her though.”

Spike groaned. “Look, I’m unbelievably sorry about that. I’d just got my body back and needed to check if it was still in full working order…so to speak.” Before he knew it she’d flown across the room and he was reeling back from a fierce uppercut.

“Yep, you feel corporeal enough to me!”

“Fuck, Slayer! I’ve had it with you hitting me.” He pressed one hand to his throbbing jaw as the other bunched into a fist, ready to retaliate.

“Whasamatter, Spike? Left your lightning reflexes behind in that cheap costume jewellery?”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned. Buffy couldn’t express herself with words so she was talking with her body instead. It was the way she dealt with all difficulties that arose between them. He was a bit disappointed that she could slip back so easily into their old games, but if that’s what it took to get past this stalemate then so be it.

Spike rose from the chair and shifted into a fighter’s stance, anticipating her next punch. She wore a slightly mischievous smile, one he hadn’t seen for too long. They both moved to the centre of the large room, circling each other like boxers in a ring. At some invisible signal the evenly matched fighters met in a violent flurry of blows and kicks, punctuated with grunts of pain and sharp barks of laughter. So began their violent dance, neither holding back…and it felt so good.

After twenty minutes or so of smacking each other around - and wrecking the office - Spike roared with pleasure as he sent the Slayer flying backwards over Angel’s desk, where she disappeared in a shower of paperwork.

“Right! That’s it, Big Bad! You’re going down.” Wielding a ruler like a stake she jumped up onto the desk and sprang the ten feet needed to reach the grinning vampire. Instead of retreating Spike caught her in his arms and fell backwards.

“Plastic rulers don’t make good stakes, pet.”

“Nonsense, that was just to lull you into a false sense of security.” She smirked before settling firmly on top of him. He lay within the tight grip of her thighs, one of her hands outstretched to stroke his face while the other absently brushed the ruler back and forth over his heart. They just stared at each other until he slowly reached up a hand to cup the back of her skull, gently pulling her down to his waiting lips.

Just as their mouths met, it all ended.

The room bleached white around them, the light of an exploding sun reaching out to pierce them cell deep as they clung together...and a single whisper, like a tattered ghost, sighed “too late” as they plunged into nothingness.

***