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banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008

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...part XII...
.:the trials of a hero:.
part two of two

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Glory’s eyes widened. This thing, this mere vampire actually had the nerve to insult her? “I am a god!” she yelled, jaw clenching.

Spike snorted. “Yeah, the god of what, bad home perms?"

Glory’s jaw dropped and her hand went up to her hair, patting it defensively. “Shut up!” she yelped, moving forward menacingly, and wondering exactly why the vampire didn’t seem to be scared of her anymore. “I command you, shut up!"

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, sorry, but I just had no idea that gods were such prancing lightweights.” You’re pushing it, you stupid sod, he thought. Glory scoffed at him in disbelief. His voice dipped down to a threatening, vicious note as he stared at her. “Mark my words, hellbitch... My girl... is going to kick your skanky, lopsided ass... “ Glory’s eyes widened and her head turned as she checked out her ass, still unwilling to believe that his fear had disappeared and that he was actually talking to her that way. “...Back to whatever place would take a... “ He looked her up and down and scoffed, glaring at her, his upper lip curling in disgust. “... A cheap... whorish... fashion victim... ex-god... like you."

Each word had been said with Spike’s biting malevolence, accents being placed on each and every syllable in order to spite her.

And it worked. Perhaps too well.

Glory’s rage took advantage of the situation, and she spun around, delivering a devastating kick to Spike’s solar plexus. He winced as he heard something snap, realizing full well that the bitch had probably just broken three or four of his ribs. The chain binding his wrists gave way, and he flew backwards, crashing into the hallway outside the door. Doing a (completely unintentional) back-somersault, he slammed into a chair, splintering it.

Inside, Glory stared stonily at the chain that had been holding Spike before she’d literally kicked him out. Her demons surrounded her, looking up questioningly. Glory stayed silent for a moment, then said, in a dangerous voice, “Bring him back."

Buffy jumped when Spike flew past her into the wall, and she scrambled over to him, still toting the crossbow and machete. He groaned, muttering, “Good plan, Spike,” then looked up, startled, when Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Buffy?"

She nodded quickly, looking behind her at the minions, then back at him. “Yeah, baby, it’s me. I’m gonna get you out of here, I swear I will.” Together, they ran down the hallway toward the open elevator doors (well, Buffy ran; Spike sort of ran-walked-limped) as the hordes of little hobbits-with-leprosy charged after them. However the doors closed before they could get inside, and in a fury, Buffy screamed, “No!” and slammed her foot into the door.

Spike moaned softly and slid down the wall, looking up at her. Buffy spared a worried glance at him, then looked behind her. Abandoning the task at hand for the moment, she grabbed the crossbow, aimed, and pulled the trigger, shooting one of the charging demons in the chest. He let out a funny little ‘eeee’ sound and flew up, landing on his back with his feet in the air, instantly dead. His comrades ignored their fallen man and continued after the Slayer as Buffy pried open the doors, shoving them apart.

She bent down to Spike and cupped his chin. “Spike, I need you to get down there, can you do that for me?” Spike gave a soft whimper that broke her heart but he nevertheless grunted and turned over on his stomach, sliding into the elevator hatch. Grabbing the machete off of her back, Buffy slashed it across the face of one of the demons nearing her, then jumped down the hatch with Spike, being careful to avoid his already heavily injured body. Opening the latch at the top of the elevator, Buffy gently lowered Spike into it as Jinx and another demon watched them from the open elevator doors. She peered up at them, then lowered herself in as well.

He stood up shakily and Buffy caught him in her arms before he fell over, brushing her fingers over his face. Reaching out her other hand, she took his and squeezed gently.

“Can you run?” she asked. Spike wobbled again and Buffy grabbed at him, wincing. “Whoops, guess not.” The elevator ‘ding’-ed and the doors opened, revealing the demons, led by Murk and Jinx, running down the staircase. Anya and Willow had run back down to the lobby at the sound of their descent, and now all of them stood at the ready for the attack.

Murk started toward the elevator as Jinx initiated the war. “You do not insult Glory by escaping!” he called out. Buffy and Spike scowled at him and simultaneously thrust up their middle fingers. Murk seemed surprised by this reaction; apparently, he’d been expecting them to be quivering in actual fear. Buffy jerked the crossbow in front of her again and fired a bolt, purposely hitting Murk in the right-of-center of his chest. The little demon cried out as he flew back, his eyes widening at the clear sight he now had of the short, powerful blonde girl. “Slayer!” he cried out.

“That would be me,” Buffy muttered under her breath, then turned toward Spike, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then again to his lips. “Stay in here, baby, you’re too weak."

Spike fell back against the wall feebly, lifting one arm to try and clutch at her. “Buff --” he choked, then squeezed his eyes shut as an overwhelming stretch of pain assaulted him, finally succumbing to senselessness. Buffy swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that were trying to force themselves down her cheeks and ignoring the angry voice inside her head that said that she had caused this to happen to him.

Convincing herself that he would be safe inside the elevator, she ran out toward the action. Xander saw her out of the corner of his eye and took a moment to wave. “Hey! Welcome to the chaos!” he called out. Buffy shot him a grin and saluted, then dove headfirst into the fray.

Anya was standing on the final step of the staircase, shooting the bolts from her crossbow wildly at the demons that were attempting to attack her, at times taking the crossbow itself and smashing them frantically over the heads with it. Willow had discarded her own crossbow in favor of her rapidly advancing witchcraft. There was a circle of absolute calm surrounding her, several of the demons being stupid enough to bounce off of the barrier she'd erected, and as her chanting reached a crescendo, her head shot up and her already green eyes glowed almost blindingly brighter. She threw her arms up, capturing the twenty or so demons that had been surrounding the barrier. With one motion, she slammed them into the ceiling before throwing her arms toward the right and sending them flying out of the windows in a rain of broken glass.

Xander spun around as a demon lunged toward him, catching the little bastard with the axe and flipping him over his shoulder. As another demon ran at him from behind, he whirled around just in time to brace the attack.

Buffy looked around and snatched her crossbow up, taking out another demon, until Murk, who had removed the bolt from his chest, advanced on her and kicked it out of her grasp. She spun to look at him and received a punch to the face. Recovering quickly, she kicked Murk down to the ground, then ducked as another demon decided to attack. Kicking Murk twice more, she punched the second demon, then spun around and kicked a third.

Leveling the handle of the axe like a quarter-staff, Xander smacked a demon in the face with it, then fended him off before swinging around and stabbing a second demon in the chest. The first demon recovered and attacked him again, punching him twice. The first demon made an attempt to punch him a third time, but Xander ducked and caught him on the chin with the axe handle. Smacking him a few times, he shoved the blade into his belly and jerked upwards before retrieving it and spinning around.

Murk shot back up to his feet and assaulted Buffy again, aiming a fist at her face. Buffy blocked the punch, brought her leg up in a snap-kick, then ducked another punch. Pulling her arm back, she snapped her fist at him, a punch which he blocked. Knocking him upside the head with a foot, she punched him twice more, catching him fully off guard. Then, spinning, she thrust her foot out and caught him on the side of his head, sending him flying.

As Xander slashed at yet another demon -- where the hell were these guys coming from? -- one more of the little bastards snuck up behind him, catching him in a headlock and pointing a very sharp knife at his throat. Xander gurgled and let out a strangled cry. Giles, who had been slashing demons left and right with his sword, heard him and rushed to his side. Lifting his sword above his head, he brought the hilt down hard on the demon’s skull. The little bugger fell backwards and Giles brought the blade of the sword down, stabbing him in the belly. Free now, Xander gave Giles a grateful grin, then dove headfirst toward a reviving demon, tackling him to the ground. Straddling said demon, Xander began punching him gleefully.

Now he knew why Buffy enjoyed this so much. It was a kick-ass stress-reliever!

Finally, he grabbed the dagger that he had swiped off of the other demon before he’d been set free and drove it down into the belly of the demon he was sitting on. Standing up and brushing himself off, Xander began glancing around. He spotted Jinx and Murk running back up the steps and called out, “Buffy!” before he was tackled from the side by another demon who hadn’t had the smarts to escape with the ones that had gotten away.

The Slayer jerked her head up in time to see Jinx and Murk retreating, then rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Her head twisted in Anya’s direction, the former demon shrieking as one of the few demons left began grabbing at her. Buffy darted toward the girl and struck a blow to the back of the demon’s head. Grabbing either side of his face as he turned around to her, she twisted, snapping his neck cleanly.

Looking around to Xander, she saw that the demon he was now combating with had his arm wrapped tightly around Xander’s throat. The boy jabbed his elbow into the demon’s stomach, then turned and began punching him in retaliation. “Xander!” Buffy called out, hefting her machete up in the air. Xander turned and, seeing what Buffy had planned, ran and hid behind Giles. The Watcher turned and scowled at him.

Buffy threw the machete, watching grimly as the sharp silver metal flew through the air and embedded itself into Xander’s assailant. And suddenly, all was silent. Buffy looked around and noticed that the lobby was now littered with nothing but dead demons. Her eyes latched onto the elevator and she rushed down the steps. “Giles!” she called out. “Get that thing off of my machete, I’m not leaving it here!"

Hurrying toward the elevator doors, she sank to her knees and crawled in, taking in Spike’s face. She wasn’t sure what was worse: that he was so bloody that the red cascade hid most of his serious injuries, or the fact that he had even more serious injuries underneath the blood. She drew a deep shaky breath, then pulled him into her arms, grunting softly as she lifted him. It was easier picking him up when he wasn’t unconscious, mostly because he helped her boost up, but carrying a sack of one-hundred and fifty-eight-odd pounds of dead weight vampire was putting a serious strain on her muscles.

She carried him out of the elevator, staggering slightly under the weight, and walked to the middle of the lobby, viciously kicking aside one of the dead demons, as if it was redemption for what their master had done to her lover.

Xander, who had otherwise been occupied (Anya had thrown her arms around him in relief a few seconds earlier and had a grip like an octopus), stopped kissing his girlfriend and froze in absolute shock at the sight of Spike’s battered body, Willow and Giles parroting him with their silence. Anya glanced at him and held her hand over her mouth, her skin tinting a bit green and hinting at nausea. “Oh, my god,” she whispered.

Buffy, her body trembling and the tears she'd pushed away earlier threatening her eyes again, remained quiet for a moment, studying his face. She’d been so incredibly close to losing him, and the last thing he would have remembered of her was her voice calling out his Sire’s name. How incredibly stupid was she, exactly?

She lifted her head and peered out the doors of the apartment building, eyeing daybreak wearily. She turned slightly, protectively hiding Spike from any stray rays of the rising sun. She glanced at her mentor. “It’s morning. I’m not gonna let him fry. We need to get him out of here."

Giles stared at his charge quietly for a moment, examining the girl’s ravaged face. Carefully, he removed his coat and placed it over Spike, draping it over the vampire’s torso. Buffy looked up at him slowly and he smiled gently at her. “I’ll go collect my car,” he said softly.

Buffy returned his smile with a weaker one of her own. As he turned to leave, she called out, “Giles!” He turned slightly, looking at her. She bit her lip. “Thank you.” Giles smiled, nodding his head, and continued walking.

Buffy lowered her head, returning her gaze to Spike. She shifted him slightly and sat down cross-legged on the floor, placing him in her lap. Willow moved over and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Buffy’s shoulders, and the Slayer gave a deep sigh, then allowed her shoulders to shake from the sob that escaped her throat. Anya pulled away from Xander and moved to sit in front of Willow, murmuring something to the witch about a healing spell. The ex-demon placed a gentle hand on top of Buffy’s, and gave the Slayer a tiny, brave smile. Buffy sniffled, but managed a smile back. It wasn’t very often that Anya expressed sympathy. Buffy had a feeling that Anya somehow knew how deeply her feelings for Spike ran.

Xander quietly stood back, gazing at his three women. Willow -- his best friend since diapers and the only champion he'd had throughout the years; Anya -- his other half, his girlfriend and lover... and Buffy. Jesus, what could he say about Buffy? She’d been his crush, his best friend, his consort, his muse, his savior (more times than he’d like to admit)... most of all, she was his idol. He’d stood by her for so long, and watched every single torment that the Powers had put her through; he saw her fly through each and every opposition, maybe not with ease, but with sheer grace and determination of spirit. She’d had her heart broken more times than the Powers should have allowed. She’d been put through the ringer because of her duties, and once, four years ago, she had even died because of those same duties. And she just kept going. She amazed him with every breath she took.

He watched her now, staring at her face; he took in her distraught form, cradling Spike so close, being so protective of him. She looked utterly devastated. Yeah, he hated Spike, but the truth was, the blonde jerk had grown on him. He’d begun to anticipate their barb-slinging fights and pool matches, the name-calling competitions and what-not. And as much as he hated to admit it... ever since Buffy had dumped Riley, ever since Buffy had latched on to Spike... He had never seen the girl happier since before Angel had become Angelus. And it grieved him to know that it was Spike’s doing.

One night, after they had rescued Dawn from the hospital, Xander had followed the Slayer on her patrol after watching her exhibit some of that brand new perky attitude -- he and the others had deduced that she must have been seeing someone but that the relationship was still too new to thrust the guy past her attack-dog friends. He had stayed at least two-hundred paces behind her, but followed closely enough to have a good view. When Spike appeared the instant she stepped on to the cemetery’s grounds, he’d expected Buffy to become cold and distant, telling Spike to stay the hell away from her, as she'd done in the past. Instead, he’d had to turn away in shock and surprise when Buffy had grinned and thrown her arms around Spike, obviously euphoric to see the bloodsucker.

He hated the idea of Buffy being with another vampire. This girl had become like his sister, and the thought of any harm coming to her from another vampire, after all the chaos that Angel’s evil twin had caused, drove him crazy. She was worth so much more than that, his Buffy was. That was why he'd agreed with Angel's reason for leaving -- Buffy deserved a normal life. One that didn't include the undead as potential boyfriends.

But the thing about Buffy was that she wasn't normal. She was built like a human, yeah, but everything about her spoke supernatural. Even if she still wanted that normal life anymore - which she apparently didn't - she'd never be able to keep it. Buffy had always had things in common with Spike. What stood out the most in his mind was their ability to challenge tradition in every which way, and their ability to love with all their beings.

Xander hadn’t forgotten Drusilla. He wished he could, the damn psychotic bitch, but he’d been there when Spike had returned to Sunnydale after the whole Acathla mess. Granted he'd been knocked out most of the time that Spike had held him and Willow captive, but he had still caught a glimpse of how empty and hollow Spike had been because the cracker had broken up with him. And he’d seen Spike the year before that, almost always adoring, almost bending over backwards when in the company of his beloved Princess. Spike had adored Drusilla, had worshipped the earth at her feet.

Buffy had likewise adored Angel, though not to the same extent. Angel had been her first everything, almost. She had loved that bastard with every part of her being, and unfortunately, it had nearly killed them all. It had taken Xander a while to admit it, but it hadn’t been her fault. All she’d done was love him -- she hadn’t known anything about the repercussions of his curse.

He thought back to past times that he’d seen the Buffy and Spike together. Thanksgiving last year; the horrible Willow-spell-gone-awry that had convinced them that they were engaged; their intimate little dance at the Bronze a few weeks ago, and countless other times. Spike was enamored with the blonde Slayer, and Xander knew now, for sure, that Buffy was just as enamored with Spike.

He didn’t like it, and he probably wouldn’t for the rest of his life. But Spike made Buffy happy. And if Spike was what she needed, then Xander would make damn sure that Spike was what Buffy would get.

He walked over as Willow and Anya moved about a foot away -- probably to do a spell -- and slipped off his jacket. He sat down next to Buffy and gently nudged her arm. She looked up at him and he smiled slightly as he spread the jacket over Spike’s bottom half. Buffy’s eyes widened as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He shrugged.

“Hey... somebody’s gotta stick around to beat me shamelessly at pool,” he explained. The tiniest of grateful smiles cracked Buffy’s face, and she openly sobbed, resting her head on his shoulder. Xander sighed softly and wrapped his arm around her slight form, resting his head on top of hers as she cried softly.

About ten minutes later, a honk signified Giles’ return.

---

Buffy had kept her word to Dawn. She had pulled an E.T. and phoned home using Xander's cell phone to alert her sister that Spike had been recovered. She’d needed to hold the phone about a foot away from her ear when Dawn had shrieked, and Buffy had heard a very distinct 'thump' and 'crash,' which she assumed meant that her sister had gotten overly excited and had bounced either Mom or Tara and knocked them down, dragging a vase or lamp along in the process. If she wasn't feeling so guilty and miserable, the thought (and the image it brought to mind) would have amused her.

That was why her mother, Dawn, and Tara were all standing at the door impatiently when they arrived. Joyce clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight of Spike’s prone body under Xander and Giles’ coats. Dawn’s eyes widened and she gave a soft, terrified sounding whimper when Buffy entered carrying Spike; Giles, Willow, Anya and Xander all followed. Tara immediately went over to her girlfriend, looking at Spike sadly, her eyes filled with concern. She exchanged a glance with Willow, but the red-headed Wicca shook her head, remaining silent.

A hysterical scream cut through the air when Giles and Xander removed their coats and Dawn’s eyes fell on Spike’s bloody form. “Oh my god! Spike, oh my god, what happened to him, what did she do to him?!” the teenager bawled, rushing towards Buffy and grabbing at the body of her protector.

Buffy jerked away from Dawn desperately, trying to keep a firm hold on her lover. “Dawn! Dawn, stop, otherwise you’re gonna make me drop him!” she cried out. Joyce, her jaw dropped in horror, walked up behind Dawn and wrapped her arms tightly around the girl, turning her tear-streaked face away from the gruesome mess of Spike’s face.

Buffy looked around uneasily, her movements jerky and unsure. She focused her gaze on her mother. “He needs to stay here... somewhere. I won’t leave him alone in his crypt."

Joyce responded immediately, pushed on by the heartache she felt at the sound of her youngest daughter’s sobs and the fear and worry she saw in Buffy’s eyes. “He can stay in my room as long as he needs. I’ll stay with Dawn until then."

Buffy shook her head. "No, stay in my room." She looked at Spike's prone, unconscious form again, biting her trembling lower lip. "I need to stay with him."

Joyce gave a small nod and Buffy sighed, looking around anxiously before carrying him up the stairs. Giles followed behind her, quietly asking her about heavy blankets for the windows.

The rest of the Scoobies and the remaining two Summers women watched as the three disappeared, and finally Willow sunk heavily onto the couch, her face in her hands. “I feel awful about Spike, and horrible for Buffy, I really do... but what if he told Glory about the Key?” she asked quietly.

Xander wrapped his arm tightly around Anya, stared up the staircase quietly, then looked back at his best friend of twenty years. “He didn’t, Will. Don’t know how I know. He just didn’t."

It was the shock of hearing the hint of sadness and support for Spike in Xander's voice - Xander, who hated anything undead with a vengeance - that stunned Willow to the core, and gave her relief. She nodded.

---

Giles had helped her clean him up as best he could. Now she wasn’t sure why they'd gotten rid of all the blood, because honestly, Spike looked worse without the gore all over him. Her lover was now sporting two, blue-black shiners on both eyes. His lower lip had been busted open. His nose was broken. Deep, red furrows covered his cheeks.

The brand new stake wound in his chest was bright red and throbbing, no where near healing yet; it had only now just started clotting, and the slightest movement would break it open again. Bruises covered his arms and chest. There was a big, ugly round wound in his stomach. She assumed that had been the first claim-affect wound she’d felt, outside the apartments, and she honestly didn't want to know how it had gotten there. From the looks of his middle, he had a few broken ribs. And then there was that big, hideous signature Glory had left on his torso.

Buffy had insisted that they wrap him up to get rid of it faster.

Her Watcher had stayed a little longer to toss some heavy winter blankets over the windows of Joyce’s room, and they’d spread a canvas sheet out on the bed to keep the blood from damaging the covers. He'd gone home now, as had most everybody else except Willow and Tara. Willow was downstairs, doing her best to explain to Dawn in very minor details what exactly had gone down. Dawn may have thought she was old enough to hear all the gory details, but the truth was, she'd be up having nightmares for about five months if she heard what exactly had been done to Spike.

Buffy herself had been up here since she’d brought him home. That had been about two hours ago. Eight-thirty AM, the most ungodly time in the world to be up. She hadn’t closed her eyes once in the last fifteen hours.

She was standing in the door now, a cup of tea that her mother had brought her warming her hands as she silently gazed at her boyfriend -- no, not boyfriend. She didn't reserve the right to call him that, not after what she'd done to him. She only hoped that he could forgive her for it, and they could start over. What else could she do?

He was so still right now... true, he was only unconscious, but if he'd been human, she would be staring at her lover's corpse right now.

Christ, if he'd been human... and how foolish was she to base everything on humanity? Glory's minions had come after Spike because he was close to her, because Buffy had admitted that he was her boyfriend, and because it was obvious how much she cared about him.

If he'd been human, she wouldn't be waiting for him to wake up. She'd be mourning his body and his spirit, because he'd be dead.

God, she was the biggest bitch in the world.

She had allowed her fear of her past relationships get the better of her, and she'd ended up doing something she had never thought she was capable of -- she’d broken Spike’s heart.

What kind of a woman did that to the man she loved?

A bitchy, cold-hearted, insecure one, her subconscious responded in a reproachful tone.

Buffy lowered her head and stared into the tea cup. Chamomile, with just a bit of eucalyptus and lemon, something to help soothe her, her mother said.

Soothing. Pfft. Yeah, right. She was wound up tighter than a bed spring. Spike hadn’t moved once in the last -- she glanced at the alarm clock -- two hours, fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Not even to moan or shift. He was dead to the world.

Dammit, there was that word again. Dead. Dead, dead, dead. That was what Spike would have been if she hadn’t gotten there in time, only in this case, it would have been permanent. That was what she would be if Spike ever woke up and reverted back to hating her.

She liked it when he loved her a lot better.

But she knew she deserved whatever was coming to her. An Angry Spike was fun to mess with, a Drunken Spike was amusing to watch, but a Heartbroken Spike was a force to be reckoned with. She wondered briefly just what kind of torture it had taken him to win Drusilla back from that Chaos demon. He had obviously managed to get her back, despite the fact that she'd later dumped him again, and he'd ended up visiting Hell with the Stupidest Vampire Who Could.

She wondered what sort of torture she would be in for when he was feeling good enough to repay her for her cruelty.

Of course, there was one tiny little upside in this. Back at Glory’s lair, when Spike had been insulting Glory and doing his best to rile her up, he’d mentioned something about ‘his girl’ kicking Glory back to her little hellhole. That had to be good, right? He was referring to her as his girl?

Unless ‘his girl’ was Dru or Harmony, which she truly doubted since Dru didn’t seem to care enough about her boy anyway, and Harmony was... well, Harmony.

She might be in the clear after all.

She looked toward the bed again, and jumped in barely contained excitement. He was waking up. She darted to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbing his hand. “Spike, honey?"

The vampire’s head turned slightly to the right, and when his scratch marks met the cool pillow, he hissed in pain, grumbling under his breath. “Bitch,” he muttered, his hand shrinking out of Buffy’s grip.

Buffy looked down at her empty hand. Then again, maybe she was screwed for all life, because she had driven the man who loved her away. She sighed miserably. “I deserve that. I am a bitch. I’m so sorry, Spike, I... I was just scared...” Spike grunted softly and shifted again, and Buffy nodded. “No, you’re right, that’s no excuse. I should have talked to you, told you. I shouldn’t have said all those awful things to you. I’m so, so sorry, Spike.” She bit her lip and decided to try her luck. “Can you forgive me?"

He growled softly, then gave a soft ‘hmph’ and cracked his eyes open. “First off, luv, I was talking ‘bout the hellbitch. I wanna know where she went so I can fuck her up for doing this to me.” Buffy gave a tiny smile.

Which disappeared in the next second. “An’ second, I’m not so sure I want to forgive you. That was absolute bullshit what you pulled back at my crypt, Slayer.” Ooh, ooh, bad, he was back to calling her ‘Slayer.’ He only did that when he was truly pissed at her.

She sighed. “I know, I know, I never should’ve--"

“Bloody right, you shouldn’t have!” he snapped. When he saw her visibly shrink back, his gaze softened and he sighed, his voice taking on a plaintive, pleading tone. “Why would you do that to me, Buffy? You know how I feel about my sire. It wasn’t enough that the jackass had to lose his soul and take Dru away from me, but how do you think it feels to know that his poofier, self-righteous half was the one you loved? He was your first love, Buffy, how in the bloody fuck can I compete with that? Then to hear his name come out of your mouth when...” He trailed off and turned his head away.

“I wasn’t thinking about him, Spike,” Buffy said, catching his hand again. “I was thinking about you... nothing but you... I can’t think of anything else. You... I don’t know what you do to me, Spike. But I like it. Because it makes me feel... because it makes me happy. I didn’t have that with Angel. I never had that with Riley.” Spike grunted at the use of the soldier’s name. Buffy smiled and continued, reaching up and touching his cheek. “So why do I feel happy with you? I guess that’s the major extra-credit question. And I think I know the answer to it."

Spike’s eyes quirked upwards to it with barely disguised interest. Buffy leaned forward and kissed the shell of his ear. “I love you,” she whispered.

He froze and stared up at her, eyes widening in awe. Unfortunately, they were also tinged with disbelief, and Buffy felt it her duty to remedy that as soon as possible. She pushed him down onto his back gently, then tilted her head, pressing her lips softly to his. “I love you, Spike,” she murmured again, smiling.

Spike stared up at her, looking as though he had something to say, but he remained silent for the moment. Finally, he sighed and looked away. “I still don’t know if I can forgive what you did. You can’t just do that, luv, whether you love me or not.” He sighed again. “I'm sorry, pet. Give me some time to mull it over. Alone."

The smile dropped off of Buffy’s face, and she looked down, stinging tears pinpricking her eyes. “Right. I understand. I’ll just... leave you alone.” He nodded absently, and Buffy sighed, wiping at her cheeks as she walked towards the door.

She was halfway out when he called her back. Frowning, she tilted her head at him. He quirked his lips to the side in an imitation of his renowned sardonic smile and shrugged.

“Had enough time to think it over. An’ to be honest, sweetheart, you know I’ve never been much of a thinker. More of a ‘get up an’ do-er.’ Point I’m getting at is, I’m a sorely whipped, fluffy little puppy... an’ I’m yours. You’re forgiven."

Buffy stared at him for a moment, not comprehending. Then one of the little voices in her mind kicked her ass into gear. A stunned smile grew across her lips and she exhaled in astonishment, then gave a soft, happy, ‘I-can’t-believe-it’ laugh and ran over to him, hugging him as hard as she could without stirring any of the wounds under their gauze and dressings. “Oh, god, thank you,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “I’m so glad you’re all right."

Spike glared down at her. “All right? You think this is all right? Woman, go get your top checked!"

Buffy grinned and scrunched her nose up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Spike."

He gave a one-armed shrug. “Not your fault. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Now stop saying you’re sorry."

Buffy nodded quickly. “Right, you’re right. Sorry.” He growled. She giggled. “Okay, okay, last time, I’m sorry for being sorry!"

“Slayer!” he barked. “Knock it off!"

Buffy nodded. “Right. Sorry."

He turned an irritated gaze at her. “Buffy..."

She giggled. “Okay, I’m done, I promise."

He grunted. “Good. Now get over here an' gimme a kiss."

Never one to disobey -- actually, always one to disobey, but not when it came to something like this -- she leaned forward and covered his mouth with her own.

And oh, the world of Spike-kissage. She figured that to him, the only thing that would be better than being kissed, was being kissed by her. That, or other activities that required limber bodies and a little more athletic training. But, soft, warm, melty kisses that turned her insides to mush and if she was standing, she probably would’ve had to lean on him for full support.

From his point of view, this was just the first step toward the pinnacle of All Things Buffy. She was so warm, so hot, so scalding, her nimble, impertinent little tongue dashing in and out of his mouth, flicking his lips, tracing his gums and reaching nearly to the back of his throat, which reminded him of the fact that he needed to have that little mouth on areas other than his own lips more often.

The sound of a throat being cleared from behind them made Buffy jump and break the kiss. She turned around, startled, then scowled at the tall, lanky form of her sister.

Dawn stood at the door, blue eyes mischievously bright, and pink little mouth quirked in an amused little curl.

“So busted. Is Buffy being good to you, Spike? Anything I need to call her on?” she asked, turning her gaze to the slightly-frustrated vampire on the bed.

He looked at her, affection warming his frustrated gaze. He lifted his arm, wincing slightly at the pressure it placed on his ribs, and wrapped it around Buffy’s shoulders. “Actually, big sis here isn’t such a bint after all, Pint-size. Second 'fore you came in, she was admitting to being a bitch and lowering herself to apologize to me."

Dawn’s eyes widened. “You mean Buffy came off of her pedestal? And I missed it? Dammit!"

Buffy glared at her sister. “Watch your mouth. And that qualifies for a hey. Hey!"

Spike chuckled and motioned to Dawn. “C’mere, Nibblet."

Dawn happily bounced over and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here!" she mumbled into his skin. "I don't know what I would've done if Buffy hadn't gotten you back."

Spike closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "Well, I'm here. In helluva lot of pain, but here. No worries. I'll heal."

Buffy tilted her head. "Are you supposed to be up here?"

Dawn immediately became defensive. "Mom's in the kitchen making Spike hot chocolate and warming up some blood; she didn't say I couldn't come up here, she just said I had to be on the couch when she got back!"

Buffy grinned at her sister's interpretation of Mom's orders. "Then you should get back now. Mom has a Spidey sense, too, y'know. Remember? The one that tells her when her daughters aren't listening to her?"

Dawn grimaced, then nodded. "Right." She turned and headed toward the door. "Now, no channeling the Discovery Channel bunnies, okay? Unless you want Spike to strain a few different muscles," she said slyly, looking at her sister.

Spike jaw dropped and he shot up reaching for her, regardless of his injuries. "Why you cheeky little--" The repercussions of his actions caught up to him and he slithered back against the bed in pain, whimpering. Dawn giggled and ran off down the hallway.

Buffy smiled down at him, stroking his forehead. "No moving, Spike. You'll start to bleed even worse."

The vampire grunted and glared at her. "Yes, Mum."

Buffy's grin grew wider and she squirmed onto the bed next to him, her hand still attached to his, and rested her forehead against his.

Spike smiled, and sighed, breathing in the sweet vanilla of her skin and the aromatic lavender of her hair. This was how it was supposed to be. This was where he belonged. With Dawn running around the house, taunting them and humiliating Buffy like a good little sis would. With the woman he loved cuddled up next to him, loving him back -- and he had no doubt that she loved him now, not after what she'd done to get him back. And hell, Joyce was downstairs in the kitchen making him some hot chocolate and blood, for God's sake!

Granted, it was going to take a while for Joyce to get used to the idea that her daughter was in love with another vampire, and vice versa after all the shite that the poor woman had gone through. First Angelus, who'd been pretty much as stupid a wanker as they came. Then the army poof, with that smarmy grin that let everyone know how much better he thought he was than them. And now, him. Buffy's second vampire. Granted, Joyce liked him a hell of a lot better than she'd ever liked Angel -- enter smug grin here -- but Spike had once been hell-bent on killing the woman's daughter. His mind fondly called up his first meeting with the brave, brazen older woman -- more particularly, an especially painful axe to the head, and a vicious "Get the hell away from my daughter!"

Now he saw where Buffy got it from. He had never expected this Slayer to have friends and family on her side.

Maybe Joyce wouldn't be happy that a vampire was putting the life-time commitment-y thing on her eldest, but then maybe she'd just be happy that her daughter had found someone who would literally drop eternity to be with her. It would take a while, either way, but Spike could prove himself to her. After all, he wasn't Angel. Angel ran away when the going got tough. Angel gave up the most precious thing in existence, and then demanded from far away that she follow the rules he set down for her. Angel had ruined Buffy's life.

Spike was slowly putting her back together. Spike wouldn't ever leave. And even if it did become a problem, Joyce would just have to get used to it. Especially since it seemed that 1630 Revello Drive was his new home. Buffy had dragged him in, and he was pretty sure he was never going to come out.

But Gods, it'd be nice if they could be accepted. Spike already seemed to have made an impression on the Scoobies - and that alone was a major surprise, considering he had never thought that they'd get past Buffy's Watcher. But Joyce, Dawn and Buffy were the ones that really mattered -- the matriarch of the family, the one who fixed him hot chocolate with the squishy little marshmallows in it, who had comforted him when Drusilla had broken his heart; Dawn, the inquisitive little wench, the snoop, the one with the college-level vocabulary and the sarcastic dry-wit; she truly was a Bitty Buffy.

And then, of course, his Buffy. His Slayer. His enemy. His lover. His everything. The beautiful woman with a heart of gold, the Slayer that had broken all the rules by falling in love with a vampire, the Slayer who had actually been brave enough to quit the Council, and in his eyes, the most powerful Slayer to ever walk the earth. She had eternally tainted him. Not that it wasn't a good thing. Very, very good, in fact. No other soul-less demon could claim that they'd fallen in love with the Slayer and had her love him back.

He actually belonged somewhere, now. He was welcomed with open arms into the Summers' household. He was respected and treated as an equal by Joyce, Dawn adored and admired him (and he could swear the little chit held quite a fancy for him, too), and to Buffy... he had suddenly become the world. He was her happiness, her joy. And Buffy herself had given him so much already. Just by trusting his love and loyalty, and allowing him to freely enter her home for four straight years, she had given him... everything.

She'd given him a family.

She'd given him a home.

She'd given him a reason to live.

That was a lot more than he'd ever been given before.

And as for the whole evil thing...? Well, he was pretty sure there were other areas in and around the house where he could truly unleash it on Buffy in his own creative way. Up against a wall, the doors, the bathroom, the washing machine...

The thought brought a truly blissful grin to Spike's face.

Yeah. This could do.



TBC.



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