A/N - So it's been a really long time hasn't it? I won't bore you all with excuses as to why it's been months since an update, I'll just say that I'm returning to the story. This chapter is very short compared to previous ones and was written over a matter of weeks so I apologise if the flow is non-existent. My outline underwent some serious work and as of now I have to figure out a different ending from the original one I had. I expect updates to lean towards every three weeks to monthly, though I'll certainly try to get them out faster.

A very special thank you to Novva whose bold passion was the kick in the ass I needed to get this chapter finished. I know it's been a long time, but I did mean it when I promised to never leave a fic unfinished.

Chapter Fifteen - In A Blackout

Her first warning that something was amiss should have been how silent the house seemed. Unfortunately, Buffy had more pressing issues to think about at the moment, such as how to unlock her front door while laden with shopping bags. Her arms were overflowing with purchases, her mother not any better off. It took quite a bit of shuffling before she managed to get an arm free and dig the house key out of her pocket. Unlocking the door quickly, she stepped inside and dumped her burden on the floor.

Joyce followed suit, though she was far more delicate than her daughter had been. Hip checking the door closed, the two of them began to pull off their mess of coats, hats, and shoes. Winter was officially upon Sunnydale, heavy jackets replacing lighter windbreakers. Though it was still too warm for snow, there was a definite nip in the air that warned of bleak days ahead. Not that Buffy minded, her last encounter with snow had definitely not been celebratory in nature. That had been the morning Angel had tried to greet the sun.

"If it's okay with you, I think we should just order a pizza for dinner. I had no idea we would be out so late shopping." Joyce looked at the large collection of bags that had overtaken the foyer.

What had started as a simple quest for tree lights had tumbled into an all out shopping trip. Every store they had passed in the mall had held something they need for the house. Food, a new set of placemats, and cleaning products had joined an array of mismatched purchases.

"Pizza sounds great." Buffy sighed, knowing she would have to go out and patrol soon.

She hoped to coerce Spike into going with her this time. Despite his complete inability to follow her orders, he was a more than capable fighter. Conversation also made the night go faster, especially now that is was getting cold.

The two of them still needed to talk as well. Some of the things he had said in Giles' bathroom were still bothering her.

Spike…

For the first time since entering the house, she actually took a look around. Most of the lights were off, aside from the ones her mother had just turned on. Everything was still in its place, the remote laying on the television cabinet and several magazines stacked on the coffee table.

She had been joking, mostly, when she had asked that Spike not destroy the house. He was not an exceedingly messy person, most of his possessions having a specific place. She still expected to see some sign of life in the house however. As far as she could tell, nothing had been so much as looked at since she and her mother had left earlier.

Joyce did not appear to notice the disappearance of her houseguest. Ladened with shopping bags, she staggered towards the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "What kind of pizza should I order?"

"Whatever you want." Buffy said absently, gaze wandering to the staircase.

Spike had not left the house, his boots were still by the door and she doubted he would wander outside barefoot. That left only one other option. Feeling far more trepadition than the situation called for, she crept up the stairs.

The upstairs looked suspiciously normal, just as the lower floor did. Trying to shake off the sense of doubt that plagued her, she approached the guest room door and knocked.

"Spike?" She said, just loud enough for him to hear if he was awake.

The door remained impassive.

She pressed her ear against the wooden surface. No sound, not even rustling sheets, could be distinguished. Her hand came up to rest on the doorknob as she contemplated her next move.

It was possible the vampire had simply gone to bed, bored with being home alone. His attention span could be nonexistent when the mood struck him, she knew. Her thoughts flashed to him crying in the bathroom and suddenly the urge to check on him was overwhelming.

Carefully, she cracked the door open just enough to stick her head in. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she was just able to make out the human sized lump on the bed.

Seeing vampires sleep had always been a weird experience for her. They did not breath and, when covered by a blanket, they looked eerily similar to bodies in a morgue.

"Spike?" She called again, stepping further into the room.

The lump did not move.

Buried as he was in a mess of blankets and pillows, the only part of him she could see was one bare foot. The deathly pale appendage peeked out at her and, not sure how else to wake him, she simply tapped his foot.

"Spike, get up. We're ordering din-" A wild snarl cut her off and suddenly she was pinned to the floor.

Glowing yellow eyes stared down at her, a crushing pressure on her throat leaving her unable to breathe, unable to make so much as a whimper.

It seemed to take ages for recognition to bleed through the feral yellow. Slitted pupils dragged over her features, slowly becoming round again. As the yellow began to fade and the face posed a mere three inches from her own became human again, the hand strangling her released its death grip.

Buffy gasped for air, eyes watering even as Spike launched himself backwards to fall in a graceless heap against the bed frame, eyes roving skittishly. His obvious fear did nothing to alleviate her own and she scrambled backwards until her back collided with the corner of the desk, the stack of books overhead tumbling over.

"Buffy I…" Spike said helplessly.

Messaging her throat, Buffy stumbled to her feet. She made for the door, keeping to the wall to maximise her distance from the vampire. The move was just as much for her safety as his own. Already, she could feel the instincts of the Slayer part of her, a whisper in her gut that demanded she destroy the bleach blond demon.

She could not stay in the room a moment longer, fear continuing to pound through her veins. The abruptness of the attack coupled with

"Wait, Buffy wait!" Spike shoved himself upright to his knees. "I didn't-" he started but she cut his off.

"I know," she whispered, disappearing through the door and out into the hall.

She could not stay in the room a moment longer. Deep down, she knew what Spike had not intentionally attacked her but it was a scene she saw too often. The feel of his powerful hands around her throat, strong enough to snap her neck…

Breathing heavily, she leaned against the wall and tried to calm herself.

Trying to wake him like that had been so unbelievably stupid. She was fortunate he had recognized her so quickly, before either one of them could have caused lasting harm to the other.

The attack had happened so quickly though. Even her sight, sharpened by the gift of her birthright, hadn't a hope of tracing his movements. It was the same speed she had seen in Angel and, on a larger scale, the Master himself.

More so than anything else, it worried her that he had managed to subdue her so easily. Was she losing her edge, confident in the notion that no Hellish spawn would ever dare come to her home?

A deeper part of her knew better, knew her slow response had been caused by the simple fact that she could no longer view Spike as just a vampire. That part of her, however, would stay locked away until the day she died.

"Buffy? Are you alright? I heard banging." Joyce called up the stairs and Buffy's reprieve was over.

"Everything's fine," she straightened off the wall and fixed on a neutral look before descending the stairs.

Her mother had just finished calling in the pizza, the phone still in her hand when Buffy entered the kitchen.

"Did you wake up Spike?" she asked.

Torn between outright lying and telling a highly abridged version of the truth, she decided being vague was her best course. "I did but I'm not sure if he's coming down. He doesn't really need to eat again until tomorrow and he looked pretty tired."

Joyce frowned but did not press the issue. "Well, I'll leave a plate out for him just in case. Could you set the table?"

Buffy nodded, gathering some cutlery and retreating to the dining room. As she set out two places, she glanced periodically towards the ceiling, trying to hear.

Upstairs was completely silent. Unease flickered through her, unsure whether or not the lack of noise was a good thing.