Chapter Eleven

Buffy woke to a complete and utter absence of light. Disoriented and confused, she was aware only of a need to get out of the dark, airless space in which she found herself. Instinctively, she put her hands up, encountering something unyielding and yet soft. Fear-inspired strength allowed her to punch through the fabric and wood in front of her face—to find herself spitting out dirt that fell into her open mouth. Panic set in. She clawed, punched and dug until she felt one hand emerge into open air. Putting forth a last effort, she pushed her head out of the dirt and pulled herself out to lie gasping on the dew-soaked grass.

She staggered to her feet and stared around. Everything was blurry and indistinct, including the large stone in front of her. She frowned at it, something about the carving upon it seemed familiar but her mind couldn't process what she was seeing well enough to — she froze. It was a name. She squinted at it, rubbing her eyes to no avail. After another minute of confusion, she wandered away from the puzzling monument, her dark dress shedding dirt as she walked through scenes of destruction.

Broken windows, small fires here and there, damaged cars...it was all so bewildering and strange. And hard to see. She squinted from time to time, hoping the blurry vision would clear up soon and she would be able to figure out where she was.

Still struggling to see, she found herself on the outskirts of a group of rough-looking men with distorted faces and strange mannerisms. They were looping chains around the arms and legs of a girl who looked oddly familiar. Just as the motorcycles roared and their tires spun gravel onto the girl they were about to pull apart, Buffy recognized her. Her scream, "No!" was instinctive, as was the way she ran when the entire gang turned to focus their attention on her.

Her leap over the fence dropped her in front of a small group of unfamiliar people who all began talking at her and calling her by a name that barely resonated. She still couldn't see them very well, nor could she understand their muffled voices. She retreated, crouching in upon herself and hoping they would go away. Their voices washed over her as their cries of "Buffy!" were interspersed with discussion of what she was doing there and what had happened to her.

A dark-haired boy stared at her, horror on his face. "... She was right where we left her," he said. "In her coffin..." Buffy's hearing was still as blurry as her eyesight; she wasn't sure what he was saying to her, only that he seemed to expect her to respond somehow. "... You're home," he concluded, only those two bewildering words actually reaching through the fog in her brain. "Home?" What did he mean? What was home?

While she'd been distracted by the strange people all trying to speak to her, the motorcycle riding demons had found them. She remained fearful and immobile until she saw the people who seemed to know her being hurt. Then, without any conscious thought, she stood up and fought, somehow knowing exactly what to do. She faltered once or twice, the actions unfamiliar to her, but each time she recovered quickly and continued to use whatever weapons she could find to decimate her opponents.

As soon as the demons had been defeated, she retreated into the frightened confusion that had been her companion since she'd clawed her way out of what she now understood to have been her grave. She ran away, ignoring the cries from the chattering people she still didn't recognize.

The sight of the rickety metal tower halted her escape to nowhere. Drawn to it in a way she couldn't explain, she approached it cautiously and began to ascend the stairs. She was staring out from the platform on top, flashbacks to events she couldn't understand or explain causing her to squeeze her eyes tightly closed, when a whispered, "Buffy?" caught her attention. Another unfamiliar face was staring at her. A younger girl, one with disbelief and hope in her eyes. "Buffy?" she repeated. "Is it you?"

Buffy looked back at the end of the platform, once again drawn to the end projecting out into space. The platform swayed and the girl grabbed onto a pole. Buffy moved closer to the end. "No!" the girl shouted. "Don't! Just walk to me, Buffy. Please!"

The platform continued to sway, the tower making creaking noises as though in pain. The girl began talking rapidly: "I'm your sister, Dawn. We were up here... together...and then we weren't. You went away... and... " Buffy tuned her out, continuing to stare with fascination at the swaying ground below them. She could feel herself being drawn more and more toward the edge, her progress halted when the other girl pleaded, "Talk to me! Say something!"

"Is this...Hell?" Buffy's voice was rusty with disuse and she repeated her question, hoping this girl could tell her what was going on. "Is this Hell?"

"No!" Dawn began to babble again, doing her best to keep Buffy's focus on her and off the tempting drop. But it wasn't until Dawn screamed at a particularly violent tremor of the tower that Buffy turned with something approaching recognition in her eyes.

"Dawn!" Her instincts once again taking over, she ran to her sister, grabbing her in one arm and a nearby pulley in the other. When they had ridden as far as they could before falling, landed safely on the ground and scrambled away from the collapsing tower, Dawn pulled Buffy into a tight hug. "You're really here," she said. "You're alive and you're home. You're home."

Buffy wondered why those words weren't making her any happier as she submitted to Dawn's embrace and stared over her shoulder with blank eyes.

Later, when Dawn had led her home and helped her to clean up, she began to remember more about who and where she was. But, even while she returned Dawn's tearful hugs, she was conscious of the immense void where there should have been joy. A void that was all the emptier for her not being able to figure out what should be filling it. All she knew was that she felt like she was missing a big part of herself, and that something wonderful had been ripped away from her. Which made no sense at all. She'd been dead. Now she was alive. Shouldn't she feel happier about it?

It was when she came slowly down the stairs to find Spike staring at her with awed eyes that the empty space seemed to shrink just the smallest bit. Although his eyes never looked anywhere but her face, she tried to finish buttoning the open shirt, only to end up hiding her hands behind her back when he noticed them and correctly guessed why they were so torn up.

She allowed him to lead her to the couch and felt herself relax a little when he took her hands in his. His expression remained kind and understanding as he sent Dawn to get the first aid supplies. She stared at his familiar face, wondering why he had remained in Sunnydale. Perhaps she'd been gone only a few days or weeks?

"How...how long was I gone?"

"One hundred and forty-seven days yesterday. Uh... hundred and forty-eight today" He gave her a tentative smile that didn't reach his awed eyes. "'Cept today doesn't count, does it?" He waited for a response, dropping his eyes to her hands, then back up to her face. "How long was it for you...where you were?"

"Longer," she said simply, searching his face for some sign that he might be able to tell her what had happened. Before he could say anything else, her friends burst in calling for Dawn, and Spike was soon pushed aside. She watched the door close behind him, confused by the pang of loss she felt when he left; a departure that shouldn't have mattered when the people who were really important to her were all there making a fuss over her return.

Inexplicably, her first act when she went out to patrol by herself was to let herself into Spike's crypt. She was idly looking at some magazines on an unfamiliar table when he came up the stairs carrying a knife – which he quickly put down.

She knew he was waiting for her to tell him why she was there, but she really had no explanation to give him. Her feet had taken her to his crypt and she hadn't cared enough to question why. She perched uncomfortably on a chair as he struggled to make conversation, ending an apologetic speech with a sorrowful, "Every night I save you."

Her eyes, blank until this point, flew to his, reading the grief and sincerity there. A sliver of understanding slid into her numb mind and she smiled briefly.

"You kept your promise," she echoed his earlier remark.

"I've tried to, love. Done my best for you since... But I should have been quicker, smarter, more... something!" He stood up, becoming more agitated as he thought about what she'd been through. "You never should have had to jump!'

Buffy rose to her feet and waited for him to calm down and stand in front of her.

He sighed. "But you're back now. Came through it like the amazing woman you are... You're back, and I... I can't be sorry about that."

Buffy twitched a little as he voiced what she'd been thinking – that for whatever reason, she did seem to be sorry about it. She shook her head and walked towards the door. Just barely loud enough for him to hear, she whispered, "I'm glad one of us is happy about it."

She left the crypt and began her patrol, only to find Spike catching up to her before she'd gone very far. He made no comment, just fell into step with her, watching with narrowed eyes as she staked two fledglings who had been sure the Slayer was dead and gone.

As the days went on, and Buffy struggled to adjust to the harsh world in which she found herself, she began to understand where she must have been. Only Heaven could have been so right, so warm and safe and totally different from the world to which she'd been returned. It seemed strange that the only times she felt at all comfortable about being back were when she was alone with Spike, but she didn't question why she was so at ease with him, or why she trusted him so much that she shared her thoughts about where she'd been. It just took too much energy to worry about it.

"I think I was in Heaven..." Spike's face reflected shock. In spite of his knowing how dangerous it had been for Willow to have attempted the resurrection, he'd accepted her later explanation that it had been necessary because Buffy had probably been trapped in a hell dimension. That there had been another, more likely, possibility hadn't occurred to him. "They can never know," she whispered as she stepped away from him into the sunlight. She couldn't have said why she was so confident that he wouldn't tell her friends; she just knew he wouldn't. She moved quickly away, knowing the sun would prevent him from following her.

As her unhappiness lingered, she found herself spending more and more time with the vampire. The tentative trust and friendship they'd been forming just before she died was still there; and knowing that he'd had nothing to do with bringing her back made him her companion of choice most days. They patrolled together, attended Scooby meetings, and often finished the night by sitting in the kitchen of her house or in front of the TV in his crypt. When her friends commented on how much time she was spending with Spike rather than with them, she stopped inviting him to come home with her and began spending even more time at his crypt.

She did her best to ignore the way he looked at her, telling herself they were just friends, patrol buddies who liked each other and who got along most of the time; that she didn't have to pretend with him, and that was why she was spending so much time in his presence. The occasional bizarre dream, from which she woke up expecting to find a Spike she almost didn't recognize sleeping next to her, she attributed to the weirdness that was her life after death.

The sadness that pervaded her life in a way that nothing else – even her mother's death – ever had was only slightly relieved by his constant presence. That Spike was the only one she trusted enough to confide in was an irony not lost on Buffy as she went through her nights mechanically staking whatever other vampires crossed her path. It occurred to her one night, as she struggled to stake a stronger than normal fledgling, that without Spike's unasked for backup, she might very well have fallen victim to any one of the smarter or stronger vamps she'd faced since her return. It was a fate that was often more tempting than she would admit to him...or to herself.

As she coughed out the dust and stood up, she voiced her thanks.

"Good thing you carry a stake now, isn't it?"

"So it seems. Bit off your game tonight, are you, Slayer?"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired... or bored. Nothing to worry about."

She shrugged off the danger, confident in his ability and desire to keep her safe. If she sometimes noticed the concern on his face whenever she faltered or took a misstep, she ignored it in favor of accusing him of stalking her.

And then Sweet came to town.

Nothing here is real

Nothing here is right...

...I just want to feel...alive...

Buffy was grateful that the only ones to hear her were quickly disposed of before they could tell anyone. Not that she thought a couple of vampires and a demon would have run to her friends to tell them the Slayer was unhappy, but...

She'd thought Spike might have been immune, but she hadn't been in his crypt long before he was singing about the secrets he was keeping for her. As he really got into the song, she realized that listening to him meant she could no longer pretend that they were just friends.

I can lay my body down, but I can't find my sweet release.

Let me rest in peace, he chorused, following her out of his crypt, expressing the feelings she'd been denying he could have.

"I know, I should go,

but I follow you like a man possessed.

There's a traitor here beneath my breast,

And it hurts me more than you've ever guessed...

If my heart could beat, it would break my chest,

But I can see you're unimpressed...

Why don't you let me rest in peace?

And she felt...something. Something she shouldn't have. So she ran away, his plaintive, "So, you're not staying, then?" ringing in her ears.

Till they pulled me out of Heaven. I think I was in Heaven...

When she sang out her secret, she almost smiled at the horror visible on the faces of the people who'd yanked her back into this nightmare existence. A sense of relief washed over her. Now I can stop pretending, stop acting grateful – okay, I haven't been very good at that anyway, but... She danced, whirling and stamping in a frenzy of release and guilt. When the heat began curling up from her feet, she again almost felt something. A sense of completion, that she could now leave this world again. Her friends would understand now.

But then Spike was there. Stopping her before she could burn, singing, "You have to go on living..." and holding her with eyes that said more than she wanted to know.

She had to admit that the demon's final number was impressive. And that he was a good loser. While everyone was singing the finale, Buffy followed Spike out into the alley.

The desperate, lip-bashing kisses they shared were a revelation. She could feel! With Spike's lips on hers, the world faded away and she was alive again. It was not even close to the sense of contentment and happiness she'd lost —but it was more than she'd had since crawling from her grave. She clung to his arms and lips until they heard the others leaving the Bronze, then pulled away and turned her back on him.

"Buffy..." he started, then stopped and blew out an angry breath before walking away, his boots echoing off the walls of the alley.

Chapter Twelve

"You've been avoiding me."

"No, I haven't. We just haven't been in the same places at the same time very much."

"Not for lack of trying on my part, pet."

"Maybe you shouldn't be trying so hard. Didn't you say you wanted me to stay away from you?"

"Didn't really mean that, and you bloody well know it." He gave her sidelong glance, his lashes almost hiding his eyes so that she couldn't really see the expression in them. "Especially now that we—"

"Don't say it!"

There was no ambiguity in Buffy's voice and he stopped with a low growl. She sighed and leaned against a nearby bench. "I think you did, Spike. You meant it when you said – sang – that being with me was hurting you." She raised her eyes to his. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't know why I don't – or why I want to be around you, for that matter. But I don't. And I am. We're not the friends or slaying buddies I keep telling myself we are. It's time for me to stop pretending."

"I take what I can get, Buffy. Told you that a long time ago. If this is my crumb, I'll take it. If it gets so bad I can't handle it... well, that bike will get me a good distance from here before it runs out of gas."

"I can't be what you want, Spike. And the more we're around each other—"

"I'm a big boy, pet. Let me decide what I do and don't want, yeah?"

Buffy didn't reply, just stared at his familiar face and wondered when it went from being the face of her enemy to that of someone she felt drawn to. Sure, she had begun to trust him before she jumped, and nothing she'd heard about his actions over the summer had done anything to make her question that trust. But he'd been just another fighter at her side. Someone strong enough to take up the slack if she wasn't around. Since she'd come back, somehow being with Spike made her feel slightly less alone in this harsh world. It was unsettling... and annoying.

His head was cocked; she could see him trying to figure out her thoughts. For once, he seemed to have no clue. She stood up to leave, holding up a hand when he made to go with her.

"Just leave me alone to work this out, Spike."

"I should have known, starting the night off by saving his stupid life again... It had to go downhill from there." Muttering to herself about how often she and Spike seemed to rescue each other, she walked past the cemetery where they'd had the encounter with Spike's bookie, and right into Giles' stammering explanation for why he had to leave. She was so bewildered and shocked that it barely registered at first that he was saying he was leaving her... and soon.

"I have to."

"Uh-huh," she muttered as she sank onto a pile of mats. She leapt to her feet again when he continued, "You...you have to be strong. "I'm...I'm trying to—"

"Trying to what? Desert me? Abandon me? Leave me alone when I really need somebody?" Leave me with no one to lean on but a vampire who thinks he's in love with me?

Her pleas and barely suppressed tears had no effect on his decision and the conversation ended with her emphatic "You're wrong!" as she stomped out the door and into the shop. Where things just became more confusing...

Spike burst through the door just as Giles was about to break the news of his latest departure to the group. Buffy rolled her eyes when he explained why he was dressed so oddly and looked to her for confirmation; although she was grateful for the distraction.

Her plan to pretend the desperate kisses they'd shared had never happened lasted only as long as it took for Willow to work another spell. And how weird was it that when they had no memories, she and Spike still ended up going out together to fight the vampires?

Randy and Joan had seemed to be on the verge of something that felt both exciting and comfortable. Sure, it was annoying not to know who they really were, but they'd fought well together and the attraction between them was real. She felt like she could do worse than let this strangely dressed, but sweet and sexy vampire-hero into her life. Until the spell was broken, and she was staring at Spike – the non-hero vampire who loved her.

She told herself it was only residual spell influence that had her clinging to him under the stairs at the Bronze, falling into kisses that were both familiar and breathtakingly exciting and new. She pulled away briefly, then tightened her grip on his neck and lost herself again. It was only when someone bumped into Spike, pushing them against the wall and muttering, "Get a room," that she realized how long they'd been standing there, bodies straining against one another and mouths constantly in motion.

"Oh my God!" Buffy said, pushing him away and trying not to see the bulge that she had been rubbing against while she was clinging to his neck.

"Buffy—"

"Don't! Just...don't, Spike. Please? I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

Avoiding his eyes, she edged out of the shadows and pushed her way through the crowd. She ran as soon as she got out the door, not sure if he would try to follow her, but determined not to be alone with him again.

When she looked back on it, the sex seemed inevitable. She couldn't deny the attraction that had always been between them. As much as she might do so to Spike's face, she knew he was telling the truth when he said there had always been something there. That she would act on that attraction seemed only more evidence that Buffy had been found unworthy of remaining in Heaven. The Chosen One had once again given her body to a vampire – this time one with no soul.

If she'd needed more proof, the fact that his chip didn't recognize her as human would have been it. He'd been cruel enough to call her on the way she'd been enjoying the fight as much as he was, which only contributed to her certainty that not only had Heaven rejected her, she hadn't even been sent back whole. Suddenly giving in to the desire for his kisses and the need to feel again didn't seem like such a bad idea.

As much as she wanted to do so, there was no way to accuse him of taking advantage of her. The hand on his zipper was hers, the hand that pulled her skirt and panties out of the way was hers, and the hand that guided him into her was also hers. Spike's only participation at first had been to stare at her with mingled awe and shock. Her own amazement at both her boldness and the strange-familiar-wrong-right sensation of having him inside her mirrored the expression on his.

Spike recovered from his shock as soon as their bodies began to move and he quickly took the lead from her. In the dusty basement where their vigorous activities sent them, he showed her what over one hundred years of experience, a vampire's strength and stamina, and the lack of a need for air could do for a man's ability to make the painful world disappear – at least for a few hours.

"Spike!" Buffy cried out – not for the first time that night – writhing beneath him as he encouraged her to let herself go. Oh my God. Oh my God.

"That's it, love. Tell me what you want from me. Do you like this? Or would you prefer me to..."

"Oh, oh God... Yes!"

"Yes, what, love?"

"Yes...please..."

Don't spoil this. Please don't spoil this by—"

"Oh bloody... Buffy..." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "What you do to me...

Knew you'd be wonderful, but this is..."

"Shut up, Spike."

"Make me."

The bright light of morning brought the world back with a vengeance. Waking up naked next to Spike in what little was left of the building sent her gasping and scrambling for her clothes. His pleas to stay and keep him company all day had less effect upon her than his insistent kisses that immediately reawakened the heat of the night before. Only when he opened his mouth: "I knew the only thing better than killing a slayer would be—" did she come back to her senses and remember whose naked body she'd been clinging to.

Anger at Spike, anger at herself, and guilt over having been out all night combined to sharpen her tongue and it wasn't long before they were snarling at each other as though the night's couplings had never taken place. Her "never again!" as she raced from the building kept repeating over and over as she ran home.

Never was not in Spike's vocabulary, and once she'd come to him – even if she had been invisible at the time – he'd known he had her. Even his anger at her for toying with him while he tried to hide her presence from Harris was tempered by the pleasure of hearing her giggle and knowing she was relaxed and enjoying herself. Until the interruption, they'd been indulging in the sort of playful, passionate love-making he'd always imagined sharing with her.

"Got to say, love, invisible Buffy is a bloody good shag." They were sprawled across his bed, her invisible head resting on his stomach and his fingers running through her invisible, but silky, hair.

She snorted and poked him in the ribs. "Are you saying I'm not any good when I am visible?" He could hear the pout in her voice, even if he couldn't see it. He slipped his hand from her head to her face and ran his thumb over her lower lip.

"Can see that pout, pet. And you know it's not what I meant. I just meant that this is nice. You and me... spending the afternoon making— shagging in my bed. Might get out of this without any bruises."

"I didn't give you bruises when I threw you against the wall?" She sounded almost aggrieved, and his chuckle bounced her head up and down.

"Wasn't countin' those. I just meant I didn't have to hit you – you didn't have to hit me – to get the juices flowing. You know I'd never object to a bit of rough and tumble with you... but this is nice too."

"It is nice, isn't it?" she sighed, turning her head to move her lips over his stomach.

"Even nicer now," he purred, squirming as she teased him by dropping kisses everywhere except where he wanted them. They'd quickly moved from caresses and kisses to another round of what Spike continued to call love-making – although only to himself – and were enjoying the way their bodies pleased each other so perfectly when Xander's arrival put a stop to both the sex and the pleasant afternoon.

In spite of Buffy's "cheating" when Spike tried to tell her he didn't want her if she wasn't going to admit they were together, he couldn't forget how it was her very invisibility that had made her so free and easy with him that day. Hoping he wasn't shooting himself in the foot, he managed to resist her enticements and insist that she leave.

"Want some help, Slayer?"

Spike watched with worried eyes as Buffy spun and kicked in what looked like an uneven fight against three much larger vampires and two demons. She rolled her eyes at him as she took a hard punch to her face and fell to the ground.

"If you're not too busy," she snapped, kipping to her feet in time to stake the first vampire to reach her.

"Never too busy to help a lady."

Spike grabbed the nearest opponent, using the demon's body to take out both his frustration over not having seen Buffy in a week, and his anger at himself for sending her away. He listened to the sounds of the conflict behind him, keeping one ear cocked in case Buffy seemed to be in real trouble. However, with his arrival and subsequent distraction, she had quickly staked the remaining two vamps and was now systematically beating the other demon into the ground. Lacking a sword, she settled for picking up a tombstone and smashing it down onto the demon's head until she was sure it was dead. Spike quickly broke the neck of the one he was fighting and they stood, panting, staring at each other.

"So..."

"So..."

Simultaneously, they leapt together, Buffy's mouth on his demanding and hungry. He pulled her against his hard cock, muttering his apologies and begging her to give him another chance. She didn't answer in words, just wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed herself against him until they were both moaning with frustration and desire.

"My place?"

She nodded mutely, dropping her legs and letting him take her hand to pull her into a run.

They soon settled into a pattern of almost daily sexual encounters. Sometimes Buffy came to his crypt in the daytime; sometimes he was waiting outside for her to take her break at the Doublemeat Palace; sometimes they finished a night of patrolling and slaying by tearing each other's clothes off the instant the heavy crypt doors closed behind them. No matter where or when, the world and all its burdens went away for those moments when she could get lost in his touch.

"I smell like Doublemeat burgers," she whispered as he pushed her up against the wall outside the restaurant.

"You smell like Buffy," he insisted, inhaling deeply against her neck as his hips moved against her.

"Buffy smells like the Doublemeat Palace," she argued back, bringing one leg up to wrap around his waist.

"Fine, suit yourself," he said, pausing for a second or two. "You smell bad, and I want you anyway. Happy now?"

"I smell bad?" Her voice was suddenly icey. "You're dead, and you're telling me I smell bad?"

Their hips never stopped moving against each other, even as they exchanged angry glares and angrier words. When he'd brought her off and emptied himself into her, she pushed him away, hiding her face as she straightened her clothing. Spike said nothing, just zipped up and turned to go. He paused just before stepping into the light, turning his head to look at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy turned away, her shoulders pulled forward tightly and her hands clenched around her arms.

The nights when she used him like he had no more feelings than the bot were hard on both of them. Spike, because he wanted so badly to believe that they were making love; and Buffy because she knew that she was using and hurting him. The very things she'd told him she didn't want to do.

On a few, very rare, nights, however, she was a different girl. One who was soft and giving, and willing to receive his caresses and hear his endearments without telling him to shut up. Those were the nights he cherished, when she seemed to forget that he was a soulless vampire and treated him like the man he wanted to be for her.

"If I didn't know better, I might think you were starting to like me..."

"Don't let it go to your head. I'll get over it by tomorrow."

He sighed and pulled her against his chest. "I expect you will at that, love. But you can't blame me for enjoyin' it while I can."

Spike's constant nagging for her to spend the night was becoming harder to refuse, as dozing off next to him and waking up with his arms around her became more common and less horrifying. Although she usually did her best to keep her distance whenever they finally broke apart for much needed rest, somehow just knowing the vampire was sleeping beside her made her feel warm and safe even when they weren't touching. There was something so familiar, so comfortable about his presence...

"That feels nice," she murmured as he rubbed the back of her neck with an ice cube.

"Is the headache going away, love?"

"Mmmm-hmmm." Buffy yawned and allowed him to spoon her body as her eyes drifted shut.

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Let those pretty eyes have a rest, yeah?"

"Jus' for a few minutes..." She relaxed completely, safely held by the creature she continued to believe was beneath her.

Although she threw his love back in his face every time he tried to express it, she knew she was becoming addicted. Not only to the amazing physical things he could do to her body, but to his very presence, his acceptance of her and her moods, the way he was always there, backing her up if she needed it, but never getting in the way. More frightening than any demon she'd ever faced was the knowledge that Spike had become the person she most depended upon. The man who was gradually bringing her back to life, chasing away the numbness and adding color to her gray world, was a soulless, evil, dead man.

"You know, Buffy," he murmured in her ear very early one morning, repeating an argument that had become a daily occurrence. "If you just told the Bit about us, you wouldn't have to go running off before dawn every morning."

"Don't," she said shortly, unwilling to admit how reluctant she actually was to leave the only place she felt remotely content or happy. How hard it was to force herself to get up, dress and go home.

He sighed and flopped back on the bed, hands behind his head, biceps and torso on display.

"She won't care, pet. I promise you."

She whirled on him, eyes wide. "How do you know? Have you told her anything?"

"Relax, Slayer," he said, his face shutting down. "I know my place – and it's not being the one to say that you come to me for some cold comfort."

When she didn't attack him, but just nodded and began to dress, he turned his back and put a pillow over his head.

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out," he growled under his breath.

"Where do you go? When you stay out all night? Where are you?"

"What?" Buffy stared at Dawn, her mind whirling as she confronted the question she least wanted to answer.

"Are you with Spike? Is that why you don't come home?"

Okay. That was the question she least wanted to answer.

"Some... sometimes? I mean, he is a creature of the night, and I'm... you know, it's night when I go out to slay and—"

"Sheesh! Chill. I don't care, Buffy. I just want to know." Dawn's voice softened. "I worry about you. I can't help it – you were dead. Remember?" Ignoring Buffy's soft "No, I don't remember," she went on, her voice rising again, "Every time you aren't home when I go to bed, I worry. I wake up a dozen times during the night, and you're not here. What do you expect me to think?" She glared at Buffy, then her eyes went wide. "And, ohmygod, I sound like Mom."

'I'm... I'm sorry, Dawnie. Really, I am. But I'm safe out there. And... and sometimes Spike's with me, so then there are two of us, and..."

"And Spike would dust before he let anything happen to you. You think I don't know that? You think I don't know why he stayed around here and took care of me while you were gone? But if he's always with you, why can't he be with you here?"

"Why would you want that?" Buffy frowned, genuinely confused for a second. "And I didn't say he was always with me!" She remembered what Xander had let slip about Spike's summer-long devotion to Dawn and shook her head, at a loss to add anything that wouldn't give away more than she wanted.

"Because he's my friend?" Dawn's voice dripped sarcasm as only a teenager's can. "Or he was. Before you came back and he stopped coming around. I guess he doesn't care about seeing me anymore -– now that you're back in his life."

"I'm not... it's not like that..." Buffy blew out her breath. "Look. I'm sorry he isn't here every night tucking you in and reading you bedtime stories, but we... I just..." She stopped and glared. "You know what? It's none of your business why he isn't here. Or why I don't come home. All you need to know is that I'm safe." She watched her sister's face shut down and added, "And that Spike still cares about you. He just doesn't come around as much because... because..."

"Because Xander and Willow think he's still got the hots for you and they'd bitch about it. Do you think I'm stupid, Buffy?"

"No. Obviously you aren't stupid. And, yes, that's got a lot to do with it. I don't want to deal with their... I just don't want to deal with it, okay? I'll talk to him. Maybe you can... I don't know. We'll work something out." She stared at Dawn's rigid shoulders. "He misses you, Dawnie. I know he does."

"Yeah? Well he's got a funny way of showing it," Dawn muttered, refusing to admit she was mollified by Buffy's words.

"Hey. It's Spike. Doing things wrong is his middle name." Buffy's attempt at humor brought a small smile to Dawns lips. "We're not trying to shut you out, Dawn. We... I just don't want to listen to stupid accusations and... stupid... stupid things."

"If you're... like...with him, with him—" Dawn threw up her hand as Buffy leaped to her feet. "I'm not saying you are, I'm just saying, if you did want to... I wouldn't care if he stayed with you. In your room."

"That is never going to happen. And this conversation is over."

Buffy almost ran from the house, only returning when she had to change into her Doublemeat Palace uniform. But that night, she was home and in her own bed by midnight. As she was for the next several nights. She refused to explain to Spike, knowing he would just start the "You should just tell everyone" argument all over again.

Riley's arrival, his perfect new wife, and Buffy's own mistake in killing the female demon all conspired to send her spiraling back down into the place where only one person could make things better. Asking Spike to tell her he loved her – when she knew he did, and wanted only to be allowed to say it – felt like one of the cruelest things she'd ever done to him.

His "In point of fact—" was cut off when she fastened her lips on his, silently begging for the release only he could provide. It was one of the rare instances when she allowed him to make love to her the way he wanted to – sweetly, slowly and with murmured endearments that she usually refused to acknowledge.

"Something's different, love," he said, stroking her bare arm as they rested quietly. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not really." She turned her head away, but remained within touching distance.

Spike nodded, grateful for the physical closeness, even if she was no longer letting him into her life in other ways. As she rolled over to sleep, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Buffy," before settling down on his own side of the big stone slab. There was no reply, but she allowed him to leave his leg touching hers as they drifted off.

The following day, guilt and shame overcame her craving for his body and the temporary oblivion that it could provide. Her farewell conversation with Riley had reminded her of the person she used to be, the person she would like to be again – the woman who was strong enough not to abuse another's feelings for her just because it helped her feel better.

"I'm sorry, William."

Without so much as a "thank you" for what his love had done to help her become strong enough to reject it, she turned her back and walked out to begin a new life in which her biggest problem was locating Warren and his two nerdy buddies.

The demon guarding their house was a surprise. As was the immediate weakness she felt after being stabbed.

Chapter Thirteen

"Buffy? Buffy, can you understand me?"

Buffy looked around wildly, automatically holding up her fists to respond to another attack from the demon. The adrenaline pumping through her system prevented her from recognizing her surroundings at first, then, as she felt the pain in her arm, she tried to find the demon's skewer so she could pull it out. To her surprise, there was an IV in her arm, rather than the demon weapon she'd expected.

She had barely begun to understand where she was, when she was no longer there, finding herself sitting on a bench and talking to Spike about Xander's non-wedding. Somehow, their awkward – but unusually honest – conversation there had eliminated some of the tension between them, and she was tentatively feeling comfortable around him again. Comfortable enough to sit and talk to him about what had happened after he left the wedding.

She shook her head to rid it of the flashback-dream-hallucination that had come and gone so quickly.

The Scoobies arrived just as she began to feel woozy again, putting an end to the conversation. While Spike and Xander sniped at each other, she felt the world begin to swim around her. When Xander shoved Spike to the ground, her last thought as she dropped her head onto her knees was Something else that's my fault. I think they were getting along while I was dead.

Buffy blinked her eyes and looked around, taking in the sterile white walls, the loose uniforms on the muscular men standing by and the worried look on the face of..."Dr Swinson?"

With an audible sigh of relief, the older woman straightened up and waved the attendants back.

"It's working," she said. "I think she'll be fine now."

They looked dubious, but nodded. "Just push the button if you need us," the taller one said.

"It'll be okay. Won't it, Buffy?"

Buffy blinked again and repeated, "Dr Swinson? Am I really here?"

"You are. You gave us quite a scare for a while there, but it looks like the drug has done its job."

Buffy plucked at the needle in her arm. "Can we take it out, then? It kind of hurts. And not in a good way."

"There's a good way to hurt?"

Sheer panic flew across Buffy's face as she realized what she'd said. "No! Of course not. I was just... just making a joke. Not a funny one, I guess."

The doctor stared at her hard, studying her face and eyes before nodding.

"I think we'll just leave it in for a while longer," she said. "Until we're sure we have you back completely."

Wincing, Buffy sat up in the bed and nodded with resignation. "Okay. I guess that's..." Her eyes widened. "How long was I gone this time?" Although her time in Sunnydale had only amounted to months, she braced herself for being told that she'd lost another five or six years of her life.

"Several months," Dr Swinson said. "You've missed the beginning of the spring semester of classes. I believe your employer is holding your job for you, although—"

"Will! Where's Will?" Her eyes flew to her bare left hand. "Is he still..."

"Madly in love with you?" The doctor gave her a wry smile. "I think you could safely say so. He's often here. He sits and talks to you, strokes your hand. I'm quite impressed, actually. I think most young men would have written you off by now."

"My parents..." Buffy looked around, noting that this sterile room bore little resemblance to the one she'd had before her release the last time.

Before the doctor could respond, Buffy felt herself slipping away.

She gave a strangled cry and glanced up to find Willow and Dawn hovering anxiously.

"Buffy? Are you okay? You keep losing consciousness on us. One minute you're here, then you're... gone... somewhere."

"Where do you go?" Dawn demanded. "When you're not here, where do you go?"

"B... back," Buffy whispered, her voice filled with pain. "I go back." She closed her eyes, but when she opened them again she was still in her own room in the house on Revello Drive, and Willow and Dawn were still staring at her. "What happened?" she asked, dropping her head back against the pillow.

"Do you remember being stabbed by the Nerds' demon?" They frowned at her when Buffy laughed softly and shook her head.

"I thought someone put an IV in my arm," she said, tears beginning to stream down her face. "I was in a mental hospital and this was all just a bad dream." She winced when she saw Dawn's face crumple. "I'm sorry, Dawnie. But there – in that place – this just seems... unreal."

"Well, it's real. Trust me," Willow said, her resolve face to the fore. "You got stabbed by that demon. Turns out there's a toxin in its skewer that causes hallucinations and fever. Spike and Xander are out looking for it now. As soon as they bring it in, I can break off the skewer and start making the antidote."

"And in the meantime?"

"We'll just try to keep you comfortable and safe, I guess." Willow's brow knit. "I'm not sure quite what to do when you go...away...on us. But you just sort of lie there with your eyes open, so I guess it's not hurting you."

Buffy gave another sad little laugh. "No," she said, "it's not hurting me."

She awoke to find her mother's face drifting in and out of her vision.

"Mom? Mom? You're here? You're alive?" Buffy began to cry as her mother lay down beside her on the bed and held her.

"I'm here, honey. I'll always be here." Joyce was crying too, her tears mingling with Buffy's as she promised her they would move heaven and earth to see that she stayed with them.

Buffy startled awake to find Spike lounging in the doorway. "Back are you?" he said calmly, although his fingers were digging into the woodwork framing the door.

"So it seems," she sighed, shifting and wincing at the pain in her swollen arm. "Did you guys find the demon?"

"Yeah, we got it. Got the bugger chained up in the basement. Seems he has to be alive when Red does her mojo or it might backfire."

The last time Buffy could remember speaking with Spike, it was in the cemetery just before she passed out from the poison. She had a vague memory of hearing him suggest ice on the back of her neck before Xander and Willow had pulled her away and she'd lost consciousness. With newly aware eyes she studied him, comparing him to Will and wondering briefly which one was real and which one had inspired the other.

There was no denying it. For all that one was human and one was an old vampire, they were the same man. The same warm blue eyes with which Will gazed at her so fondly were now looking at her, a worried frown just beginning to appear above them.

"Buffy? Slayer?"

Startled out of her musing, Buffy blurted out, "You know, if you were human, I think I could love you."

Spike gaped at her, his astonishment exceeded only by her own. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean—"

"No!" he growled, crossing the distance from the door with inhuman speed. "You don't get to say something like that and then take it back. What the bloody fuck is going on?"

"I wish I knew," she whispered, unable to stop herself from stroking his face and closing her eyes against the pain she could read there. "I don't know what's real anymore."

"Know that, pet," he said, pressing her palm to his check with a trembling hand. "That's the poison at work. Soon's the witch gets that antidote, you'll be all fixed and you'll know which end is what again."

"What if I don't want to? What if I'd rather stay... gone?"

He stared at her, his fear palpable. "Gone where? Where is this place that you'd rather be than here with your friends, with us?" Memory kicked in. "Are you... are you back in Heaven?"

Buffy shook her head. "Not in the way you mean it, no. But it feels like Heaven. I'm loved and cared for and—"

"You're loved here," he snapped, adding when she flinched, "and I don't mean me. I mean the Bit. Your friends. Your missing watcher. Even the big poof still loves you – just not quite as much as he loves the idea of his redemption, but..." He shook himself. "We all love you, Buffy. How can you feel loved in that world without any of us?"

Buffy looked into his genuinely grief-stricken eyes and whispered, "You're there. And...and Angel is there... sort of." She ignored his muttered, "Sort of?" and continued, "And my mom and dad are there. Together. It's... it's nice, Spike. I have a normal life, a family – minus the green glowing ball of energy that moved in here last year. I have a boyfriend—"

His snarl caught her by surprise.

"Not Angel," she said with a tired sigh. "It's you. Except... not. You're human, and you don't bleach your hair, and you don't mind that I was – am crazy." She could see that she'd lost him at "boyfriend" and "you", and dropped her head back onto the pillow.

"I'm happy there, Spike," she sighed. "I'm normal and happy and I just got engaged when they yanked me back here."

"Why didn't you tell someone – me – all this before?"

"I didn't remember any of it. All I remembered was that I felt safe and warm and loved... and done. I'd done my job and gone to my reward. And then, bam! I went to sleep in the arms of my lover—" She had to pause and gulp when he couldn't hide his wince. "And I woke up in a coffin, under six feet of dirt."

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "No wonder you hate it here. You were in Heaven. Your version of it, anyway. Where I'm not... " He gave a snort of bitter laughter. "... not... me." Buffy cringed at the anguish on his face as he straightened up and stared down at her.

"Hey, evil undead! Get away from her. You've done your part. We got the demon. No more need for vampire muscles, so you can leave now." Xander's voice was mostly serious as he took in the scene in front of him. Buffy and Spike were staring at each other with damp eyes and sad resignation on their faces. Before Xander could ask them what was going on, Willow appeared behind him to say that she thought she was ready to work on the antidote.

Spike leaned in and stroked Buffy's cheek, ignoring Xander's "Hey!" and Willow's gasp.

"You need to tell them, love. Tell them where you were – where you go."

He whirled and brushed past the two people in the doorway, going outside and walking blindly for miles before turning around and heading back to the house.

Chapter Fourteen

"So," Willow kept her voice calm and controlled, "when you go away, it's to the same place you were when you were... gone... before?"

"When I was dead," Buffy said, her eyes half shut as she tried to doze through the pain in her arm. "You can say it – I was dead."

"And in your version of Heaven... where none of us... where I don't exist." Dawn's face was twisted to match her bitter tone.

"Dawnie..." Willow was no happier than Dawn to find that she had no place in Buffy's heaven, although she struggled to make some sense of the bizarre situation.

Ignoring her, Dawn flew out of the room, her voice carrying back to them. "It doesn't matter. I'm not real anyway, am I?" Heedless of the darkness outside, she ran out the back door and straight into Spike's chest.

"Whoa, there, Bit. What's your hurry? You know better than to be out here after dark without one of us." He frowned as he noticed her tears and her trembling chin. "What's wrong, luv?" he said more softly. "Slayer take a turn for the worse?" He fought down his own anxiety, smothering the urge to leave her and rush upstairs.

"What's wrong? Oh nothing – from your point of view, I guess. Buffy put you in her Heaven, you and Angel." Her mouth twisted in distaste. "It's the rest of us who aren't important enough to make the team."

"Oh, Bit." He pulled her into an embrace, holding her until her stiff body relaxed and she sagged against him, sniffling into his chest. He stroked her hair with one hand and tried to come up with a logical explanation. "Maybe she just hadn't got round to you yet when the Scoobies decided to play God. For all you know, you were already a glowing little ball of energy in your mum's womb - one Buffy didn't know about yet."

"Nice try, Spike," she snorted, pushing back from him and rubbing her arm across her face. "Let's face it. Buffy's idea of Heaven doesn't include a bratty kid sister. If she's dead, she doesn't have to worry about me anymore."

"Don't forget how and why she died," he growled, giving her a very light shake. "Buffy loves you. If you aren't in her version of Heaven, there's a bloody good reason for it. She didn't stop loving you just because she was— That's it!"

"What's it?" Willow's voice was as cold, as the look she gave Spike. "What are you doing outside after dark, Dawn? You don't want Buffy to see you hitting on her fiancé, do you?"

Spike's snarl didn't faze Willow at all, although Dawn's "Ewwww!" made her flinch a bit.

"Sorry, Dawnie," she muttered. "I didn't mean that." She turned her eyes to the angry vampire, but no further apology was forthcoming. "What did you mean, 'that's it'?"

"Surprised you haven't figured it out, witch. What with all your mucking around in places you had no business mucking. Raising the dead and whatnot..."

"Figured what out, Spike? Why you and Angel are part of Buffy's Heaven and the rest of us aren't?"

"Got it in one." When Willow just continued to glare at him, her hands twitching as if fighting the urge to shoot fire from her fingertips, he sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "Think about it – what do the poof and I have in common with the Slayer – now?"

"You and Angel? Nothing! You're nothing but a couple of evil, dead..." Willow sank down onto the porch step. "Dead... you're both dead."

"Just like she was. Wouldn't expect to find a lot of the living walking around up there, would you?"

"No. " Willow shook her head. "It makes sense..." She glanced up at Spike, unwilling to let go of her anger and jealousy so easily. "But what would a couple of vampires be doing in Heaven?"

"It's Buffy's Heaven, not ours," Spike bit out. "It's not me living there with her, is it? It's some human git with my face and name."

"But—" Dawn interrupted, "what about Dad? He's not dead."

Spike shrugged. "Maybe not, but he may as well be, as much good as he's been to either of you."

Willow stood up. "I'm going to have to research this, but it's as good an explanation as any." Her expression softened a little. "Come on back in Dawn. I think Spike's probably right. None of us are there because none of us are dead."

"You're welcome," Spike growled as they went back into the house, closing the door behind them.

"Buffy, do you remember how you ended this before? What you did?"

Dr. Swinson sat behind her desk and spoke urgently to the bleary-eyed girl in front of her. In spite of their best efforts, and the judicious use of the anti-psychotic drugs, Buffy continued to go in and out of reality. Whether she needed to be restrained or sedated seemed to depend entirely on what was going on in Sunnydale. Much of the time, she seemed relaxed and, if not happy, at least at ease. But other times, she was clearly fighting something or somebody; at those times, they had to put the restraints back on her to prevent her from injuring herself or someone else.

"I died," she replied numbly. "That's how I did it." She stared at the doctor with suddenly very sane eyes. "But it didn't take, did it? They pulled me back. Willow—nerdy little I-want-to-be-a-witch Willow—resurrected me! How is that even possible?"

"Buffy," the doctor said gently, "it isn't possible. Surely you realize that? Doesn't that tell you something about that world? About its very existence?"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door as Dr. Swinson's secretary poked her head into the room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. But you have another patient due in just a few minutes." She smiled at Buffy. "And Buffy has a visitor."

Without waiting to be told they were finished for the day, Buffy jumped up and ran to the door.

"Will?"

"Hello, love," he said, catching her in his arms as she burst through the doorway. "Did you miss me?"

"Every second you aren't here," she said, clinging to him tightly. She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "Even the seconds I'm not here, I miss you."

"Not enough to give up your vampire for me, it seems." He tried to keep his voice light, but she could hear the pain in it.

While they walked back to her room, she hung onto his hand, willing him to understand.

"He's you," she whispered. "It's like... there... in that place, I have a little bit of you. He's the only thing keeping me sane there. He was the only thing that kept me from..."

Horror filled her eyes as she realized what she'd been about to say. And what the probable result would have been. Before she could wish back her words, she watched Will's face harden as he finished her sentence for her.

"He was the only thing keeping you from dying again, so that you could stay here."

"No! No, it's not like that... when I'm there... I... I don't – didn't – remember this. And it's not like I can just slit my wrists or something... I have duties, obligations, a sister... Oh God, Will, please stop looking at me like that. Please..." Buffy's voice trailed off in sniffles.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. Don't cry," he murmured, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just miss you so bloody..." He cuddled her to his chest and rubbed soothing circles on her back. "It's hard to hear that what's keeping you there might be some version of me. When the real me is here, and he wants you back so very, very much."

"It's not just him," Buffy whispered. "It's everybody. Dawn, Willow, Xander, Tara... they won't let me go. They depend on me too much. And... and they love me."

His arms tightened, but his voice remained calm as he reminded her, "There are people here who depend on you, Buffy. Who love you and want you to have the life you deserve. That other Buffy – she's done enough. Come back to us, love... to me. Come back...

"Hey!" Will's voice broke through the drug-induced stupor Buffy was in and she turned her head to smile at him.

"Hey, yourself," she said, grabbing the hand touching her cheek and kissing it. "I was hoping you'd come by today."

He bit his lip and refrained from reminding her that he'd been there the day before also. Instead, he just settled into the chair beside the bed and leaned in to kiss her dry lips.

"I've got some news for you, pet," he said, handing her a plastic water bottle. "About the outline I turned in to my agent."

"Yeah? So what did he think? Am I going to make you rich and famous?"

"Well, at a minimum, you've earned me a book contract. How rich and famous I'll get is anybody's guess."

Buffy stuck her lip out and tried to sit up, swaying a little as her brain rejected the new position. "Of course you'll be rich and famous! It's an amazing story and you're an awesome writer. How can it not be a best-seller?"

"Think I'd like it a bit more if I knew it was going to have a happy ending," he said, stroking her head. "Don't want to be picking up that Hugo without my wife and muse by my side."

"I'm trying," Buffy said, turning her head and kissing his hand again. "It's not like I don't want to be here with you, I just..."

"I know, pet," he soothed. "I know."

Will's perusal of Buffy's later journals, including the current entries he was making for her, had given him a much greater understanding of the life to which she had returned. In addition to the love she felt for her sister and friends, her sense of duty and obligation came through on every page of the notes she jotted down for him to take home and add to the journal entries already on his computer. Some days he felt as though he was having as much difficulty as she was in telling the difference between what was real and what was only her imagination. The sense he got of her intense need to keep that world and the people in it safe was almost overwhelming.

"What do you mean, she won't drink it? I'll pour the bloody stuff down her throat myself if I have to. Give it here."

"This should be worth watching – I wonder how he's going to do that without frying his brain?"

Tara spoke up softly. "I think it might be all right..." She watched with a small frown as Spike took the mug up the stairs, shaking her head when Xander suggested they supervise. "Leave them alone. Maybe he can talk her into it."

"Why would Spike be able to do it if we can't?"

Tara put a gentle hand on his arm. "It's worth a try, isn't it?" she said, carefully avoiding an answer to his question which she decided to view as more of a complaint than a serious request for information.

"Just drink it, Buffy. It's tearing us up to see you like this – trying to stay in what you think is Heaven when we're all here tryin' to bring you back to yourself."

"I'm happy there, Spike. Or, at least I was when I was sane and having a life that didn't involve large muscular men holding me down while—"

"Don't need to hear your fantasies, pet," he said with a wan attempt at a smile.

"My wha—? Oh. Ewww, Spike! You know what I mean! I'm in a freaking mental hospital, for God's sake."

"Was just a joke, Buffy," he mumbled. "It's hard to hear you say you'd rather be there, restraints and all..."

"I don't want to be there – not in the hospital. I want to go back to my life."

"Oh yeah. The life that doesn't include anybody here."

Buffy closed her eyes and sighed, tired of arguing with him about Will and Sean.

"Just drink it, Buffy," he pleaded, setting the mug of antidote on the nightstand.

"Ooops!" Buffy knocked the cup over, and dropped her head back on the pillow. "I didn't do that on purpose," she muttered, as Spike began swearing and trying to catch some of the spill in the cup. "At least, I don't think so..."

"It's alright, love," he assured her. "I know Red has more of it. We'll just get you another cupful."

Buffy nodded, wondering idly if anyone besides her could hear the difference between the "luvs" that Spike directed so frequently toward women and the "love" that his voice softened into when he was addressing her directly. He sounded just like Will when he called her "love", something she decided was either very reassuring or very disturbing.

Willow had told her about Spike's theory that she could only incorporate dead people into her other world and Buffy agreed that, with the exception of her father, it did seem a logical explanation for the absence of anyone else she cared about.

"Maybe we should just kill somebody – somebody important, but not too important – and see what happens?"

"I hope you're joking," Buffy had said, rolling her eyes.

"Of course I'm joking! What do you think I am?"

Somebody with some pretty shaky boundaries. Buffy kept her opinion to herself, just shutting her eyes and hoping to be taken away again.

Chapter Fifteen

"I wish you'd just tell the bloody Scoobies about us," Spike grumbled from the chair beside the bed. "Getting damn tired of Harris' whinging that I'm getting above myself, and acting like I shouldn't be trusted in your bedroom."

"As far as he knows, you probably shouldn't be. It's not like he has any reason to think I'd be okay with you here if I wasn't going crazy every few minutes."

"My point, exactly, Slayer. If they knew you had some reason to—"

"No." Buffy turned her head to the side. "I'm not going to keep arguing about this. They don't need to know how low I sank."

The chair fell over backwards as Spike leapt to his feet, snarling without restraint.

"When are you going to admit—"

"Hey! Hey, hey there, slightly-less-evil undead boy. No yelling at the sick lady. And no breaking of furniture."

Xander's words were light, but his face was creased with worry. He would have had to be blind not to notice the change in Spike and Buffy 's behavior since she'd been stabbed. Learning that when she went away, it was to apparently the same place she'd been while she was dead and in Heaven, had hit him harder than anyone except Dawn. Particularly the news that, aside from her mother and father, the only people from her real life who showed up in her Heaven were the two vampires he disliked most.

He accepted the explanation that only dead people could be found in Heaven because it meant she wasn't completely choosing her two vampires over her closest friends and family. His disgust with her Heaven was just slightly alleviated by the knowledge that she'd chosen Spike – someone he'd at least become used to having around- over Angel when settling on a boyfriend.

Spike now came and went from the Summers' house with even more confidence than he'd shown over the summer. He acted very much like someone with a perfect right to be at Buffy's side; and Buffy, in spite of the loud arguments they often had, seemed not to see anything strange about it. Only the way she had accepted Spike's frequent presence kept Xander from physically throwing the vampire out of the house. But whatever they were currently arguing about seemed to be more serious than usual, and Xander readied himself to physically remove Spike if it became necessary. Which it didn't.

"Either you do it, or I will," Spike said, pushing past Xander and going down the stairs.

"No, you won't," Buffy yelled after him.

"What does he want you to do? You're sick. Even he ought to be able to see that! Do you want me to keep him out?"

She shook her head. "No. I need... I need for you guys to get along." Buffy carefully ignored his question about what Spike had been demanding of her.

"Buffy, you fight with him all the time. Can't I just tell him to stay away? To give you some peace?"

She shook her head again. "He's just worried, Xan. And he's got a right..." Her voiced trailed off as she came as close as she wanted to admitting there was more to her relationship with Spike than the little glimpses her friends had caught.

"We're all worried. But you don't get into fights with the rest of us."

"No," she whispered. "No fighting with you guys. Just Spike."

"What are you saying?" Buffy's voice was shrill and she shrank into the chair, her eyes darting around the room.

"We've consulted and discussed how things worked the last time and we think this it what it's going to take for you to let go."

"To kill everybody I care about? That's going to make me better?"

"Those ties – the sister you know you don't really have, the friends you made up that are nothing like the people you knew here, and the... the vampire that loves you – they're what's keeping you there. They pull you back because you think they need you. If they didn't exist, there would be nothing to keep you in that world."

A flashback to Spike saying, "your family, the Scoobies, they're keeping you here," sent a shudder through her body.

"So," she said calmly, "if I kill everyone I care about in that world, I can leave it. That's what you're saying?"

Dr Swinson gazed at Buffy's dull, expressionless face and backpedaled quickly.

"I'm not suggesting you kill them yourself, Buffy. I understand how difficult that would be for you. But you could stop protecting them, couldn't you? It sounds like it's a very dangerous place... Sunnydale. Surely you could just stop protecting them and allow one of the monsters to kill them?"

"Spike will be protecting them," Buffy said with a certainty that brought a frown to the doctor's face. "He won't let anything happen to anyone – especially Dawn. He'd dust before he let anything happen to her."

"Ah, yes." The doctor nodded. "The vampire. The one that looks like the man who loves you and is waiting for you to get well so that he can marry you. That one you may have to kill yourself."

"I can't," Buffy whispered. "I couldn't..."

Buffy poured the carefully brewed antidote into the wastebasket. In spite of his earlier threat, Spike had just given her the refilled mug and begged her to drink it. She'd taken a few sips, just to please him, but as soon as he'd left the room, she poured it out, and then lay back to mull over her options.

Willow, Dawn, and Xander – it would be easy to tie them up in the basement and let the demon loose. Not only would the demon probably kill them all, there was a good chance that it would kill her too.

"Bonus," she whispered. "I won't have to stake Spike if I'm already dead."

"I'm going to try it," she said the following morning. "I'll let the demon have them and then..."

"It's going to work, love," Will said with a weak smile. "The doctors are sure of it."

"I'm not going to kill Spike," she responded with more firmness than he'd heard in her voice in months.

"It won't be necessary, sweetheart. When that world vanishes, he'll vanish with it. And I'll be here. Waiting for you."

Will had given up being jealous of the vampire Buffy's imagination had created. When she was awake and aware, she meticulously recorded everything that had happened in her other world while she was there and he took those notes home with him every night. He'd had a brief flare of hope when she broke off her sexual activities with Spike, but it was soon clear that the vampire had remained a part of her life in spite of the end of their physical relationship.

His understanding of her relationship with Spike was more thorough than he allowed Buffy to see; and while the things they had done to and for each other sometimes made him shudder, he could also read between the lines to understand how important Spike was to Buffy and to her ability to cope with her life in that world. Knowing that Spike was a version of him gave him some small comfort when he had to leave the hospital – as he so often did – without having been able to have a conversation with her.

Getting Willow to the basement was easy. Her eagerness to get back into Buffy's good graces overcame her normal aversion to being told what to do. And with the duct tape over her mouth, she'd been helpless to save herself while Buffy tied her up. Xander was no problem once she'd clocked him with the frying pan. Even with her aching arm, Buffy was able to get him downstairs and tied up also. Dawn was the only one who seemed suspicious when Buffy began stalking towards her. Something of her intention must have been visible on Buffy's face as Dawn tried to sprint past her.

Tara's surprise visit almost ruined things, but Buffy was able to trip her before she could work enough spells to defend everyone from the demon, now battling a very out-matched Xander.

The more dead not-real people, the more likely I am to be able to stay away, Buffy told herself as she crouched under the stairs.

"Oh God! Oh God. I'm doing it! I'm actually going to let them die!" Buffy's eyes darted around the room, seeing the familiar faces of her parents, Dr. Swinson and Will, seeking reassurance from them.

"It's for the best, Buffy. Surely you can see that?"

"They're going to die. The people who love me, who depend on me, are going to die and it will be my fault. And the Hellmouth! Who will watch the Hellmouth? Faith is in jail; there won't be a Slayer in the world..."

"Please, love... Don't tear yourself up over this. Let them go."

"I can't... I can't leave them to be torn apart by that... thing. Don't ask me to, Will!"

He squeezed her hand in sympathy, the only one in the room who had a true understanding of how real these people were and how much her calling as the Slayer meant to her.

"We're not asking you for anything you can't do, Buffy. We're just trying to make you better." Her father's voice was quiet, but shook with emotion. "We know you can do this, sweetheart."

"What if it doesn't make her better?" Will suddenly demanded from his place at her bedside. "What if she just stays there and has to live with the guilt? I can't ask her to do that."

Buffy's hand clutched his in relief and gratitude. She kissed his knuckles as he faced the outraged doctor.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dr. Swinson snapped. "Once they're gone, there will be nothing to hold her there. It may take a while to rid herself of all the ties that are binding her to that world – but this is a good start."

"She's not just bound by her ties to those people," Will said softly. "She's the Slayer. The Chosen One. She's responsible for that whole world." The reading he'd done in Buffy's journals had given him an understanding of her world and her place in it that the others didn't – couldn't have. His stomach clenched as it suddenly occurred to him that keeping those journals to himself may not have been in Buffy's best interest.

"Exactly," Dr Swinson said firmly. "And the sooner she lets go of that idea, that she could be responsible for an entire world's safety, the sooner she will be able to realize that this is the real world. Getting rid of these imaginary people is the first big step. Once she has removed them, the world itself will fade away."

"And if it doesn't?" Will asked softly. "If she remains trapped there without her family and friends? Without the people who love her? Knowing that she was responsible for their deaths?"

"I love you," Buffy whispered into his chest.

"I know you do," he murmured back to her, low enough that no one else could hear them. "I've never doubted it. I Iove you too. The idea of leaving you there to suffer without your support system terrifies me."

"I have to go," she said, touching his face gently and gazing at him with bereft but very certain eyes. "I can't let them die."

He nodded. "I wouldn't expect any less of you. Do what you know is right, love. I trust you."

"I love you," she repeated. "Someday..."

"I'll wait for you," he promised, tears in his own eyes. "When it's time, you'll be back and I'll be waiting for you."

"Tell my parents I'm sorry," she whispered, slipping out of his arms and into the loose restraints hanging from the sides of the bed. "I'm just not done yet."

She never heard her mother's wail as Buffy's eyes rolled back in her head and her face went slack. Will fell onto her body, sobbing unashamedly until the doctor gestured for the attendants to pull him away.

Chapter Sixteen

"I almost let them die." Buffy's voice was flat, giving no hint of the guilt gnawing at her. Even so, Spike seemed to know what she was feeling.

"But you didn't. You did what you needed to do to save everyone. You will always do the right thing, Buffy. It's who you are."

"You mean it's what I am."

"No. I mean it's who you are. Slayer or shop girl, you do the right thing because you're Buffy, and that's who she is."

"Stop calling me a shop girl," she said, grateful to him for giving her something to focus on that didn't involve acknowledging his intuitive understanding of the struggle it had been to give up her perfect world. She knew he'd done it to snap her out of her mood.

"It's what you were, yeah? Working in a bookshop. Got to say, though, I pictured you as more the type to work in a shoe store. Course then, I reckon, you'd get yourself fired for spending all your time trying on the merchandise."

"Very funny," she muttered, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Spike leaned back with his own smile, pleased that he'd brought up her mood at least a little.

Buffy flopped onto a bus stop bench and moaned.

"This is ridiculous. We're just running around in circles." She dropped her head against the backrest and closed her eyes. She felt the slight jar as Spike settled beside her.

"I told you to wait until Red could do some more cyber-snooping, pet. When she figures out where they are now..."

"We'll find them and I'll go storming in and kick major nerdy butt. Got it." She rolled her head over to look at him. "But I was getting bored. Weren't you bored?"

"A little, maybe. But there was a Monty Python marathon coming up on BBC America. Wouldn't have been bored then."

"You wouldn't have been bored then. I'd be sitting there wondering what was so funny, and you'd have to be explaining stuff to me all the time."

"I'd be too busy laughing to explain anything. You just have to learn to pay better attention so you can appreciate why I think they're so funny."

"You think the Three Stooges funny," she grumbled. "Pardon me if I don't take your word for how hilarious a bunch of English guys are."

"Come on, pet." Spike stood up and held out his hand. "Let's go find you some undead evil-doers to slay. Maybe you can even behead something."

Buffy laughed and allowed him to pull her to her feet, dropping his hand quickly once she was standing. "You sure know how to sweet talk a girl," she snorted.

"Used to."

Spike's quiet response was a rare reminder that sweet talk was not a part of their current relationship, and Buffy flinched at the reminder of a different time. When she opened her mouth to apologize, he shook his head.

"'s alright, Buffy. Wasn't meaning to complain."

"Spike," she started, wondering if she really meant what she was about to say, "If being around me is too—"

"Isn't. If it was, I'd take myself off somewhere." He slid his eyes sideways. "May do that anyway for a bit," he said with a shrug. "After we nail the wankers that sent that demon after you."

"Is that why you're playing guard dog every night? You think I'm going to get skewered again?"

He shrugged again. "I know it wouldn't have happened if I'd been with you to kill the ugly bastard before he jabbed you. Not gonna let it happen again."

Buffy nodded and began walking towards the nearest cemetery. "You know," she said casually, "if I hadn't been all delusional Buffy, we wouldn't know about... and you wouldn't be going anywhere with me."

"I suppose that's true," he responded after a lengthy silence. "Guess I should be grateful, yeah?"

"Well, not so grateful that you let it happen again," she said, nudging his shoulder playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I dunno, pet. Maybe next time you'll dream that you and me are married and have little fangy babies..." He grinned at her horrified gasp. "Harris really would have something to get his knickers in a twist about then, wouldn't he?"

Buffy gave an exaggerated shudder. "He'd want to stake you for sure... And I don't think I'd like that," she added softly. "I think I'd miss you."

"Nice to know," he replied. "Now, what say we do a little damage, Slayer?" He gestured with his chin to where a small group of vamps had surrounded a new grave, clearly waiting for someone to rise soon.

"You're playing my song," she said, almost with enthusiasm, pulling out her stake and sprinting forward, Spike on her heels, his coat flapping behind him.

In a relatively short time, Buffy had efficiently dusted two vamps and was settling in to fight with a third. Spike had quickly taken a startled fourth vampire out of the mix and was just watching the last one to make sure he didn't jump Buffy from behind.

"Hey!" she yelled as the vamp she was fighting began to sidle away. "We're fighting here! Where do you think you're going?" He began to run, only to be struck in the back by her accurately thrown stake. Buffy walked over to the dust drifting away and kicked at it. "You weren't much fun." She turned and narrowed her eyes at the remaining vampire. "Are you going to be fun?"

The vamp shook his head rapidly, turning to leave but running into Spike's outstretched arm. Buffy quickly took an extra stake from Spike's other hand and buried it in the vamp's back. "Boy, nobody wants to be fun tonight," she said with a mock frown.

Spike grinned at her, grinning even harder when she put her hands on her hips, demanding, "What?"

"Nothing, love. Nothing. It's just... nice... to see you in action again. Bit of the old Buffy Summers coming back. That's all." He put his arm around her and squeezed, letting go before she could tense up and remind him that their new – and still occasionally uneasy– friendship didn't include hugs.

Without the sex to distract them, they had drifted back into the comfortable companionship they'd enjoyed when Buffy first came back from the grave. In spite of acknowledging that Spike was the vampire version of Will, she had steadfastly refused any tentative suggestions that she go back to having sex with him.

"I won't use you like that," she'd insisted. "It wasn't good for either one of us. You're my good friend. I know that, and I... I care about you, but I'm not in love with you. You have to accept that you have the same place in my life as Xander or Giles. Nothing more, nothing less."

If Spike was frustrated about losing the physical relationship, he didn't show it very often. Her willingness to include him in her life and to stand up to her friends when they tried to object to his constant presence more than made up for the lack of sex. Or so he tried to tell himself.

The vamp dangled from Spike's hand, his legs kicking uselessly as Buffy struggled with his companion. Spike's running commentary while Buffy fought with the other vampire was making her grind her teeth. Apparently their newer, friendlier relationship didn't include a lack of annoying nagging from him. Hearing him suggest once again that she tell her friends about them in return for help with the vampire he was holding was the last straw of the evening.

"You tell them if you want. Go ahead."

She dusted the first vamp and stalked over to the stone pillar Spike was sitting on. She was talking the entire time, reminding him that she'd recently tried to kill everyone. "... and you know how much they care? Zero. Zero much." She turned to walk away. "So I'm thinking, sleeping with you? They'll deal."

Spike blinked in surprise, then dropped the vamp he was holding, barely watching as it took off after her.

"Then why won't you sleep with me again?"

Buffy turned, calmly staked the distracted vampire, and continued walking away.

"Because I don't love you."

Spike dropped to the ground and glared after her. "Like hell," he muttered. "You'd love me if I was human. You fuckin' said so." Knowing she was probably out of range for human ears, he shouted after her, "You'd love me if I had a bloody soul!"

In spite of Spike's short-lived anger at her refusal, he still didn't tell anyone about their earlier relationship, and they were soon back to the uneasy friendship Buffy insisted was all they had between them. She blithely ignored his occasional slip into innuendo, pretending she didn't understand him. She was just happy to have him back in her life without the complications that had accompanied their brief physical affair.

"They're up to something," Buffy muttered, stomping her way through another cemetery, but thinking more about the nerd trio than the few fledglings she found. "That camera in my yard... I'll bet it's not the only one."

"Prob'ly not," Spike agreed amiably. "Think I found one in my crypt, actually."

She whirled. "Why didn't you say so? What did you do with it? What do you think they saw?"

"Easy there, pet. Didn't say anything because you've got enough on your mind, and I smashed it to little bitty pieces, so no worries there." He cocked his head at her. "As for what they might have seen... unless I'm missing something and you're meeting another man in my crypt, there hasn't been anything for them to see, has there?"

She sighed at the aggrieved tone of his voice. Although Spike had learned not to mention his unhappiness at the lack of physical contact in what had become an otherwise comfortable and close relationship, every now and then his disappointment still slipped out.

"Well, I don't know that." She shrugged. "I mean, not me, obviously, but maybe you...not that you'd probably care that you were putting on a show, but..." She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. You did bring a date to the wedding. For all I know, you've had a different girl every night..." She stopped when the moon drifted out from behind a cloud and his face became visible again.

"In case you haven't noticed, Slayer, I'm with you every bloody night. The only thing they might have seen in my crypt is me enjoying the company of my left hand."

Buffy wrinkled her nose at him. "TMI, Spike!" She relented when she saw that her casual remark had really hurt him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping closer and putting her hand on his arm. "I was kidding. I know you wouldn't... not that you couldn't if you wanted to, but..."

He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Quit while you're ahead, love." He released her hand, which she pulled away and dropped to her side. "I'm a one-woman man, Buffy. Always have been. An' it doesn't seem to matter if the woman is participating or not."

"I'm sorry," she said again, her words covering more than just current conversation.

"'s alright, love. I'm a patient man."

Buffy's snort of disbelief allowed him to change the tenor of the conversation and pretend to be offended that she didn't think he was the soul of patience. They finished the evening's patrol with less disturbing banter and easy laughter.

"Why is Spike here again?" Xander's glare was only half serious as he nodded his thanks for the beer Spike slid over to him after he sat down.

"He's here because he's one of us," Buffy said firmly. "And because I want him here." She set her chin into a stubborn line that both men knew better than to argue with. Spike couldn't resist shooting a triumphant smirk at Xander before smiling his thanks at Buffy.

"Thanks, pet," he said softly.

"It's true, you know. You are one of us. Just as much as..." She hesitated, casting an apologetic look at Xander. "...as Tara or... Anya."

"Neither of which are here," Xander said, smothering whatever else he was going to say as Willow approached the table. "Hi there," he said, moving over to make room for her. "I thought we might have a few more people here tonight..."

Willow smiled brightly. "We're taking it slow," she explained. "Baby steps." She waved her hand around the darkened nightclub. "This would have been a little bit too much like a... a date."

They all nodded and smiled, not sure if Willow was as happy as she seemed, but willing to pretend. Anya's name was not mentioned. Fortunately, the band soon began playing and it became too loud for easy conversation. Willow and Buffy were tapping their fingers along to the music, casting sideways glances at Xander from time to time. Finally, Willow stood up and grabbed his hand.

"Come on," she said, tugging on him. "Friends don't let friends sit still when they really want to dance." She pulled him onto the floor, leaving Buffy to stare at Spike speculatively.

"Oh no you don't! Don't even think about it. You can just wait till Harris comes back if you want to trip the light fantastic."

"Coward," she said with a pout.

"Guilty." He took a deep swallow from his bottle then tipped it up to the light. "Oh, look at that. Almost empty. I'll be right back."

With a grin at her narrowed eyes, he got up and wove through the crowd to the bar, taking his time getting a new drink and winding his way back to the table. By that time she had changed places with Willow and was keeping a thirsty-looking Xander busy on the dance floor. Spike sat down and cocked his head at Willow.

"So, you and Glinda... "

"We... we're talking. I have to show her that I've changed – that I don't need to use magic for everyday stuff." She met Spike's raised eyebrow and accusing eyes honestly. "Or for stuff that could... Yeah..." She stopped, then exhaled deeply. "But Buffy's back, you know? And, okay, she wasn't in Hell, so I didn't save her, but... but she's back. She's here and I think she's finally okay with that... so it turned out all right, didn't it?"

"'s alright, Red. You did what you thought you had to do. I get that. I just... I'm not sure any of you really knows exactly how... damaged... Buffy was for a while. Or how happy..." he paused, unable to go on for a second, "or how happy she was there."

"Do you really think it was Heaven? I mean like, with angels—stop growling, you know what kind of angels I mean—and clouds, and stuff like that?"

"I'm not an expert, even if I am dead," Spike said, spinning his beer bottle around on the table. "Not sure what happens after we shuffle off. For all I know, old William went straight to heaven and was waiting there for someone like Buffy to come along. Doesn't matter, does it? Heaven is what you make it, and that was what Buffy made. Was where she was happy."

Buffy and Xander returned to the table, Xander reaching immediately for his warm beer and draining it. He pointed the empty bottle at Spike, saying, "Your turn next, deadboy. I'm all danced out."

Not deigning to answer, Spike just tipped his own beer up and emptied it. "As long as you're going..." he said, nodding towards the bar. Xander shoved his chair back and headed for the bar, muttering under his breath about deadbeat dead men and mooching vampires.

To the eyes of any other patrons, the small group looked very much like two couples on a double date, or four friends enjoying a night out. Buffy smiled to herself as she wondered what the other patrons would think if they knew that sitting at the table were a vampire, a slayer of vampires who had been recently dead and resurrected by the very powerful witch sitting next to the only ordinary human in the group.

Seeing her faint smile, Spike nudged her with his knee. "Penny for you thoughts?"

She shook her head. "I was just thinking how ordinary we probably look to everybody in here."

"And how very unordinary we actually are?"

"Something like that," she said with another small smile, this one just for him.

"Even if we weren't what we are, we wouldn't be ordinary," Spike said as Xander returned with the beers. "You and Red are drop dead gorgeous, I'm spectacularly handsome, and Harris is... " He stopped and frowned.

"You've got two seconds or I take my beer back."

"...good with wood," Spike finished with a grin, snatching the bottle away from him.

Buffy slumped back in her chair, feeling more relaxed and comfortable than she had in a long time. Spike and Xander were bickering, but not with the bitterness that had been so prevalent while she'd been ill, Willow seemed genuinely repentant and determined to earn back Tara's respect, and Buffy felt, if not happy, at least content. Content enough to leave her knee resting against Spike's under the table while the conversation ebbed and flowed around them.

She was slouched back against the couch cushion, bemoaning the fact that she had yet to catch the Trio, as the Scoobies had taken to calling Warren and his two companions-in-annoyance, when Spike draped an arm over her shoulder to squeeze his silent support. Buffy leaned into him, her head resting against his chest in a familiar fashion. Without thinking, Spike dropped a kiss on her head, bringing his other arm around, pulling her closer. For several comfortable minutes they rested together, until Buffy realized what they were doing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pushing herself up and away from his comforting arms.

"Don't be," he replied, dropping the arm that had been holding her close, but leaving the one across her shoulders. "Don't want you to ever be sorry for turning to me – for anything."

"But it's not fair... I'm not stupid, Spike. I know you still want—"

"Shhhh, pet," he soothed, his free hand pushing her hair off her face. "What I want doesn't... I'll always want you. Can't deny it. But this... whatever it is... between us..." He shook his head helplessly. "Can't explain to you what it means to me that you've let me into your life like this. That you trust me enough to lean on me, to let me ease your way..."

Slowly, reluctantly, she sank back into his side, sighed with contentment when his arm went back around her and he pressed his lips to the top of her head again.

"This is nice," she whispered. "I've... I missed you. Not you, you, cause you've been here for me and I appreciate it, but..." She glanced up at him. "It feels good to be held."

"Anytime, pet. Anytime."

Almost too easily, Buffy took Spike at his word and cuddled next to him on those rare occasions when there was no one else around. As promised, he allowed her the comfort of his arms without any suggestion that he was using every ounce of self-control he had to keep himself from asking for more. It was on one of those late nights, when Dawn and Willow were asleep, that Buffy sank onto his shoulder, struggling to keep her eyes open long enough to watch the old movie in which he was so engrossed. She dozed off with her head leaning on his shoulder, and woke to find herself wrapped in his arms, her face pressed against his tee shirt.

Her hand rested against his chest, and her thumb unconsciously began to stroke the muscles under her hand. A familiar rumbling under her cheek tempted her to slide the hand up to the back of his neck to play with the soft hairs there. It wasn't until his lips met hers, that she realized she'd raised her head and tilted her mouth up to meet his. Her sigh at the familiar kiss was all it took for Spike's libido to take over, and he sent his tongue out to gently press its way into her mouth.

Promising herself she would stop soon, Buffy sank into the kisses she'd been missing more than she'd wanted to admit. Spike tasted of tobacco and whiskey, but the lips, if she closed her eyes and blanked her mind, were Will's. In no time her breath was coming harder and she was making small whimpering sounds as she struggled to end the make-out session before it escalated out of her control.

Spike continued to hold her tightly, running his lips down her neck and whispering, "Don't push me away, Buffy. I know you can love me. I know you can. Just let me..."

"No... We can't. I can't... Please, Spike." Buffy struggled feebly, sure that any second he would realize that she meant it. "Don't... don't do this."

"Let me love you... I know you feel it when I'm... Want you so bad, Buffy. I know you want me..."

It was becoming clear that he intended to push until she gave in and admitted that she wanted him. For just the briefest second she considered surrendering to the desire to lose herself in his touch again, to closing her eyes and allowing herself to be back in Will's arms, however temporarily. Her disgust that she would willingly use Spike's body while thinking about another man – this time with full knowledge that she was doing just that – finally overcame her weakness and she reacted with more force than she needed or intended.

"Oh God!" She pushed hard, wrenching herself away and huddling at the other end of the couch. She stared in guilt and horror at the expressions flying across his face.

Pain and disappointment had quickly turned to anger. "It's not a bloody apocalypse, dammit! The world isn't going to end if you admit you want me. Hell, as much time as we spend together, the Scoobies probably think we're shagging anyway."

"I can't, Spike," she whispered. "I don't want to use you that way again. And I can't..."

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I can't love you because you aren't my human boyfriend,' I swear I'll bite you."

"You are him – or he's you – I don't know. I just know that he's not a soulless vampire and you are!"

"He's also not real, Buffy. Or have you forgotten that little bit of data? He's not real. I'm real. And I'm here and I love you. Soul or no soul." He shook his head. "And you love me – if you'd just admit it to yourself. You love me enough to put me into that imaginary world and make me your bloody fiancé!"

"Spike... when I... that world..." She shook her head in frustration at her inability to articulate her thoughts. "It's where I was when I was dead. It was Hea–a place that I... I could love you there. You weren't a formerly evil vampire, a killer of slayers – you were my very sweet and wonderful, human, soul-having boyfriend. But here..."

"Here I'm just the soulless demon who thinks he loves you. I got it, Slayer."

If the bitterness in his voice hadn't told her how he felt, his use of her title rather than her name did. Very rarely did he call her "Slayer" anymore. She was always Buffy. Or, sometimes, "love".

He stood up abruptly and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he looked back over his shoulder, taking in her anguished expression and the reluctant longing in her gaze.

"I'm going to fix this, Buffy. Don't wait up for me."

Chapter Seventeen

It was a couple of days before she realized that she hadn't seen or heard from Spike, and a few more days before the urge to see him overcame her stubborn insistence that, since he'd walked out in a huff, it was up to him to come crawling back to her. The empty and deserted crypt hit her so hard she doubled over in physical pain. After doing a thorough search for his motorcycle and having a talk with an almost sympathetic Clem, she was forced to admit that Spike had left Sunnydale... and her.

The events following her discovery that Spike had left – something she'd been sure he would never do – were so traumatic and followed each other in such rapid succession that she really had no time to dwell on his disappearance until well into summer.

Being shot and watching her best friend try to end the world in a paroxysm of grief put the loss of her latest poor choice of boyfriend into perspective, and Buffy was able to accept that he was gone. If, in the privacy of her own room, she sometimes remembered his last words to her and allowed herself to believe that he wasn't gone forever, she didn't spend a lot of her waking hours worrying about it.

Summer slid into its normal slow rhythms, even slower than usual with both Giles and Willow now in England. Dawn seemed to be growing up, managing not to mention that Buffy had driven away her "best friend' more than once a week or so. Xander was reserved and quiet, still mourning both the loss of Anya and his own incredibly damaging way of breaking off the engagement. He and Buffy spent their free time together for no better reason than that they could mope in peace without having to explain to anyone why they weren't happier.

"So, you and the evil undead, huh?" Xander said one afternoon when they were lying in the shade and drinking lemonade.

Buffy turned her head to meet his cautiously curious gaze. He'd obviously figured it out. She shrugged.

"For a while," she finally admitted. "Didn't last. I was using him – using his feelings for me to help me forget..." She broke off at his guilty wince. "And when I finally was healthy enough to realize what I was doing and be ashamed, I stopped."

"Speaking as someone who shares the same Y chromosome, I'll bet that made him all kinds of happy," Xander said, adding quickly, "Not that I'm saying you should have..." He paused, frowning. "Is that why he left? Because you quit—"

"In a way, I guess," she said, her face falling into familiar sad lines. "But not the way you mean it. You don't understand."

"What? You cut him off, he left town. What's to understand?"

Buffy shook her head and sat up. "No. I 'cut him off', as you so delicately put it, right after Riley was here. We weren't even... whatever we are–were... until after my little crazy episode. And then we were just good friends. We weren't sleep— You know what? This is really none of your business. He loved me, I hurt him, and he left. That's all you need to know."

She stood up and carried her glass into the house, leaving Xander staring after her from his place under the tree.

"You miss him, don't you?" Dawn's question was casual, asked in between mouthfuls of popcorn.

"Sometimes," Buffy answered equally casually.

"Me too. I hope he comes back soon."

Buffy's head whipped toward her sister. "You think he's coming back?"

"Yeah. I think he'll come back." She stared at Buffy. "He promised to protect me till the end of the world, didn't he? How's he gonna do that from Afri—" Dawn quickly stuffed more popcorn into her mouth as Buffy sat up straighter and demanded, "From where? What do you know about where he is?"

With a sigh, Dawn slid a postcard from her pocket and handed it to Buffy. The postmark from Johannesburg and photo of a lion on the front made it clear where it had originated. On the back, in careful, elegant script, it said simply, "I'll be back, Bit. Try to stay out of trouble until I'm there to rescue you. Take care of your sis." It closed with a brief "Love you" and a large "S".

"When did..." Buffy turned the card over and over, as though she could find more information if she just studied it long enough. "What is he doing...?"

"You know as much as I do," Dawn said, tugging on the postcard until Buffy released it. "He just doesn't want us to worry, I guess."

"He doesn't want you to worry," Buffy said bitterly. "Apparently he doesn't care about me."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Dawn snapped, ignoring Buffy's "language!" "I don't know what he's doing over there, but I can just about guarantee it has something to do with you."

The counseling job at the new high school was a surprise. Buffy had been sure that someone with barely three semesters of college and no work experience other than asking "Do you want fries?" would not be hired. However, the attractive new principal seemed unconcerned about her credentials, insisting, after her first adventure in the new building, that the students were obviously taken with her and that her presence at the school could only be an asset. He'd assured her that she should apply for the open position, telling her immediately that she was hired.

Buffy was too worried about having found Spike in the basement that morning to do more than nod and agree to begin work the next day. With the sun shining brightly, even if she'd been able to get him to come with her, she couldn't have taken Spike out of the building. She left him huddled in the basement, muttering to himself. Wherever he'd been and whatever he'd done, it had clearly sent him into his own private world of insanity and pain. Remembering her own venture into insanity, Buffy's heart ached for him, but her presence often seemed to make him worse, so she stayed away as much as she could, hoping he would come to his senses before his craziness caused him to walk out into the sunlight.

The fact that he began venturing out at night – even if was just to act crazy in the outside world – she took as a good sign. Until his accidental slaying of a human disguised as a giant worm sent him into another guilt-fueled rant – one that ended with the smell of burning flesh and Spike draped over a large cross. For precious seconds, Buffy was frozen in place as the shock of what she'd learned kept her from running to him immediately. A soul. He got a soul. Then she snapped out of her daze and tackled him away from the cross, wincing when he cried out as he hit the floor.

"Your soul," she gasped, staring down at his seared face. "You got your soul."

"'s what you wanted, isn't it? Did I do right, Buffy? Is it what you wanted?"

"Your soul," she repeated. "Oh my God, you got your soul." For me. You did this for me.

A quiet moan brought her attention back to him and she berated herself for not thinking of his burned flesh first. She moved off his body and gently tugged him to his feet.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go get some ointment on those burns."

"Hurts, Buffy," he whimpered, clutching his burned chest. "Hurts."

"I know it does, Spike. But we're going to make it better. As soon as we get home and I get some cream on those—"

"Not what hurts," he said, staring at her with reproach. "That's just skin. Here!" He hit himself in the chest. "The spark is what hurts. All those things I did..."

Buffy's moan of realization matched his. No wonder he was crazy! She cupped his face and pressed her forehead to his.

"I know it does," she soothed. "We'll make that better too. I promise."

"Shouldn't lie," he muttered, shuffling after her out the door of the old church.

"He's hurt." Buffy's terse response to the raised eyebrows when she brought Spike's burned body into the house did not invite more questions. She took him through the house and straight into the kitchen, asking Dawn to get the first aid and bring it to her.

Dawn stood behind Buffy, holding the first aid kit and staring at Spike's charred flesh in horror. "What happened to him?

"He decided to take a nap on a cross," Buffy said, pushing him gently onto a stool and reaching for the burn ointment and bandages.

"Oooookay. So, still crazy then?" She frowned as Buffy began smearing ointment over the burns. "Shouldn't you be running cold water over them or ice or something first?"

"Oh God. Of course I should have— I'm sorry, Spike. Come over to the sink, let me—"

Spike put a gentle hand on her arm as she leaped to her feet. "Let it go, Buffy," he said, sounding temporarily sane. "I'll heal. You know I will."

"But..." Her face reflected her fear and confusion. "But I want to help... help you. What you did..." She took a deep breath. "I want to help."

"Blood!" Dawn burst out. "He needs blood to heal."

"Of course he does. Why didn't I think of that? I'm not doing this right. He needs—"

"Forgiveness," Spike whispered. "He needs forgiveness..."

"I forgive you. I already forgave you. You couldn't have known what would happen after you left..."

"Not from you, love. Never from you. Don't deserve it." He shook his head and gestured around the kitchen expansively. "Them. All of them. All those people I... Don't know how Angelus bears it. Should have gone crazy, he should... I can't..." He put his head in his hands and began sobbing. "Can't... can't..."

"Buffy? What is he talking about?" Dawn's voice was barely audible.

"He's talking about his soul." Her own voice trembled. "He got his soul back, and now he's paying for it. He's remembering all the people he killed."

'Why did he do a crazy thing like that?" Dawn moved closer to Spike and leaned over to shout at his bowed head. "What did you do a crazy thing like that for? Are you insane? "

He raised his head and gave her a look that said clearly he was questioning which one of them was not in full control of her faculties. Then he shook his head and dropped it back into his hands.

"Spike, why? Why would you do that to yourself?" There was no response to Dawn's plea until Buffy spoke.

"For me," Buffy said. "He did it for me." She stared at the vampire she'd been so sure she couldn't or shouldn't love; the one who shouldn't have been able to love her. Suddenly her world seemed upside down. "He did this to himself for me," she repeated. She whirled and ran to the door. "Take care of him," she said over her shoulder. "I'm going to go get blood."

"There's some in the freezer," Dawn shouted after her. "I never threw it away."

She stared down at him, shaking her head. "Oh, Spike," she said in a softer voice. "What have you done to yourself?"

Getting Spike to agree to live in the basement so that Buffy could take care of him was harder than she would have expected.

"Could just go back to my crypt, Buffy," he said. He sounded more and more lucid the longer he remained away from the school basement. However he was reluctant to stay in Buffy's house, even though she'd explained it was the logical thing to do.

"Your crypt is still a mess downstairs, and who knows..." She took a deep breath. "Look, this being... crazy. I could be my— Just let me help you. Please? "

"Well, if I'm doing it for you..."

She nodded. "You're doing it for me. And for Dawn. She missed you this summer."

He cocked his head at her, looking more like himself than he had up till then.

"The bit missed me, huh?"

"Quit fishing. I missed you too. You know I did. Don't be an ass about it."

Immediately, souled, subdued Spike was back.

"I'm sorry." He stared at the floor, his shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean to—"

Buffy shook her head. "Just tell me you'll stay here – only until you've got yourself back together and I don't have worry about you. Then you can go live wherever you want."

He nodded his silent agreement; his head was still down, so he missed her visible relief as she left to get him some sheets for the cot.

Not until she'd plunged her stake into Holden's chest – barely even looking at the cocky fledgling vampire as she did it – did the full impact of what he'd said sink in.

Killing. Spike's been killing. All those times he went out without me... I thought he just needed some time away from... but he's killing. Killing and siring more vampires.

Blinking back the tears that weren't going to help, she ran home, determined to find proof one way or the other. The new vampire could have been lying. He'd never mentioned Spike's name until she did... He's probably lying. Just stalling for time hoping he could keep me talking. That's what it is...

Willow's computer search turned up several missing women. The sympathetic, if misguided, information from the bouncer at the club did nothing to relieve the cold lump growing in Buffy' chest. And following Spike's own prowl through the bustling nightlife – a prowl that ended with her losing sight of him, and another girl dead, all combined to convince her that something had gone very wrong. When Spike called to tell her he thought he remembered something, she sighed with relief, knowing he would have a good explanation. The explanation wasn't what she wanted to hear.

As the new vamps Spike had sired held her arms, she watched the vampire she hadn't seen in years sneering and swaggering as he closed in for the kill. Even as she tried to reason with him, telling him he really didn't want to bite her, she felt herself ready to do her job. She had almost pulled her right arm free when the taste of her blood sent him into his human face and scuttling back into a corner. There was no mistaking the shame and horror on his face as he stared at her.

It's like looking at two different people. One minute, he's the old, evil, William the Bloody, and the next he's the cowering, confused vampire who came back with a soul. Something's pulling his strings... and I think I know what it is.

"Yes, he's been killing, and no, I'm not going to stake him for it. He's being controlled by something and he doesn't even remember what he's done."

Buffy took the cup of warmed blood out of the microwave and opened the door to the basement. "Just stay out of the basement if you're afraid of him."

Dawn and Xander stared after her as she disappeared down the stairs.

"Do you think he'll hurt her?"

"No," Dawn replied shortly. "She already told us he was going to and then he snapped out of it."

"When her blood snapped him out if it. Don't forget that part."

"I remember. The point is, as soon as he tasted her blood, he knew who she was and he snapped out of whatever was making him kill. He isn't going to hurt her."

"I hope those chains are strong," Xander muttered as he turned away from closed door.

"Hey. I brought you dinner." Buffy set the mug down beside the cot and tried not to notice how defeated Spike looked.

"Thank you," he said, his voice so low she could barely hear him. "Condemned man's last meal?"

"Spike..." Buffy's voice was tinged with irritation and worry. "I'm not going to stake you. It won't bring back the people you... who died. And it wasn't your fault."

"The people I killed, Buffy. You can say it. I killed them, and if you were any kind of a slayer, you'd stake me for it."

"I'm so tired of having this argument... Could we just go back to fighting over whether or not to tell everybody we got horizontal for a while?"

"You should kill me for that too. Had no right. Was bad enough that I touched you... never should have..."

"Gah! You're making me so mad!"

"Mad enough to stake me?" He looked at her hopefully. Buffy's breath went out in a defeated gust. She came closer and knelt down, putting her hand on his leg.

"No," she said softly. "I will never be that mad at you. Will I do it someday if you give me reason?" She bit her lip. "I suppose I would. If I could send the man I loved to hell, I guess I could... But I don't want to! And I won't do it over something like this. So stop being such a big baby and just drink your dinner."

"Bloody stubborn bint," he muttered, sounding almost like the Spike she remembered. He picked up the cup and eyed it warily, sniffing it and growling when she rolled her eyes.

"It's pig. I know better now." She shuddered as she remembered his reaction to the expired human blood Clem had somehow obtained from the hospital. Her voice softened again. "Just drink it, Spike. I need you to be strong enough to help me."

Without waiting for an answer, she went up the stairs, wondering if he would ever be that strong again. His reluctance to eat, his worry that he might accidentally hurt one of the people in the house, and his abject sorrow for the things he'd done before he got the soul all combined to keep him depressed and unwilling to be released from his chains.

"I believe in you, Spike." No sooner had Buffy spoken and watched the awe and happiness begin to spread over Spike's face, than she was shoved to the floor, unable to see in the dark. Leaving him to fend for himself, she ran upstairs to defend Dawn and Willow against the Bringers that had broken in.

It was much later when she went down to continue her argument with Spike, only to find the chains hanging empty against the wall.

"It was Spike they were after..."

"Buffy." Giles' voice showed his impatience. "I fail to understand why you are so eager to get Spike back. There are so many more important things to do. The girls need training, the new arrivals need to be met as soon as they reach Sunnydale, that creature—"

"You said it was called a Turok-han."

"Yes. Yes, it is. An old term that I had hoped to never have reason to use. The point is, you are facing the most dangerous vampire you have ever come up against, and yet you want to waste time trying to rescue a vampire that, by your own admission, seems to be under the control of the enemy."

"Sometimes,Giles. Sometimes he is. We just need to find the trigger – the thing that makes him go off. If we figure out what it is, we can fix it." She straightened up, wincing from the bruises left by her battle with the Turok-han. "But I'm going to have to go through that... thing... to do it."

"Perhaps easier said than done."

"Yeah, thanks for that vote of confidence, Giles. Don't you have more potentials to go find or something?"

Buffy allowed Willow to put a butterfly bandage on her cheek, but then insisted on leaving to find Spike. To her surprise, Xander gruffly volunteered to drive her to the tree lot. Neither of them mentioned the possibility that there would be nothing left but a little more dust on the floor of the cave.

With a quiet, "Wait here – but don't wait too long. If I'm not back in—"

"We'll be going in after you," he said firmly. "Go on. Find fangless and bring him home."

Buffy gave him a grateful smile as she dropped the rope into the hole. She lowered herself down the shaft, leaving the rope in place, and cautiously picked her way toward the glow she could see far ahead. Although she was fairly confident that there had only been one Turok-han, she knew better than to assume anything and she held herself ready. It was almost anticlimactic when she rounded the corner and the flickering torches showed her Spike hanging from metal rings in the wall.

His sarcastic response to her presence and the knife in her hand was a surprise – until she understood that he didn't think she was real. She remembered what he'd told her about how she had appeared to him in the school basement, mocking him and telling him how worthless he was. With calm understanding, she walked up and began sawing at the ropes holding him up. She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder, and the tremor that went through him as he realized she was really there.

Still without speaking, she released the other hand and, supporting his weight, began to lead him out of the cavern. Her arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, allowing her to feel every bone that protruded to the point they seemed to be pushing their way through his skin. She blinked back useless tears and concentrated on getting him to a safer place, where she could take care of him. It took only a soft "Xander" to bring him to the edge of the hole, peering down and suggesting she wrap the rope around Spike's wasted body. He easily pulled the emaciated vampire up to the surface, and tossed the rope down to Buffy.

Spike's defiant comments to what he'd thought was the First coming to torment him again and his subsequent relief at being rescued appeared to have exhausted what little strength he'd had left. He slumped against Buffy's shoulder, seemingly unconscious until they reached Revello Drive. Xander frowned, but didn't argue when Buffy pointed toward her room. He easily carried Spike up the stairs and into her bedroom, hesitating for just a second when Spike whispered, "Basement", then shaking his head and depositing him on the bed.

"Sorry, man. You're not the boss."

He stepped back and went to leave, pausing when Buffy put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she murmured into his chest.

"No problem." Xander tried for a grin. "I'm just happy to have another testosterone producer around again – one that's, you know, actually manly."

From outside the door, where he'd been watching and listening, Andrew's voice could be heard. "Hey! I'm manly!"

Xander rolled his eyes at Buffy, earning a small smile before he stepped away and put her hand on the door. "Thanks again," she said. "I would have had a hard time getting him home by myself."

Buffy closed the door behind him and stared at the body on the bed. Having had no idea what she was going to find, she'd stocked her room with bandages, splints, painkillers and a cooler full of blood. But, as she studied the exhausted and apparently sleeping vampire, she decided that what he needed most was to be allowed to rest and get used to feeling safe again.

She quickly brushed her teeth and checked her cheek to see that her slayer healing was hard at work, then got into her pajamas and slipped into the bed beside Spike. After making sure that he was covered, she curled herself against him and fell into her own exhausted sleep, one arm wrapped possessively around his torso.

Chapter Eighteen

As soon as Spike had awakened, drunk some of the blood – cold and straight from the bag, uncaring that Buffy was watching him guzzle the life-giving elixir – and had allowed her to tend to his visible wounds, he'd insisted on going back to the basement. She distracted him temporarily by filling him in on the happenings while he'd been gone. He nodded.

"Well, that explains all the extra activity around here," he said. "Was wondering when you'd opened a school for wayward girls."

"Yeah, well. Since they're all in danger from those same creeps that took you, and since it's my job to keep them safe, I guess Giles figured my house was the best place for them." She paused, looking at him with something like shame. "Not that being here did you much good..."

"Not your fault," he said gruffly. "I'm just sorry it used me to raise that monster. Made me crazy for a while, wondering if it..."

"It's a dusty monster now. And it was a good lesson for the girls. Even big, bad, ugly monsters can go poof..." She stood up. "But the best way to keep you from being used like that again—"

"Too much light up here for me," he interrupted, not meeting her gaze. "And all the... distractions..." His gesture encompassed the house and the potentials living in it.

"They don't come in my room," she said stubbornly, hands on hips and glare firmly fixed. "You need care, and this is the best place for it. Besides, the girls train in the basement – they'd be bugging you all the time."

He snorted and shook his head. "Doubt that." He finally looked at her. "They're terrified of me, Buffy. Can hear the way their heartbeats accelerate when they go past the door, can smell the fear on them."

"They'll get over it," she insisted. "They have to get used to vampires."

"Not in their own home, they don't," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "I need to be where I belong, love. In the cellar – not in your bed."

"Is this about that? Being in my bed? Cause, really? I'm so past caring what anybody thinks, and I—"

"Don't belong here, Buffy. You know it, I know it, and they know it. 's not right. Even baby slayers can figure out that much. I appreciate what you've done, love, more than you can imagine, but it's time for me to go back down where I belong."

"Fine. Have it your way. Go sulk in the basement."

He gave her just the barest hint of a flirty smirk. "Didn't say I wouldn't like to have a visitor now and then. Got to be times you'd like to get away from them too."

"Oh, you have no idea!" Buffy broke into a reluctant smile. "Okay, then. Let's get you downstairs and settled in again." Her expression hardened. "But no chains this time. You need to be able to fight."

"No chains," he agreed. "Not unless we need them." The reminder that they still hadn't solved the problem of his trigger was enough to keep them both quiet as they went down the stairs and through the kitchen.

"Ahhhhrghhhh!"

Spike's screams sent Buffy rushing to the stairs to where he was writhing against the wall.

"Is it the chip again? " she asked – unnecessarily, as she could see that he was clutching his head. He was incapable of answering, so she ended up just holding him while he screamed until it stopped. His nose was bleeding and he seemed to be unconscious for several seconds before shuddering and opening bloodshot eyes. It was far and away the worst episode she'd seen since it had begun malfunctioning.

"Are you all right?" Buffy stroked his head, frowning in fear at the way his eyes had sunk into his skull.

"Just peachy," he replied shortly, his breath still erratic. "Wasn't bad at first, but then..."

"Oh God." She peered at him intently. "It's killing you." Without waiting for an answer, she stood up, walked to the hall table and searched the drawer for a number she'd never expected to use.

"That was an extremely foolish thing to have done, Buffy. I cannot tell you how disappointed I am." Giles's face was set into stern lines of displeasure.

"It was a judgment call. I had to decide right then – replace it or remove it, and I acted on instinct. I told you, I don't want him muzzled anymore." She stared at his face and said pleadingly, "It'll be all right, Giles. You've seen him. He's got a soul now."

Although she insisted to herself and to Spike that she had complete confidence in him, she would have liked to know that Giles agreed with her decision to free him from the artificial restraint of the chip. However, his attitude seemed to be the same as when she'd first returned from the Initiative complex, unchipped and still-woozy vampire in tow. Giles continued to argue.

"He's also being controlled by the First Evil. Or have you forgotten the people he killed?"

"I haven't forgotten them," she said shortly. "But I also haven't forgotten that he's the only one here besides me who's got a snowball's chance in hell if the First sends another one of those monsters up here. I can't have him incapacitated at a crucial time by a device he doesn't need anymore. "

Giles shook his head. Although he'd been absent for much of the previous year's events, he had picked up enough about Buffy's temporary retreat into a fantasy world to know that her feelings for the vampire were much deeper than he would have ever expected.

"I believe you are allowing your... affection for an imaginary man to cloud your judgment when it comes to Spike. He is not the idealized boyfriend that you created when you were not in your right mind."

"I don't need this from you. You weren't here. You don't know..." She took a deep breath. "This has nothing to do with... Will..." She stumbled a bit over the name she hadn't said aloud for so long, missing Giles' frown. "It has to do with Spike and what having him watching my back means to my ability to do my job."

"You don't need him," Giles insisted. "You've proven you can—"

"It's done," she said, her exhaustion plain. "Get over it."

From the time Spike's chip was removed, he'd begun to recover some of his swagger; and by the time Buffy unshackled him after the Prokaryote stone fiasco, he was almost back to his pre-souled, smirking self. Knowing she was going to need the Spike who would fight anything, Buffy couldn't help but be glad to see his true nature emerge from the beaten-down, insecure man he'd become since earning his soul back.

"You know," she'd said to him evening, "the fact that you could and would do something like that more than proves that you didn't need to."

"Now you tell me," he growled, flashing his fangs at her in a fruitless attempt to appear seriously angry.

"Don't get me wrong," she went on, tapping him on his wrinkled forehead and smiling. "I'm so proud of you for doing it, and so..." She stopped and took a deep breath. "So very honored that you would do something like that for me... You are an amazing man."

He shook his head. "The only thing I had going for me was falling in love with an amazing woman. She made me want to be a better man."

"Does anybody mind if I interrupt before I barf?" Dawn's sarcastic voice startled them into jumping apart, even though they hadn't been doing anything but talking.

"Good sneaking, Nibblet. Learnt that from me, did you?"

"Among other things..." She giggled as Spike began to frantically signal her with his eyes, causing Buffy to glare at them with mock suspicion.

"So, what's up?"

"Robin needs Spike to go help him with something. Some more weapons or something like that..."

Buffy raised her eyebrows, but Spike shrugged. "Sure. Guess providing some muscle is the least I can do right now."

"I'll go with—"

Dawn interrupted her. "No, you can't. Giles needs you for something. He said to get you too."

"'s alright, pet. I'll just go do the heavy lifting and be back soon. We should probably plan to do a patrol tonight..."

For some reason she couldn't explain, Buffy had a strong urge to kiss him good-bye and tell him to be careful. Shaking off the dread that had sent a chill through her, she nodded and followed Dawn out of the room. "Okay. I'll see you in a little while."

Buffy stared down at Robin Wood's crumpled body, watching dispassionately as he moved and groaned.

"If you ever try to hurt him again, I'll..."

"You'll what? Let him kill me?" he wheezed. "Have you forgotten your mission?"

"I was going to say I'll probably kill you myself. You might want to keep that in mind."

She turned and walked away, knowing Giles was probably rushing to the house to find out what had happened. She hoped he choked on the knowledge that Spike was still alive – and that he hadn't killed the man who attacked him. She shuddered as she tried to shake off the vision of that room – a room that had been designed for one purpose, and one purpose only.

She made no attempt to go find Spike. He'd come back when he was ready; when he'd gotten his anger under control. In the meantime, she had plans to make.

The first meeting between Spike and Faith hadn't been auspicious; although once the damsel in distress had shown herself to be a vampire, things had warmed up quickly. "I should have known it would go downhill from there," Buffy muttered as Faith walked past her and sashayed up the stairs, her hips swaying.

Buffy stared at Spike and at the now-empty space beside him where Faith had been sitting so comfortably. As hard as she tried to smother her instinctive jealousy, memories of Faith and Angel, Faith, in her body, and Riley made it impossible. And the way Spike was rubbing a guilty hand over the back of his neck and not meeting her eyes wasn't helping.

She was called away to talk to the new potential before either of them could say or do anything to make it better. Buffy figured it was just one more sucky thing in this very sucky and getting suckier year.

"It's good to be away from the hormone bombs, again," Spike said, nudging her arm. "This is much nicer company."

"Really?" Her voice sounded tired and defeated, causing him to spin around and frown with concern. She continued as if she hadn't seen him react. "You could have stayed home and played 'you show me yours, I'll show you mine' with Faith, instead of coming out here to—"

"Bloody hell, Buffy. You don't seriously think I..."

"Why not? You've got a thing for slayers; she's got a thing for sleeping with my boyfriends. You're made for each other." Buffy shrugged, her expression as neutral as she could make it.

"Why not?" He threw his hands in the air and gave the closest thing to a real snarl that she'd heard from him since he'd come back with his soul. "Have you forgotten who it's all about? If you think I'd seriously... I don't know whether to laugh or bite you."

He strode ahead of her, his coat flapping behind him. Buffy stared after him, wondering if she should let him go or try to apologize. She shrugged and decided she had enough to worry about and Spike would just have to get over his hurt feelings by himself. She turned to go another way, planning to make a quick patrol in the hope she would come across the newest First Evil minion. However, she hadn't gone a hundred yards before Spike was prowling beside her, his hands in his pockets and his head down.

"I would never, you know," he said softly. "Promised myself I'd never hurt you. Wouldn't have done even without the soul, but now..."

"I know." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just... I wanted to talk to you, and she... and then you... I was just feeling a little vulnerable, I guess." She turned her head to look at him. "I was afraid I might be losing my... I don't know what to call you. Best friend? Biggest supporter? Best warrior?" She shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do without you on my side."

"You called me your 'boyfriend'," he said quietly. "Are you demoting me already?"

"I did? I did, didn't I?" She looked at him from the corner of her eye; he was keeping his gaze on the ground, but she could read the tension in his face. She stopped him with a hand on his arm, moving it up to cup his cheek when he turned to face her. "Can we just postpone this conversation until we've kicked the First Evil's butt back to hell? I know that's not really fair, and I... but all I can think about right now is keeping these girls safe and—"

"It's fine, love." He turned his head to kiss her palm, then let her drop her hand. "You've got enough on your plate. I'm yours. You can call me whatever you like –I'll be here no matter what."

"I think I'll call you... William," she said softly. "If that's okay with you."

"'s my name, isn't it?"

"I've got him – go!" Spike's voice, as he took Xander's weight off her shoulder, sent her hustling to catch up with the others. She listened to be sure that he and the man he'd thrown over his shoulder were right behind her, turning occasionally to check on them. Spike put Xander in the car, murmuring sympathetically as he prepared to take him and the injured potentials directly to the hospital, leaving Buffy to shepherd the rest of the potentials to safety. She suffered a brief moment of hysteria as she acknowledged that the majority of her "army" consisted of girls not even old enough to drive. And now, one of the few adults left had lost an eye. She blinked back her tears and straightened her shoulders as she followed the rest of their vanquished raiding party back to the house.

She really shouldn't have been surprised by the revolt that broke out. Even her own sister seemed to have turned against her, spending much of her time hovering over Xander and being glared at by Anya. Spike was away again, this time on a mission that Giles had assured her, meeting her cold, suspicious gaze as steadily as he could, would bring no harm to the vampire, but possibly important information to her.

As she walked numbly through the deserted town, she shook her head sadly at her own stupidity in calling a meeting without her strongest supporter there.

He sent Spike away so he couldn't stop what Giles knew was going to happen. So he couldn't interfere when I was kicked out of my own house. Why didn't I see that coming? It's exactly what he did with me when Robin was going to kill Spike. Every time he tries to separate us, it means one of us is about to be shafted...

She bit her lip in worry, then decided that Andrew was too in love with his vision of Spike to be of any danger to him. Chances were the trip would just be a wild goose chase that meant nothing. Spike would return, find out what had happened, and...

And what, Buffy? He's only one man – vampire. A pretty amazing one, but he's not going to be able to save this situation. You're on your own... again.

She walked through the open door, calmly ordering the owner to get out of the house and out of the town before making herself at home. She lay on the bed, eyes open, but unfocused as she thought about all she'd given up to come back to Sunnydale.

I wonder what would have happened to everyone if I'd just stayed in my dream world? Would they all be dead? Would Spike still be here, or would he have died in agony when the chip malfunctioned? Would the First Evil have been able to become so powerful if I wasn't here? Would Xander still have his eye?

"Ah, there you are."

His voice brought her gaze over to him. And there he was. The vampire who wouldn't leave. The one who had wormed his way into her heart to such an extent that, in another world and time, she'd wanted to marry him. Here he was to remind her of all he was... and all he wasn't.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"I don't want to be the One," Buffy said with a trace of a pout. Her mind went from Spike's impassioned speech about the kind of woman she was to a quieter, more gentle place where all she had to be was herself. Where the only people I have to please are my parents, my boyfriend and my boss. Oh, and my shrink, I guess. "I don't want to be the One," she repeated stubbornly.

"Well, I don't want to be this good-looing and athletic..." He smiled up into her rolling eyes. "We all have our crosses to bear."

He'd already stood up and moved away, telling her he'd return to check on her, when she scooted back on the bed and said the words that wiped every trace of snark from his face and voice. Disbelief and awe were still fighting for dominance when Buffy patted the bed beside her.

"Just hold me?"

For the first time since she'd driven Spike away to get a soul, Bufy allowed herself the comfort of his arms. There was no trace of unwanted sexual tension as they lay together, exchanging soothing caresses and looks that said more than words ever could. Buffy dozed off, content for the moment to be held and cherished by the vampire who always had her back.

When she woke up he'd fallen asleep, the rising sun having taken its toll on his vampire constitution. As she stared at his youthful-looking face, relaxed in sleep in a way he would never allow when awake, she mourned the wonderful man she knew he could have been if not for meeting Drusilla.

But then, I wouldn't have known him, would I? Some other very lucky girl would have ended up married to William, and they'd have both been dead long before I was born.

Shaking off her sad thoughts, she basked briefly in the renewed courage and conviction that Spike's confidence in her had awakened the night before. She was suddenly sure that she knew, if not exactly what was being hidden in the winery, at least who it belonged to.

"There's something there that's mine," she wrote, struggling for words to explain why she was running off while Spike slept. "You've given me the courage to go after it. I know you'll want to help, but I have to do this by myself. What's there is mine to take. I'll be back when I've got it."

Buffy stared at the piece of paper, wanting so badly to sign the note "Love, Buffy" but worried about the consequences at a time when they had so much else to deal with. After. I'll tell him after. She settled for drawing a small heart with a B inside it, folded the paper, set it on the pillow, kissed his forehead and tiptoed out of the room, shoes in hand.

Buffy stared after Angel as he disappeared into the shadows, guilt over the way she'd minimized Spike's real place in her life making her cringe.

It's not like I ever told him about that other world. My 'heaven'. He has no idea why Spike is so important to me; and I don't see any reason to tell him now. If – when – this is over, I'll sit him down and try to explain...

She put her hand in her pocket, keeping it safely wrapped around the amulet that Angel had told her was meant to be worn by "a champion". "Stronger than human, but with a soul..." She tried to tell herself she wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it, but she knew she was lying. It only took getting Spike's justifiable hurt and jealousy out of the way – and how she regretted now that she'd kissed Angel when she did – before she accepted that he already knew it was going to be him. She slowly dropped it into his outstretched hand, her eyes apologizing for putting him in harm's way even as she watched him stand taller at this ultimate sign of faith.

As she lay next to him, feeling the familiar arms draped around her for what they both knew could well be the last time, she felt an unanticipated sob catch in her throat. Before she could muffle it, or the one that followed, he was holding her more tightly and murmuring in her ear.

"Buffy? What is it, love? You've been brilliant. You know that. You've done what you need to do – just as you always do. You're going to win, Slayer. You know you are."

Unable to articulate what was causing the uncharacteristic breakdown, she just turned towards him and burrowed into his chest, letting his calming words flow over her and his gentle hands soothe. When she felt she had control of her voice, she whispered, "I know we're going to win. I do. But some of us aren't going to make it. I know that too. I just don't know who it's going to be. I'm sending people to their deaths. Me. The Slayer. The one who's supposed to give her life so that no one else has to."

"World doesn't work like that, Buffy. Never has. There's no shame in bringing in help." He tipped her chin up. "And watching you give your life to save the world once was one time too many for me. Never letting that happen again."

She snorted and rubbed her nose on his shirt. "Who died and put you in charge?" she muttered, rubbing the wet spot she'd left on his chest.

"I'm just saying, love. If it's you or me... "

"How about if it's neither you or me?" she said, clutching him tightly. "Can we make that the plan?"

"We can. I hope we do. Got some important conversations to have yet, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed softly, stroking his face. "We do."

"That's settled then," he said, dropping his head to the pillow. "Neither one of us is going to die tomorrow. Got a future to plan."

"Sp- William?"

"Buffy?"

"Are you awake?"

"Mmmmph" He squirmed around until he was facing her. "I am now. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong, I was just..." She stroked her hand down his cheek. "I was just thinking that we have some time before we have to get up, and..."

His body tensed. "And what?"

"Do I have to spell it out?" She nuzzled the side of his neck, sucking gently on the place she knew made him crazy. Although his arms tightened around her and his interest was immediately apparent, his voice was not as welcoming as she'd expected.

"Might have to, Buffy. Thought we'd agreed..."

"One of us might die tomorrow – today. I just don't want..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, it was a bad idea, I guess."

"Oh, I think it's a bloody good idea, pet. Think you can tell that." He tipped her chin up and brushed his lips across hers in a chaste kiss. "But I don't think I want to go out knowing you threw me a pity fuck."

"Ewwww! And no. I'm... I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for me." She searched his eyes, seeing the fear under the bravado. Her voice softened as she stroked his face again. "I don't think I'd want to live, knowing we could have and we didn't... and then we never... I want you. I want to feel you again. Make love to me?"

"You know I can't refuse you anything," he said, struggling to make light of her words and to keep his voice even. "I just hope you appreciate the sacrifice I'm making here. The courage it takes to force myself to..."

"Shut up, you jackass."

"Shutting up."

The light coming from the amulet on Spike's chest seemed to be pouring directly out of his body. Every Turok-han the rays touched burst into flames or crumbled to dust. The entire Hellmouth was shaking, huge chunks of rock falling off the sides and bouncing their way into the abyss below. Ignoring Faith's demand that she follow them out, Buffy moved closer to Spike

"Gotta move, lamb," he said. "I think it's fair to say school's out for bloody summer." In spite of the pain he must have been in as his soul channeled the sun into the depths of hell, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

And he probably is, Buffy thought with a sad smile. All this destruction and all from him... from his soul.

Instead of leaving, Buffy moved closer to him and raised her left hand to link their fingers. The flames that licked between them burned with such a cold fire that she wasn't aware of pain, only of the man in front of her. Her eyes were focused on Spike, glowing as he literally burned away the evil. They stared wordlessly, their hands linked in flames, until Spike pulled his away.

"Go now!"

Her eyes brimming, Buffy realized that she was looking at Spike for what was probably going to be the last time. A voice inside her began to scream as he started to burn from the inside out.

"I love you."

He gave her a sad smile. "No, you don't. But thanks for saying it," he said. "Now go! It's up to me to do the clean up."

"I'm not leaving you!" She reached for amulet, trying to pull it away from his body, but the pull between it and the light he was emitting was too strong. "No!"

"Shhh, love, shhhh. It's what I was meant to do, yeah? This was the journey, the one that began when I saw you dancing with your friends all those years ago. Don't cry for me, Buffy. Live for me. Go, have yourself a life. Find someone who will love you the way you deserve."

"I have that," she insisted, realization dawning even as he started to crumble in front of her. "I have that!" she screamed, pulling on the amulet again, but only managing to burn her hand.

"See you on the other side, love," he said, his voice fading as his throat crumbled to ash.

Blinded by tears, Buffy turned and began to flee the rapidly disintegrating cavern. She burst out into the school, but fell to the floor when it bucked beneath her. Staggering to her feet, she watched in horror as the ceiling seemed to fold in on itself. She began to run, the door she needed to reach just visible at the far end of the hall. A muffled roar that grew louder told her that the building was collapsing behind her, and suddenly everything seemed to be in slow motion.

Her arms pumped, but barely, her feet hit the debris-covered floor so slowly that she was able to avoid the worst places. As she ran, she prayed that everyone had made it out, and that they were all safe on the bus, ready to head for safety. The ground continued to shake, an earthquake of such magnitude that even Southern California-bred Buffy wondered if the world was shaking itself apart. A sudden surge that buckled the floor in front of her sent Buffy to her knees, a piece of the wall landing on top of her and driving her down even more.

Buffy struggled to push the weight off her back. "Have to get out – work to be done – I'm the Slayer. I have to..." Her thoughts churned as her body struggled against the crushing weight. The Slayer – there were now hundreds of slayers in the world. She wasn't The One anymore. The First Evil had been defeated, if not forever, for long enough. Dawn was growing up and would soon be an adult, living her own life. Faith had proven herself worthy of being a slayer. Giles would have to work hard, but he had Xander and Willow, Anya and... Andrew? The Council would be resurrected. She could see it now. A Council that worked for slayers, not against them.

She sagged back to the floor, feeling the thousands of pounds of cinder block and drywall pressing on her lungs. Why am I fighting? I'm done... again. It's time, my time. As she gasped for air under the crushing weight of the wreckage now on her back, Buffy remembered Spike's last words to her: "See you on the other side, love." She lowered her head and collapsed onto the broken tiles. "Will..." she whispered as she closed her eyes. "Will."

The end.