Prayers For A Poet

By fetchingmadscientist

Chapter One

Buffy shook the rain from her umbrella and closed it as she entered the church. She thought that being inside might chase away the chill of the night air, but she was wrong. The chill she felt had nothing to do with the temperature outside. The chill came from inside her. The pleasing numbness found a home in her heart ever since that day. The numbness let her go on, let her continue to be the Slayer. The chill was her friend. She needed it. Has needed it for almost a year. She needed something to fill the hole inside her. The hole she didn't even know existed until he was gone.

She walked silently to the candles near the front of the church, smiled to herself as she lit one. What would he think of this ritual? What would he say if he knew that she did this every night for a year? Well, almost a year. There were brief periods when she'd tried to move on, but a slamming fist to the gut always closely followed them. There would always be something that would remind her of Spike.

The first punch to the gut came when Andrew brought the schizophrenic Slayer back from Los Angeles. She kept babbling about William the Bloody not touching her anymore. Just hearing any mention of Spike made it hard for Buffy to deal with her. When she was ranting like that, Buffy couldn't even be in the same room with her because when she tried, she would have to leave the room quickly because she would start crying.

She asked Andrew if she had been like that when he found her. He just got this funny look on his face, all pinched, like he had been sucking on lemons. She would have pressed the issue until Andrew squealed like a little girl, but Giles convinced her that Dana's outbursts meant nothing. That she had an injured mind, and anything she said should be evaluated in light of that fact.

Maybe Giles was right, but that didn't make hearing her say Spike's name, out loud, hurt any less. Knowing that Dana was crazy didn't mean that she was any less guilty for having left him to burn in the Hellmouth.

She knew she should have saved him; she should have gotten him out of there. But, she didn't. And, she would live with the guilt of that decision for the rest of her life.

As she watched the white wisp of smoke curl heavenward, she thought of where Spike's soul had gone after the battle in Sunnydale. She hoped that he had made it to heaven. She hoped he was happy and at peace wherever he was. He deserved that much, at least.

As she waited here, at this time and in this place, for him to come, she thought about the strange events that brought them together once more.

---

It all started about two months ago, in Rome. Buffy was on a date, well, he wasn't really a date so much as a distraction from thinking about him, when the feeling hit. The feeling she hadn't felt since...she couldn't remember when. It was so strong that the hairs stood up on the nape of her neck. She had been doing so well too. Dawn even said so. There were long stretches of hours where she didn't cry at all. Didn't think of him. But just as she thought it was safe to breathe, the fist would slam down again, and send her careening into a tailspin.

She tried to ignore the fist now. Tried to lose herself to the electronic beat of the music, but the feeling only got stronger. It was getting closer now, and she felt as if, if she turned around, she would see him. But she knew that couldn't be true. He was dead. He'd died like the hero she knew he could be, buried at the bottom of the Hellmouth, for her. He died for all of them.

She tried to ignore it, but she couldn't. The pull of it was so strong that she left her date, standing, looking flabbergasted, right in the middle of the nightclub, and ran out into the street. But, by the time she got to the street in front of the club, the feeling was gone. She was alone again. She felt so desolate that she began to cry. She didn't even say goodbye to her date, just walked back to her apartment, weeping like her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

Buffy thought that her apartment would be the one place she'd be safe. The one place she could pull the covers up over her head and not have to think about him. But she was wrong.

She hadn't even reached her door before the scent overwhelmed her, almost made her double over. The mixture of leather, cigarettes, earth and spice that had been uniquely Spike's, was so thick she could barely breathe. Opening the door, it felt, to her, as if he'd been in her apartment. Like he'd been there, waiting for her to come home from her date so he could give her the third degree. She smiled at the thought of him lounging on her couch, shooting her an inquisitive eyebrow, and asking, in a knowing tone, "Really, Love, don't you think you deserve better?" Then, she saw, in her mind's eye, him roll his bright azure eyes at her and say, " Even the Whelp would be a step up from that! Or Hell, even Peaches! Come on, Pet."

The hope that somehow she was right sprang up so full that she began to fling open doors and throw back curtains. She was so certain that he was there that she even looked under the bed. She looked in every nook and cranny she could think of. But he was nowhere to be found.

She cried herself to sleep that night. Just as she did every night, trying to forget the achingly familiar smell that hung in the air.

---

Then, on the anniversary of Spike's death, she woke up screaming, and covered with sweat, the visions of that horrible nightmare still playing in her head.

She'd seen him, at the end of some rain-soaked alley; holding a sword high, ready to fight a swarm of demons. She could feel the fear in his soul. A fear he tried to squelch under some well-used swagger, but it was there. Somehow, she felt it, the fear that he would never see her again.

Then she saw what looked to be a giant dragon, like the ones in the movies, breathe a steam of fire out of its mouth. The fire engulfed Spike quicker than dry leaves. She screamed as she watched the man she loved, go up like so much kindling.

She had been too frightened to go back to sleep. Closing her eyes again when she saw the first rays of sunlight hit her windowpane.

---

Now she was here, in L.A., in a church, at midnight. And why? Because of a cryptic message Angel left on her phone answering machine two weeks ago:

"Buffy, it's me, Angel. I need you to come to L.A. as soon as you can, please? There's...something you should know." His voice sounded tired and strained, "I may need you to help me track down Drusilla. I'd come to you, but things are a bit...unstable right now, and I need to keep a close watch. Meet me at Saint Benedict's church, at midnight. I've been there every night, Buffy. So it won't matter what night you come, or if you come, I'll be there. Buffy, I know you don't trust me, and I don't blame you. But, Buffy, this could mean life or death. Hurry, please. There may not be much time left."

That message sent chills up her spine. And now she was here, lighting candles for a hero. Waiting for an old lover, who she now thought of as an enemy.

Buffy was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't sense Angel until he was right beside her. She watched, through disbelieving eyes, as he lit a candle and then turned, solemnly, to sit in the nearest pew.

She sat down next to him, "What is this about? I've been to the Wolfram and Hart building. There isn't much left of it."

Angel lowered his head, "I know. I took them all into the fight, with the Senior Partners, and The Circle of Black Thorn. I didn't expect to..."

"The Circle of Black Thorn?" Buffy gasped, barely able to keep her voice down, "They're akin to the First Evil. There's no way you can beat them back, at least not for good, there're always more coming."

"I know that now," Angel sighed, "I didn't expect to make it out. I wouldn't have if he hadn't stepped in front of me at the last second," Buffy could see tears starting to stream down Angel's face, "Buffy, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. But I made him feel so small. I made him think that you didn't care. I never told him about how you used to call me, crying, wishing that you'd said it sooner."

"Angel, what are you talking about? You're scaring me."

"Buffy," Angel sobbed, "it's Spike. He's dying. There's nothing more I can do for him. It may already be too late."

Chapter Two

In the space of time it took Angel to say the words, Buffy's brain was bombarded with images of him.

The reluctant hero she saw when she teamed up with him to fight Angelus. The fierce killer he was in the seconds before her Mom had hit him in the head with the fire axe. The unbridled joy that shone in his eyes when they were under the influence of Willow's spell. The strange mix of lust and sadness that glowed in his gold eyes, somehow telling her, "Come on, Slayer. Don't make it this easy. I know you're a fighter. Don't let it happen this way. Not like this, Slayer, you're too young to die," during the slow-motion bite on Halloween night. The frightened, haunted, horrified look, when she kicked him away from her, and against the bathroom wall. And there was an undying love, fathoms deep, in his eyes, when he sent her away from the Hellmouth. She saw it all, in the space of an eye blink, in his eyes. She saw so much that it made her dizzy. Somehow she managed to stay on her feet, and find her voice, "What did you say?"

Angel saw Buffy's face turn ashen white, and he moved to catch her before her knees buckled under her, and she sank to the floor. Holding her securely in his grasp, he navigated her back to her seat in the pew. Through an emotion thick voice, he asked her, "You all right?" When he received nothing but a vacant stare, as an answer, he shook her, perhaps a bit too roughly, "Buffy, can you hear me," he asked, careful to keep his voice low so he did not alarm the few worshipers that were scattered throughout the sanctuary, "Slayer, are you in there? Can you hear me?"

The use of her title snapped her mind back to the present. What was that? Did he just call me, Slayer? It threw her off balance, just slightly. Her world tilted suddenly. She looked into his face. No, that's the wrong face, she thought. Those are the wrong eyes. They're brown. Aren't the supposed to be blue? His eyes were the prettiest blue. She felt like shouting until the rafters shook, 'You don't get to call me that! He's the only one who ever called me that. How dare you look at me with that sad face and those puppy dog eyes, and think you can call me that! You're wrong. Just wrong, wrong, wrong!'

Buffy shook her head, trying to clear it. Her voice came out as a whisper, "Did you say something?"

Angel kept his head down, not wanting to see the shock and pain in her eyes. Or, maybe he didn't want her to see the shame he felt, he wasn't sure which. He took an unnecessary breath, "I know this must be a shock, after all this time..."

"Time," she hissed through clenched teeth, "Is that what you think is the big shocker here," if she hadn't been in a church, she would have let loose with full tilt Buffy in seek-and-destroy mode. As it was though, she would have to settle for a less Slayer-like reaction, "That's what's wrong with this scenario? How long it took you to get back to me about the fact that Spike, apparently, survived the Hellmouth? A shock? That's all you think this is? A shock is something you get after you walk across a carpet and touch a doorknob," her voice was straining under the effort it took not to frighten the people around them, who, she noticed, had started to make annoyed glances at them, "This? This is a fifty megaton blast!"

"He wanted to go to you, Buffy. He did. But, I convinced him that it would be better if he didn't, that he was more needed here." He finally looked up to see her eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Her chin quivered, trying to keep the grief from spilling out. I will not let Angel see me cry, she thought. "Better? Needed?" she asked, her voice like that of a small, lost child, "Better for who, Angel? You? Were you afraid that, oh, I don't know, maybe I'd actually be happy with him? That for once, I might get a chance to be happy?" She lost the battle with her tears, as twin silver rivulets fell down her face, and she whispered, letting Angel hear the quiet storm that raged inside her heart at his betrayal, "I needed him," Buffy looked him square in the face so there would be no misunderstandings, and said, coldly, " I need him more now than I ever needed you."

Angel winced at the acid her tongue could spill. But then, he expected nothing less, and deserved all of the vitriol she could dish out. "Buffy," he sighed, "I deserve every curse you could think of for keeping him from you. I know that. But, if you want to see him, it has to be now," he bit his lip, "Buffy, he's hurt. And, he's weak. I don't think he can hold on much longer. We have to get back to him."

Buffy's voice was small, "He's hurt? And, you left him alone? Angel," she looked at him with large, pleading eyes, "what if he..."

"Buffy, he's not alone," he said.

Chapter Three

There was so much pain he was overwhelmed by it, almost numb to it. He was sure that, if he just screamed, then things would be better, except he didn't have the energy to scream. He didn't have the energy to do much of anything, really. He expended all the energy he had just to be conscious. And, he wasn't even sure he was that. There wasn't much he knew right now, but he did know pain. Pain was good. Pain meant that he was still here, and if he was still here, maybe she was too. He could live with that, or not. Right now, spin the bloody wheel and see which comes up.

Illyria paced the dark, twisting confines of the sepulcher under Saint Benedict's. After her pet had been wounded in the battle, this place seemed the most logical one in which to take refuge. It was well secluded and, as most of the demons they had fought a fortnight ago, were of small minds, and superstitious, few would dare follow them into a holy place. Still, a warrior must always be on guard for an enemy attack. So, she patrolled, to be certain that her pet was not assassinated by his foes before his shell had the time it needed to heal itself.

As she entered the small burial chamber in which he rested, Illyria was distressed at the sight of the vampire.

The fire from the winged beast had charred the vampire's skin. The vestments that he chose to wear as his armor, had become embedded in the wounds. But the damage the flying beast inflicted was not, by any means the worst. Before she had had a chance to shield him, or to even warn him of the danger, Illyria saw the vampire slice into a Dufarn'k with great relish. Thereby exposing him to its blood.

Illyria was aware of that species of demon. The acid content in its blood could consume anything it touched. Before she had been able to protect him, the vampire was covered in a great amount of its blood before it expired. As a result, much of the left side of his face and throat had been eaten away, exposing the bone underneath, and leaving him unable to speak.

She did not wish to disturb the little peace that unconsciousness brought the vampire. Oblivion was a mercy he required now, of that, she was certain. But, the part of her that had been Winifred Burkle, knew he required something else in order to continue. That was not something Illyria was accustomed to bestowing. But, she reached for the small speck of her being that still remembered how to give this thing. Hope.

She modulated her vocal range so that she could access the shell's voice, "Spike," she imitated the Texas drawl, "You gotta hang on, all right? I know you can hear me. Don't try to talk. You've been hurt, Spike. Real bad. Angel sent for Buffy. She's on her way. I'm sure of it! Just hold on a little longer."

---

Ah, finally a familiar voice. Fred? What are you doing here? Hurt? I'm hurt? Must be real bad if Blue called you out, huh? Don't worry those pretty specs of yours, Fred. I couldn't talk now, even if I wanted to. Too tired. Buffy? She's coming? She's here? Yes, she's here. I can smell her. She's here! Oh, God, I wish I could move! Buffy! I'm here, Love. Can you hear me? Please say that you can hear me. I can hear you. Buffy, please, I need you. Please say something, Love. Oh, I wish I could move, but I'm so bloody tired.

There was a sob that echoed through the walls of the tomb, "Spike? Oh, God," she held Angel's arm in a vice grip, afraid that, if she let go she would faint, "Angel? Is that Spike?"

Yes, it's me. Love. Can you hear me? Buffy, I know it must look bad, but I'm here. Buffy? Answer me, please? Buffy!!

---

Buffy threw Angel off of her arm and rushed to where Spike lay, suddenly not caring about the shock of his appearance. She looked franticly for some spot, some place that wasn't injured, so that she could touch him and tell herself that he was real. She just needed to touch him before she did what she knew needed to be done. And, she would do it, even if Spike didn't like it. And she knew he wouldn't.

She found the spot she needed. His left index finger was perfect. She was sure there were more areas that were undamaged, but didn't want to risk hurting him any more than she had to. "Hey," she whispered, sliding her fingertip along the soft skin of his hand. Surprising, she thought, with all the fighting he's done, you'd think his skin would be rougher than it is. I remember that as being his first in a long line of surprises. She tried to smile, knowing that he would sense it if she were upset, "You clean up real nice," she choked, "I'd hate to see what you looked like before I got here."

Yeah, well you should have seen the other guy, Pet.

"You should have called me. You know me, I love a good apocalypse," she smiled at the thought of fighting alongside him again, "I would have brought reinforcements. Maybe a rocket launcher or two?"

Right. Forgot about Big Blue. Who's idea was that, anyway?

"Xander's, actually. I just pulled the trigger."

Harris?! He actually had two thoughts in his head long enough to come up with a plan?

"Spike, stop it," she teased.

Watching Buffy talk to herself as if Spike was answering her unnerved Angel. Maybe the shock of seeing Spike like this had driven her a little mad. "Buffy, maybe you should sit down. You look a little tired. Maybe, once you get some rest..."

Tell him to bugger off, Pet. I'd do it myself, only I'm a little hoarse.

"Okay," she said as she turned to Angel, never letting go of Spike's hand, "Go away, Angel," she smirked, "Only he said it with a little more...enthusiasm ."

Enthusiasm? I told him to Bugger. Off.

Buffy smiled and shook her head, "Go away. Again. Louder this time."

Angel couldn't take it anymore, "Buffy, who are you talking to?"

She would have laughed, if the question hadn't been so downright stupid. She answered, her eyes never leaving Spike's hand, her back turned toward Angel, "Well duh. Who else in this room is worth talking to?"

Careful, Slayer, the pin you just put in that over inflated ego could cause a vacuum that could just blow us all back to Sunnydale. And, no offense, but I am NOT going through that again.

"No one is asking you to, Spike. Once was more than enough."

Twice.

"Oh, ha, ha. Very funny. I'm going to make sure there isn't a third time."

Ditto.

"Wait, you've actually seen 'Ghost'?"

Didn't have to see it, Pet. I lived it. Well, you know, for a while I was a ghost.

This revelation was enough to make her tear her gaze away from his hand, if she looked anywhere else she knew she would start to cry, and narrow her eyes at Angel, "Really," her voice took on a low menacing tone, "No one told me."

Sensing that, somehow, just by being in the room, he'd gotten himself into trouble, Angel spoke up, "I...I..." he gave up, waving his hands in the air, he shouted, "Who are you talking to?"

Now it was Buffy's turn to be confused, "You mean, you don't hear him?" she asked, dreading the answer, because if Angel couldn't hear Spike, then that could only mean one of three things: Either she was crazy, or that demon aspect thing was back, but that was hard to believe, since aside from the occasional Italian vampire, she hadn't fought any demons lately. Or, somehow, Spike and she were connected. Buffy hoped the answer was one of the last two. She didn't want to be crazy, no matter how nice it was to hear Spike's voice again.

"No," Angel answered, simply.

"Oh."

No big change there, Love. He never listened to me before. Why in the bloody Hell would he start now? Listen, don't have a wiggins. We'll figure this out. In the meantime, I've got you all to myself. I kind of like it. Do wish I could touch you though.

Now Buffy had to laugh, "Wiggins? Spike, I love you, but, you've been around me too long. You're starting to pick up my idioms."

Please, Love, say it again.

"What, wiggins?"

No. The other.

"Idioms?" Buffy asked sweetly, knowing what he needed to hear. But, also knowing that if she didn't give him a hard time, make him feel comfortable, then no amount of Slayer blood would help him heal.

No. The other, other.

"I love you, Spike," she held her breath, praying that he wouldn't say it. Not again, please. I don't think I could take it. When the noise in her head was curiously silent, she asked, "Spike?"

The voice in her head was awestruck. Yeah, Love I'm still with you. Just...never thought I'd hear you say that. It's just a little...wow.

"Why are you surprised? I've said it before."

Confusion. No, you haven't, Love. That's something I think I'd remember you telling me.

Maybe he didn't remember. Maybe the reason he hadn't come back for her was because he didn't remember that she'd told him in the Hellmouth. The thought made her want to grab him and hold him tight and never, ever let him go again. She would have too, if he hadn't been so badly burned.

The joy she felt in her heart over not being rejected made her heart so full that it had to burst. Somehow, some way, it had to burst. Buffy broke out into heart-rending sobs.

Oops, crying now was not the thing to do. Almost immediately she felt the concern slam into her head.

Love, what's wrong?! You're crying. And, don't tell me you're not. I can hear it, and, I can smell it. You don't need an audience for this, Love. I wish to bloody Hell I could tell Angelus to get out of here!

"Angel," she sniffed, "why don't you and Miss Blue Bonnet go, I don't know, somewhere?"

"But , Buffy..."

"Oh, Angel, do whatever you want! Just... do it somewhere that's else, right now."

"What if he..."

"What's he gonna do? Is he gonna get up off the bier and ravish me?"

There's an idea!

Angel saw the Mona Lisa smile that crossed Buffy's face, decided he'd better not ask, especially if she wasn't crazy, and Spike was talking to her, took Illyria by the elbow, for which he got a scowl, and left them alone.

"Good. Now that we're alone, we can get down to business..."

Now there's a plan I can get behind.

"...Spike what's the last thing you remember... about that day on the Hellmouth?"

You mean after Angel's little bauble started doing its thing?

"Uh huh"

Nothing, except for the pain. And waking up in Angel's office, all specter-like. Why?

"You don't remember telling me that I didn't love you?"

No. Buffy, I would never say a thing like that to you!

"You did."

Buffy, if I said that, I didn't mean it. I don't remember saying that, Love, I'm sorry. Truly sorry.

"That's okay. All's forgiven," Now came the hard part. She fiddled with the small knife in her pocket. The Slayers and the Boy Scouts, always prepared. Buffy needed a distraction if this was going to work. Glancing first at Spike, to be sure he was all right, she walked over to the empty stone bier and tore the top off, tossing it against the chamber wall. Hoping the noise would distract him long enough, she sliced her palm open, hissing at the sting she felt as the blade penetrated her skin.

Buffy! What was that? I smell blood. Are you hurt?

"Only a little," she said as she walked back to the bier he was laying on, "Oh, Spike, it's your lucky day! Nice ripe girl, delivered hot and fresh right to you."

You're never going to let a bloke live that down, are you? Buffy, tell me you didn't...

"Yes I did, and no, I won't. Better hurry," she placed her hand as close to the side of his face and neck as she dared, letting the blood trickle down into the wounds, "Or it'll go to waste."

Buffy don't. I won't take it. I won't use you as a meal.

She smiled, knowingly, "Then get up and stop me. Oh, that's right, you can't right now. You can't even argue with me until you have a throat. And, you won't have a throat without my help, so, I guess you're stuck. But, if you won't take my blood, I know there are at least five other Slayers in Los Angeles, County. I'm sure they would love to traipse through a dank, underground crypt to get a chance to gawk at L.A.'s version of vampire flambé. But, I'm sure you wouldn't want that. So, until you can speak up for yourself, you're stuck."

Bossy bint.

"Oh, yeah," she smiled as she watched the muscles begin the long process of healing themselves, "I'd say we're looking at about a month of a 'Slayer rich' diet. That, and some tender loving care, should put you on the mend. At least enough to argue with me, then we'll see what you need from there."

A month? I look that bad?

"To me, you look perfect. But, to anyone else? You're pretty trashed. Glory was a piece of cake, compared to this," the blood flow started to slow, because the gash on her hand was healing up, "Looks like that's all for tonight. I'll bring the Blue Bonnet back in here," she walked toward the chamber archway, "You know, she looked at me like I was going to tear apart her favorite squeak toy?"

She would. She thinks I'm her pet.

Buffy chuckled, "Does she? Well, I'll just have to set her straight. You good for a few minutes, while I get her? After that, I'm going to get some straight talk from Angel."

Yeah, I'm good. I love you.

"I love you too, Spike," she whispered as she left the chamber.

Chapter Four

Buffy waited until she was outside the chamber to release the breath she'd been holding. Her knees nearly buckled as she groped for the stone behind her to help keep her steady. She was lightheaded, both from the blood loss and the crashing reality that was just now beginning to hit right between the eyes. He was alive! Well, yeah, not technically, but he was here. And, oh, God, she couldn't let him know how bad it really was, because if she did, he'd beg her to stake him on the spot. The skin was so black, and so dry; it looked like it might flake off if she touched him. He looked like a lump of burnt paper. How he was able to stay together, and not scatter to the four winds, she didn't know. She knew that his soul had to be of a warrior's ilk, or he would have given up by now. She was so proud of him she couldn't catch her breath.

And she was angry, angry beyond words, with the vampire, with the second-rate soul, who had the unmitigated gall to make such a warrior feel unwanted, and unnecessary. He was going to pay for that. But first, she had some personal demons to fight. Once they were purged, and her emotions were no longer in control, then she'd take him on.

The Bluebird that had been flittering around the chamber opening, since Angel left, set her chin high, and her gaze hard, and, engaged Buffy, lightning fast, her purpose known to her. Buffy could respect that. Gotta love a girl with a mission, Buffy thought.

"If you have harmed the vampire, if you have injured him further, I will disembowel you. Do you understand, female?"

"Whoa, okay," Buffy squared her shoulders, blue eyes meeting green, neither one giving an inch. They both knew that that was not what was needed here, " First of all, I'm on your side; believe me, so, no disembowelment required here. Second, even though I am slightly more at ease with the people skills, I would have the same reaction if you hurt him any further. I would react the same way you would if any, and I do mean, anybody hurts him," she squinted her eyes at the ice-blue gaze, "Do you understand me?"

Blue eyes blinked, and took a step back, appraising Buffy. She nodded slightly, "I can see why the vampire prizes you so highly."

Buffy sneered, "Good, I'm glad we understand each other. Where's Angel?" she asked, looking around but not finding him.

"The one you call Angelus has left to commence his resting cycle. It is my duty to watch over the vampire during the solar phases."

"Oh, well, that's good. Do you know how to use a phone?"

"I am familiar with the telecommunications system."

"Good," Buffy reached into her pocket and handed her cellular phone to the woman, "I have a pager. Anything goes wrong; if he gets any worse, if he even twinges, hit the 'Home' button. Okay?"

"Where will you be located," she asked dispassionately.

"Sunnydale," she called out, leaving Illyria behind, "I'll be back at sunset."

---

During the four -hour drive from Los Angeles to what used to be Sunnydale, Buffy did some thinking. Some thinking she should have done years ago.

She thought about her friends, the ones that called themselves, collectively, "Scoobies." First, there was Xander, who, after telling a bunch of girls, who didn't even know her, what a great leader she was; told them they might get hurt, but with Buffy in the lead, they'd get out alive. At first, Buffy thought that Xander really had faith in her, but it turned out she was wrong. He didn't believe in her. And how did she know this? Because, after a battle, in which lives were lost, and he'd lost an eye, but come out alive, he was one of the first to try and throw her out of her own house! And, after the battle with the First, the battle in which they'd both lost loved ones, the battle that should have brought them together as comrades in arms? That battle, instead, drove them apart. Buffy hadn't seen Xander in a over a year.

Willow, she was no different. Willow had such a need to be in control of things, that once "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was finally done, dead and in the ground, at peace, she couldn't just leave her there. Willow had to mess things up. Had to make the world the way she wanted it. And, what did she do when Buffy needed money to help run the house? Did she offer to get a job, maybe help out a little, when it came to finances, like Spike had? No. But Buffy was expected to take care of everyone. Now, the people she had called her "friends," weren't even around to help her deal with this crisis.

She felt the need to scream and cry, so, she turned the rental car's radio to some obnoxious punk rock station, turned the volume up, as loud as it would go, and screamed her lungs out.

---

Buffy looked at the giant hole in the desert that had once been her home. All of her life was down there. Her house was down there. Her school was down there. Her Mom was down there. She was down there, once. Spike was down there, too. But, now he wasn't.

As she stood at the edge of the crater, the toe of her shoe pushing loose gravel over the edge and down into the pit, she looked up at the sky, in all its beautiful blueness, and asked, "Why couldn't you, for once, just once, let him win? What does he have to do to earn your respect? He's tried so hard. He's changed so much," she let her tears fall into the soft sand that made up the wall of the crater, "Don't misunderstand me, please, I am so glad that he's still here. You have no idea how much. It's just...can I ask you one question? What answer did you give Spike when he asked you these questions...about me?"

---

When the sun went down, she was ready. She had asked Angel to meet her, in Griffith Park, because she wanted to get some answers from him, and she wasn't going to get them using hushed tones in a church. So, Illyria agreed to keep watch over her "pet" for the next few hours, while she and Angel had a little conversation.

"Angel," she greeted coolly, "we need to talk."

"I know, Buffy," he said.

"Why don't you have a seat," she said, indicating the bench she had just vacated. When Angel took the seat she offered and then looked at her, expecting her to sit down again, she said, "I think I'll stand, if you don't mind."

Angel let out a heaving sigh, "Okay. Buffy, what do you want to know?"

Buffy started pacing in front of the park bench, "Well, for starters, you say you went to battle with the Senior Partners and the Circle of Black Thorn?"

Angel nodded, "That's right."

Buffy bit her lip in concentration, "Angel," she said, "those are some pretty heavy hitters. How come half of Los Angeles isn't rubble right now? How come it just looks like there was only a minor earthquake? A few buildings down, but no casualties, no bodies, not even demon ones? Yet, you say there were thousands of them, in an alley thirty feet wide; there was even a fire-breathing dragon, for Christ's sake! That much I know is true, because I saw it. Hell, even if I didn't dream about it, if I wanted proof, all I would need to do is look at Spike to know that it happened. You say you killed it? Where did it go? Did it just go, 'Poof'?"

Angel hung his head, "Yes."

"Oh," Buffy was pacing like a panther. She now knew what Spike felt like when he was gearing up for a good rant, "I see. And, the thousands of others, against, how many was it again, four of you, they just disappeared, too?"

Angel started to protest, "But you faced those kinds of odds too. And, you won."

"Yes, I won. With the help of a witch, twenty Slayers, and that frigging sunshine grenade of an amulet that I made Spike wear, because you, who gave the damned thing to me, left town! Oh, and my friends helped too."

Angel muttered, under his breath, "Oh, not that again," louder he said, "I was going to stay. But, you made me leave."

Buffy looked at him as if he'd grown three heads, "Did I hold a stake to your heart?"

He mumbled again, "Kind of did, yeah. What with Spike and all."

"Oh, my God! This is not going to turn into the, 'Spike took my girl, so let's pity Angel' party, is it?"

Angel pouted, and said, petulantly, "You are my girl. Not his."

Buffy stopped pacing, looked Angel in the eyes, and said, "I. Could. Never. Be. Your. Girl!" Buffy shook her head, catching her breath, and tried to regain focus, "What kind of idiot goes into battle when it's four against thousands?"

Angel said nothing.

"If there was this big battle, and for argument's sake, I'll give you that, why would the 'Almighty Great And Powerful Oz' of evil, the Circle of Black Thorn, stop? How come you're not dead, or dust, in your case, like half your little 'army'?"

"Because I'm a member of the Circle," he stated flatly.

Buffy gasped, "You're what?!"

"I'm a member," he gulped.

Buffy's eyes went wide with shock, "Was this before, or after you decided to turn around the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart, a law firm that has done business with evil for eons, by yourself!?"

"After."

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe your hubris! I can't believe I ever thought you were a 'Champion of the People', a thought just snapped in Buffy's brain, and she grabbed Angel up off the bench by his shirt collar, held him so that his feet were off the ground, and hissed through clenched teeth, "I just have a few more questions, Angelus. And believe me when I tell you that if I don't get an answer, if I don't get truthful answers, I have a stake, sharp and ready to use, within my reach right now," Angel's eyes went wide with fright, "Shall we see who's faster, a lumbering, numb brained vampire who's been out of the evil-fighting business for far too long, or a Slayer, who for the better part of three years, worked, and trained, and fought alongside a vampire who killed, at last count, two Slayers? How many have you killed, Angelus," he shook his head, mutely, "None? Care to try your luck," he shook his head again, "No? That's smart," Buffy shoved him hard against the bench, "Then answer my questions and I'll play nice. Did you become a member of the Circle before or after Spike became a solid citizen again?"

"A-after."

"Good boy! See how we're getting along? Next question. Did you start the fight with the Circle so you could have Spike out of the way, and the Slayer on your arm?" Even Buffy was surprised at that question. Where did that come from? And why, all of the sudden, did she feel like she had had a little too much to drink, kind of giddy? She waited for an answer, "Well?"

He nodded his head once.

Buffy's jaw twitched, "I want to know, exactly, how many demon poisons you exposed Spike to, along with the cures, if there are any, and I want to know now!"

---

She was still jittery from the confrontation with Angel. She paced the small space of the chamber, trying to come down. Boy, was that a rush! She felt like she hadn't felt since she used to patrol with Spike, and he'd pick a fight, deliberately, just to have fun, "No, you don't get it, Spike. This was different. It was charged," she just couldn't get the words out of her mouth fast enough, "Everything was spinning," in her head, she could hear a soft chuckling, almost a giggle, "Then, suddenly the words were out of my mouth, and it felt so good! Spike, it felt so good to just grab him up and just toss him like a rag doll!"

I bet it was at that, Pet.

Buffy took a heaving sigh, "It was like, for a minute there, it wasn't me talking. I was moving, but it felt like someone was lifting me up, like, on their shoulders, pushing me? It was like the words coming out of my mouth weren't mine. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

A smirk. Maybe the reason they didn't feel like your words, Love, is because they weren't yours. They were mine.

Buffy gaped at the still form lying on the stone bier, unable to even open an eyelid, "That was you? You did that?"

Yes.

"Why?"

Well, I had to do something, didn't I? It is me lying here, like a lump of flesh, clock ticking and all. Besides, I couldn't let you have all the fun, could I? He wasn't going to give the information up to just you, Love. He needed a little shove. I provided it.

She walked over to him, took his finger in her hand, and said, "I love you, Spike. We'll find Drusilla in time, I know it."

I hope so, Pet. I bloody well hope so.

Chapter Five

Weeks could have gone by, and he wouldn't have known it. He was lost in a kind of delirium, only dimly aware of things around him. He was aware of Buffy's nightly feedings. Those feedings, although meager, were the only things standing in the gap between him, and utter madness. And he knew that she was trying to help, but he also knew that the demon inside of him was railing, furious at his body for allowing itself to become so damaged.

And just how damaged was he, anyway? A few more steps into the red zone than he had been after Dana's attack, of that he was sure. Well, since no one who buzzed around him constantly, told him anything about his condition, good or bad, Spike could only assume that it was still as bad as bad could get. Although, how much worse can a vamp get then dust? He was dust once, and here he was now. One step up from dust, and from the scent of the tears Buffy thinks he doesn't know about, sliding downhill fast. Still, there was still hope, right? He could still rally, couldn't he? All he needed was time, and a little of the sweet stuff in Buffy's veins. Just hold on until Dru could find him. That is, if she was even looking for him. He'd just hold on. But, why? Why was that again? He wasn't trying to be difficult, really he wasn't, if he could just find the reason again, then he'd have the trail to follow, the breadcrumbs to find. He could do it, he was just so tired, and everything seemed so heavy. Maybe if he rested a little, it would be better.

The little refuge he did get from sleep, was interrupted by thoughts of Drusilla. Spike thought of her, because, no matter how many years, be it a hundred or a thousand, or perhaps just these next sixty minutes, he existed, when everything was tallied, it all came down to her. Drusilla was the reason William died in that livery stable. She was the reason William the Bloody had roared into existence. She was the reason he grabbed life by the throat, drained every last drop and left deep, red furrows, before dropping it, carelessly, to the ground. Drusilla was the reason he'd come to Sunnydale, the reason he'd met Buffy.

Then his world, a world he knew his place in, went topsy-turvy, and nothing was ever the same again. Up became down, and wrong became right. Everything changed so quickly that he became dizzy just trying to keep up. Just when he thought he knew where he stood, he was tossed into the sea again, grasping at Angelus's heels just to stay afloat. Surely Angelus, no matter their past, would understand and help. Angelus wouldn't throw him over into the abyss. But, it seems, he had. And now, he was back where it all began. With Drusilla.

Spike thought of that night in Prague. He'd found his dark beauty, pinned to a wooden spire, with crudely fashioned sakes driven into her delicate palms. He ripped through half the villagers, desperately trying to reach her before they could touch torch to wood. He could hear the sound of her screams as he crashed, unwillingly, into unconsciousness after one of the townspeople struck him in the head, before finally succumbing to the lethal wounds he'd received as payment for Drusilla's treatment.

Spike awoke to the smell of smoldering wood and burnt flesh. As he opened his eyes and looked around, he caught sight of Drusilla, still pinned to the spire, her head hanging limply to one side. He ignored the pain, screeching for acknowledgement, in his own body, and crawled toward her. When he reached her, with trembling hands, he touched the slippers on her feet, which were dangling, free from her prison.

That act confirmed for him that it had been no nightmare, and he got swiftly to his feet. Swaying a little from the shock, he pressed his fingertips into her blackened palms, deftly avoiding the reddened holes at the center. He reached out to her cheek, touching it lovingly. With a trembling voice, he spoke, as if the moment were made of glass, and any stray sound would shatter it, and her, into a thousand pieces, "Drusilla, baby," he ignored the wetness on his face, "can you hear me, baby?"

She gave a little mewling sound, "S...pike?"

He felt his knees go weak with joy, "Yes, it's me, baby. I've got you now. Daddy's got you," he cooed at her, trying to distract her from the pain, "I've got you now. It's going to be all right," he said that for himself, as well as for her, "Those bastards paid for what they did to you," his voice hitched, "Dru, I'm sorry," he bit his lip, trying not to whimper, "Can you sing for me, Dru?" he asked.

"It hurts, Spike."

The agony rose in his throat, "I know," his voice wobbled. He had to distract her so that he could pry her free, "Please sing. Do it for me, all right?"

As he heard her humming faintly, he gave her warning, "This might hurt a little, darling, but keep singing for me, okay?" With that, Spike reached nervous fingers around the spire, pressed his palm against the tip of the stake in her left hand, closed his eyes, and shoved as hard as he could, hearing the stake fall, softly, to the earth after her sharp yelp of pain. Waves of pain shuddered through him as he sighed, "Keep singing, baby, it's almost over. Don't worry, I've got you," he kept murmuring as he shoved the other stake out of her hand, and caught her limp body as she fell forward against him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, shifting her in his arms, "I'm taking you home," he assured her, as her head lulled in the crook of his arm.

He remembered sitting at her bedside for months. Never leaving the lair, not even to feed, and snarling at any minion who dared to suggest that it was hopeless. He beheaded one for even thinking that he should give up, and leave his princess to die.

Then, one day, one of his smarter minions, Dalton, came to him with a manuscript that mentioned that the way to help Drusilla might be found on the Hellmouth, and the rest, as they say, was history.

---

Those who do not learn from history, are condemned to repeat it. He'd heard that somewhere once, and now he was lying here, unable to move, the pain so acute that it was hard to even think. The demon in him couldn't understand why it had been caged. It knew what it needed. It needed blood. The physical drive overrode Spike's ability to reason. Trapped, in this useless husk, he was slowly going mad.

The scent of blood seeped into his brain. And, not just any blood. Slayer blood. A Slayer was near. He could hear her breathing, her heartbeat pounding its steady rhythm against the inside of his skull. How had she gotten this close? He had to get up and fight, or he would be dust. But, the weight of his body kept him down.

"...We've tracked her to Africa. She killed a demon there who, it's rumored, grants restoration to those demons strong enough to endure the trials."

How had this annoying little gnat survived this long? Take her. Rip her throat out and drain her before she can blink, it's what you do. The demon roared, its teeth tearing the top off of his head in its fury. Run little girl, it screamed, before I tear you up!

Spike fought the nausea that welled up in him, trying to let Buffy's voice anchor him, "...Then there were some sightings in Nepal. A missionary settlement there was slaughtered. Only one little girl survived..."

Buffy stopped speaking when she felt a feral growl reverberate through her body, "Spike," she asked, alarmed, "you still with me?"

---

He knew that there was a little girl somewhere in the house. He could hear the rapid tap, tap, tap, of her heartbeat. He stopped for a moment, becoming still, letting the little girl's body tell him where it was she was hiding.

Then, he heard a tiny sigh, coming from the direction of the coal bin. He turned, silently, letting his human mask shift back into place, he slowly opened the little door, "Oh, hello," he said softly, "What are you doing in there?"

"Is the monster gone?" she asked, her eyes wide with fright and her face wet with tears.

Spike smiled his sweetest smile, "Do I look like a monster to you?"

She shook her head. Children are so trusting, Spike thought.

"Where are your Mummy and Daddy?"

"I think the monster ate them," she squeaked.

"Oh," Spike said, his voice concerned, "Well then we had better get you out of here, hadn't we? Before the monster comes back?"

The girl nodded.

"My name is William," he said, "What can I call you?"

"My name is Jane."

Jane was the sweetest little morsel he'd ever tasted. Just thinking about her sweet blood made him mad with need.

Buffy's body had gone tight as a bowstring, every nerve fiber in her straining to hear a response from Spike. She had been waiting, for what seemed like an eternity, with her teeth on edge, and still there was nothing. Had he slipped so far down under the pain that he couldn't find his way back to the surface? Had she lost him to it? She tried again, "Spike?" she ventured, "Are you still with me?"

The response was slow and groggy. Yes. I'm here. Demon's been tripping me down memory lane, is all. It's been a bumpy trip.

Buffy became concerned, "Is there something I can do?"

You feeling up to this, Love? I know you must be tired, but I need...

She shook her head, trying to keep the fact that she was crying, from showing itself in her voice, "Whatever you need, Spike. I'll do it."

Just feeling a bit peckish.

Buffy looked at his slowly healing body. It looked so much better than it had two months ago. The skin around his throat had repaired itself. It wouldn't be long now, until she would actually hear his voice again, and with Angel trying to atone for his actions by tracking Drusilla, it wouldn't be long until he was as perfect to everyone else as he appeared to be to her.

As she fingered the pink, raised mark across her palm, she smiled and said, " I told you, whatever you need, I want to give you."

---

Buffy shivered. She drew her knees up next to her chest, trying to stay warm. I must have left the window open, she thought, and opened her eyes. To almost total darkness; and, she wasn't lying on a bed, she was lying on the floor, of a crypt.

Oh, shit, she thought, I must have passed out after...she tried to get her bearings, "Spike?" she asked, scrambling up from her hands and knees.

"Right here, Love," he croaked. Then, inside her head, Buffy heard, Bloody Hell, remind me not to do that again. It feels like I swallowed a liter of holy water!

But, Buffy hadn't heard the quip. She was still focused on the first three words, "Spike," she whispered, in awe, "You spoke! With actual words, with syllables and everything," she was grinning ear-to-ear, "It's so good to hear your voice!"

"Shut...Up...Spike," he rasped, his voice barely audible in the silent vault.

Buffy strode up near the end of the bier that his head rested on, positioned herself so that she could stare down into his burned, yet strangely beautiful face, and said, "When have you ever listened to what I said, Spike," she smirked, and then added, "And why the 'Bloody Hell' would you start now?"

"Watch...your...mouth."

"Not right now," she grinned, "Too busy watching yours."

Something that sounded suspiciously like a growl came from his throat. Buffy would have sworn, at that moment, that today was Christmas, the Fourth of July, and her birthday, all rolled up in one. She pumped the air with her fist, bouncing on her toes, she hissed, "Yes! Was that a growl? It was, wasn't it," Buffy was so excited she could barely hold herself down, "Oh my God, I've died and gone to heaven!"

In her head she heard, Take it easy, Love. If I had known you were this easy to please, I would have grumbled a long time ago.

"Don't stop on my account," she said, she waved her hands toward the roof, "Shout the roof down, if you want to," she looked up at the ceiling and winced, "On second thought, better to not do that just now. Wait until I tell everyone! Dawn will flip!"

Everyone? Bit's here? When did that happen?

"While you were sleeping," she said quickly, as she left to spread the news, "It's a whole, big thing. I'll explain later, I promise. Back in a flash," she breathed, and then yelled, "I love you, Spike!"

---

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

"That's right, Giles. I need all the info you've got on the Dufarn'k. I think they have some sort of paralyzing venom. I also need you to see what you can dig up on the Yarnesh," she listened for a moment, "No, those are the ones that got in a few swipes at him with their talons. I told you, most of his clothes were either burned off of him, or they're in his skin right now, do you really want me to dig more holes in him just so you'll have something to test? I'm not going to hurt him," she sniffled and sighed, "Not anymore," Buffy held the receiver away from her mouth and asked Angel, "Any others?"

"The Sulvolte."

"Right. Giles, I think Riley knows something about the Sulvolte," she grimaced at he memory of Riley tossing a grenade down into Spike's bedchamber, and blowing it to bits, "Thanks, Giles. Tell Dawn a plane ticket is waiting for her at the airport. Bye," Buffy said, as she hung up the phone.

"Riley actually agreed to help?" Angel asked.

She nodded curtly, "He did. After I told him that helping Spike would piss you off? He was all for it. He hates you more than Xander does."

"Ouch," Angel grumbled.

"Yeah," Buffy said, "well, payback's a bitch."

Buffy sagged down into the desk chair that was in the small hotel room she had rented. Sitting in an underground crypt, imagining all the pain Spike must be going through, was not helping her problem solving skills. Illyria was on watch over Spike until Buffy could call in the cavalry to help locate Drusilla.

Buffy had resisted calling any of them, at first. After all, she hadn't really worked, or played, with any of them, for so long, she was afraid they might say no. She was even afraid that Dawn would think she'd gone bonkers when she told her that Spike was "alive" again, and that he needed her help. Instead, Dawn just broke down into tears, begged Buffy to tell Spike she was sorry, and that she loved him, and asked for a ticket on the first flight out.

After some initial shock, which rendered Xander, temporarily, speechless, he'd said to Buffy, "Anybody who'll go to the mat, for me, like he did, I can watch his back when it needs watchin'."

Willow said that she would offer to do a locator spell to help find Drusilla, but she knew that Spike didn't trust magic all that much, so she would only do the spell as a last resort.

Buffy smiled, and shook her head, sighing, "What a difference a year makes. I think we all finally realized, we're not in high school anymore."

Three days later, the gang was all assembled. Willow had even come, complete with laptop and direct satellite linkup, ready for hacker action. Giles had access to the new Council's resources, which was a given, considering he was the head of the entire operation. And Dawn was in charge of the scientific parts of the investigation. That honor would have gone to Miss Blue Bonnet, but it seemed, sadly, that there was not enough of Winifred Burkle left in her, to allow her to operate a microscope safely. So, Dawn got that job.

Dawn's first assignment was to find out why two months of a steady diet of Slayer's blood still left Spike looking like a toasted marshmallow. It wasn't that the blood wasn't working, it just wasn't working fast enough to suit the Summers girls.

Dawn had snuck down, under the church, to see him once. That gave her all the motivation she needed. She wanted to make him better so she could tell Spike, to his face, how sorry she was, especially now, about threatening to set him on fire. She loved him so much, and hoped, that, maybe, one day he would forgive her.

Angel caught Dawn, while she was on her way back up to the church sanctuary and asked her, "Why did you all rally around Spike so quickly? I asked for help, when Fred got sick, and not one of you came to help. Why now?"

Dawn tried to decide if he was actually serious before she answered his question, "Do you really want to know?" she asked.

"Yes."

Dawn tilted her head to the side, in thought, "I don't know, Angel, maybe it's because, once he thought of us as his friends, he never tried to eat any of us," she paused, and then added, "with or without a soul," Dawn left Angel in the middle of the dark passageway, and went up into the sanctuary to light a candle for Spike.

---

As Buffy walked back into the burial chamber, she said, over her shoulder, to her friends waiting outside, "Now remember, only one at a time. I'll see if he's ready for visitors, first. Also, he's not ready for big words yet..."

Xander interrupted, "Then, if he's not yapping constantly, how will we know it's really him?"

Buffy continued, "I can sort of hear him, in my head. I can relay any message, if he's feeling really talkative. As long as it's not too...private," Buffy said, blushing.

"What do you mean, private?" Xander asked.

Buffy just rolled her eyes at him.

Xander took the hint, "Shutting up now."

Buffy walked the rest of the way into the chamber, while the others lingered near the archway, waiting to be called in, "Are you ready for visitors, Spike? There're a bunch of people who want to see you."

"Yes," Spike choked.

"Anyone, in particular, you want to talk to first?" Buffy asked.

The answer came loud and clear in her head, I want to see Nibblet, first.

Buffy smiled, "Thought so. Dawn, could you come in here, please?"

Dawn shuffled, slowly into the room. She was suddenly nervous. She hadn't seen him in a year, what would she say to him? How would she apologize? She stopped twenty feet from Buffy and Spike, frozen with fear, or maybe it was hope.

Buffy smiled, knowing exactly how her sister was feeling, "You have to get up really close to be able to hear him. His voice is just a whisper right now, but he can hear you and he understands what you say."

Dawn inched closer, until her sneakers just touched the stone support he was lying on, "Hi, Spike," she whispered, starting to cry, "I missed you, so much," she bit back a sob as she waited to hear him.

It was slow in coming, but Dawn heard her friend and protector tell her, "Miss... You...Too," a raspy breath, and for a second Dawn thought she'd hurt him, until he finished with, "Not... Cry."

"Okay," she sniffed, "I won't," and slowly walked out of the room.

Xander was next, "So, dead man, hear you're telling tales. Isn't that against the rules?"

"Bug... Off...Bite...You..."

Xander grinned, smugly, "I know. I'm very bitable."

In Buffy's head came the retort, Oh, yeah, you're a nummy treat.

Buffy smiled, "He called you a 'Nummy treat.'"

Xander nodded, "That's Spike, all right!"

Willow came next, "Hi, Spike."

"Lo...R..red."

Buffy was just about to call Giles in when Spike stopped her. He sounded a little out of breath, if he needed to breathe, Love, can we stop now, just for a bit?

"Sure, Spike." Buffy said, waving Giles away, "Are you tired?"

No. Just starting to feel a little like George Bailey.

She had no frame of reference for that name, she turned to the others, "He says he feels like George Bailey," she watched the others smile, "Who's George Bailey?" she asked.

---

Angel sat on the hard, utilitarian seats of the HC-130 "Troop Mover" aircraft listening to the deafening rumble of its engines, grateful that this type of aircraft had no windows. Therefore, there was no need for him to worry about exposure to sunlight as he poured over the maps, he and Riley had drawn up, while trying to track Drusilla. The attacks made absolutely no sense. There was no rhyme or reason to them. But then, there wasn't always rhyme or reason to anything Drusilla did. He could never understand her. He didn't have the patience for her. That was why she'd made William in the first place. As something to play with when her "Daddy" grew tired of her, and Angel had been glad for it. That meant Drusilla wouldn't slow him down. William was always there to take her off of his hands. But, William knew that Drusilla wasn't his, not really. Angel made sure of that.

Now, he wished Spike were here to help him make something coherent out of all this randomness. Angel didn't want to be wrong again; didn't want to be late. Not when so much was hanging in the balance. He needed something he could count on.

But then, that night he had counted on Spike, and Spike came through, with flying colors, just as Angel knew he would. And, now, the very fact that Spike could be counted on to behave, just as he had, left Angel sitting here, questioning his very definition of the word loyalty.

He looked up from the papers, full of lines that crisscrossed this way and that, said to Riley, " Have the pilot radio that we're requesting permission to land at Cleveland," he took in Riley's questioning gaze, " I think Wood and Faith may be Drusilla's next targets."

---

After Buffy had ushered her friends out, she came back to Spike, "You should have just said you were tired. We all would have understood that."

"Not, he whispered.

Buffy was concerned, "Then, what is it?"

She waited for an answer, but nothing came, either verbally, or otherwise. Then she felt the wave of disgust, fear, anger, and, hunger swamp her like a tidal wave. She felt her mouth water from the hunger, and then, the disgust she felt made her want to vomit. She swallowed hard, "Spike, it's all right if you're hungry," she soothed, biting her lip, "We all kind of expected that you might be. It's all right," she nodded, wishing she could touch his face and reassure him, "Really, it is."

Spike struggled to find words small enough that he could speak them without causing himself pain, but large enough to convey his meaning, and the seriousness of it, "No...Not...You...Smell...Food!"

Buffy understood what he meant, but tried to lighten the mood, "You want to eat me," she sighed, " That's right, you didn't hear the cookie dough speech did you?"

"Not. Fun, "Spike hissed.

"You're right," Buffy agreed, "It's not funny," Buffy did not want to tell him that, she'd prepared, under great noise and protest, for this day, the day that, despite William's valiant efforts not to let it be so, his demon would see her, and her friends, as nothing more than food. Buffy took a deep breath, and heaved a sigh, she knew that once Spike was on his feet again, they were going to have a good old fashioned, knock down, drag out, lover's quarrel, over what she had done, but, at least, she would be alive to have that quarrel, "That's why, it's been taken care of."

"What?" Spike asked.

---

"No, absolutely not," Buffy shouted, pacing the hotel room floor again, "I won't do that. Spike would see it as a humiliation, a betrayal of what I told him, Angel," she paused to catch her breath, "Only a month ago, I found out he still existed. Angel, do you even comprehend what that feels like? To know that someone you love with all your soul, someone you thought was gone, is still here, and that, despite, literal, hellfire and dragons, he still loves you?"

Angel searched his heart. After Buffy came back from the dead, he should have felt that. He should, at least know what the feeling was like, even if he didn't feel it now, but he didn't. He searched the place where his soul kept Buffy locked away, for safekeeping, and found that the feeling she was describing, the feeling he should have felt for her, for anyone, wasn't there, "No." he said.

She stumbled on the words, not knowing how to make him understand what she finally, finally, understood. A thing that Spike had always known, "It's the greatest feeling, Angel," she knelt by the side of Angel's chair, "It makes you ten feet tall, when, really, you're only five. It makes you strut, when without it, you'd just be limping," Buffy smiled, thinking of Spike's bright, clear, eyes, and said, in a far away voice, "It makes you big, and it makes you bad, and good, all at the same time," she let out a calming breath, "Angel, don't you see, that doing this, would take that all away from me?" She stood up again, "It would rip him, and me, apart. Is that what you want?"

"No. But, I also don't want him tearing your throat out while Riley and I chase after Dru. Trust me, I'm looking out for the both of you when I suggest this. If, by some chance, we find Drusilla, and bring her back here, and Spike gets through this, if he found out he'd hurt you, even killed you, or someone you cared about, while he wasn't in control of himself, do you know what that would do to him, Buffy?"

Buffy could already feel Spike's love withdrawing from her, "What do I have to do, Angel?"

"Spike is a submissive," Angel said, "It wouldn't take much, just enough to let the demon know that you belong to me, and he can't touch you."

Buffy sputtered, "Submissive? Angel, have you met Spike, lately?"

"I didn't mean sexually," Angel sighed, "And, for the love of God, don't tell me. I meant, in terms of the pack-like mentality vampires have. On those terms, and this is not meant as an insult to you, or to him," Angel paused, "Buffy, the pack-like behavior, is one of the reasons he stayed here for a year, and didn't come to you. He didn't come, at least in part, because I told him not to. Buffy, I'm the Alpha male. Spike is the runt."

"Are you saying, that if I let you mark me, then Spike's demon would have to let me live?"

"Yes," Angel said, "Until I gave it permission to kill you," he saw Buffy's eyes widen, "Which I will not give. I won't take enough to make you pass out. But, if you'd feel more comfortable, Illyria is just outside, I can call her in, she is more than capable of taking me down, if I get out of hand."

"Yes, Angel, call her in." Buffy said.

---

Buffy was crying, not sure how Spike would react to the news that essentially, he had been made a cuckold, by Angel, "Spike, This doesn't mean that I don't love you. If anything, it proves that I love you more than anything else in the entire world. I just didn't want you to have to spend energy worrying about my safety. I just want you to know that I still love you, Spike. Please, don't be angry."

Buffy felt a warmth radiating from inside her, that started at the top of her head and ended at the tips of her toes, it made her feel flush. Had she just been given a psychic hug?

I'm not mad, Buffy. I'm glad of it. Now, I don't have to worry.

---

The mysterious woman that had stowed away on the steel barge, left the ship, as it docked, briefly, off the shores of Lake Erie, near Cleveland, Ohio.

Some people, in the know, called Cleveland a Hellmouth, others called it home.

As she stepped into the night, the woman whispered on the wind, "Don't worry, William, Mummy will make everything right again."

Chapter Six

As Angel and Riley waited out the thunderstorm that was preventing their landing in Cleveland, Angel tried to telephone Robin and Faith, to warn them that Drusilla might be on her way, but he got no answer. He thought about phoning the police, but what could they do? Humans never really believed that creatures like him and Drusilla existed. In the movies, sure, why not? As plastic and makeup on Halloween night? Sure, they'd seen that, but, real? No. The minute he walked into the precinct downtown and opened his mouth, they would lock him in a padded cell, and throw away the key. And then he would be no help to Faith, Robin, Buffy, or Spike.

And, ironically, wanting to help Spike was how the whole thing started.

It all started the night they had the fight over the cup, in the old opera house. Spike had been so passionate and so sure of his place that Angel, almost, envied him. There was so much fire in his eyes, that even he was warmed by its glow. During the fight, somewhere between getting his face bashed in with a cross, and falling over the balcony, it came to him, Spike wanted this, really wanted it. Not just for Buffy, like he'd said, but for himself. Angel remembered wanting to laugh, but his ribs had been broken, so he couldn't. It's just as well, he'd thought, Spike will only think I'm mocking him, but I'm not. I actually want to congratulate him on doing the right thing. He wasn't fighting because he knew that there was a shiny reward at the end of the rainbow, he fought, even before he believed in the fairy tale, because he wanted to, and because it was right. Angel knew, at that moment that it wasn't for him, this reward, and no amount of commiserating with Gunn was going to change the facts, and lawyers dealt in facts, didn't they? The fact was; Spike deserved it more. And Angel was going to move heaven and earth to make it happen for him. If he couldn't watch out for Connor, he would make sure Spike would be all right.

---

Dawn bit her lip, as the needle went in, listening for any hint of pain, "Sorry, Spike, but I have to draw some blood. Buffy and I need to figure out why you still look like you did after Buffy dropped that organ on your head," she looked up at Spike's face quickly ashamed that she'd reminded him how he looked, "Sorry, Spike. I didn't mean to remind you of ..."

"Dru?" he asked.

Dawn was happy to hear him talking again. At first, when he could only whisper, Dawn had to admit, it was, just a little, creepy. But, now, he just sounded like he was just getting over a bad case of laryngitis. He could respond using whole sentences now. That meant that she could ask him questions, and get real answers, which was good, considering that Spike still wasn't able to move without help. Which was why she needed the blood sample to test. "Yeah, sorry."

"Would you stop saying that, Bit? You're driving me round the bloody bend, here! Nothing you need to be sorry for. Besides, been thinking about her myself, so why not have you tag along, too? At least then, I've got some company. It's a bit lonely in this old noggin of mine these days, what with Buffy in research mode."

"That should be enough," Dawn said, sliding the needle out, and placing a cotton ball, and tape, over the small dot of blood that bubbled up, near his elbow, "Did that hurt?"

"Yes," he said honestly, "but then, so does everything else. Why should this be any different?"

"I'm sorry," Dawn said.

"I told you to stop saying that."

Dawn smiled, a wide grin, knowing he still couldn't see her, he wasn't able to open his eyes yet, and said, "Sorry," as she ran to find her microscope, she thought she heard a low rumbling coming from behind her, in the vault.

---

Drusilla knew that the Slayer protected the man she wanted to teach a lesson, so she'd just have to be patient and let him come to her. She also knew how to wait. She had a safe place, near the docks that she could hide in. That was something Spike had taught her, always have an escape plan. She had learned from Angelus, that was true, but sometimes Daddy could be so cross.

She had known that her darling, deadly, boy was in danger ever since the King of Cups had come to her, in a dream, and told her so. The Knave of Spades had nearly pierced William through with his deceit. And, for that, he must pay. Her King of Hearts had made him ashes, but begged her to make it right again, and she would, but for now the schoolmistress has things to learn about the stars and little specks of dust. So, she would wait until it was time. Then, she would take William and set him free.

---

Angel watched as Riley loaded the dart gun, "Are you sure those tranquilizer darts still work," he asked, "Dru is pretty strong. Especially when she thinks she's in danger. I'm telling you, you aim that thing at her, she'll be on you pretty fast," he squinted at Riley, "How good is your aim with that thing?"

"I can still take a hostile at fifty yards, if that's what you're worried about. I have to be certified every year to stay on the squad," Riley double checked the gun sight, to be sure it was clear of dust an debris, and set it down, "If you're worried that I might, accidentally, shoot you instead of her," Angel nodded slightly, "Well then," Riley smiled, "In the military we have a term for that, 'collateral damage.' That's known to civilians as, 'Whoops.'"

Chapter Seven

"So, what was it like?" Dawn asked.

"To what do you refer?" Illyria said.

"I mean, Spike. He helped you, right? That Pavane guy had you by the throat, and even though he could have been here, all the way here, I mean, he still helped you, instead?"

Illyria said nothing. It was starting to give Dawn the willies. "You know what," she said, "Maybe you'd be easier for me to talk to if you didn't look like that."

"You wish me to change my form?"

" Yeah," Dawn nodded, "If you don't mind."

"I do not. I shall do as you wish."

"That's great," Dawn smiled, as the brunette appeared in Illyria's place, "Now tell me. What was it like?" Dawn asked as she looked through her microscope.

The pretty girl chirped, in her Texas accent, "I'd never seen anything like it. He could have been in phase with this reality, all he had to do was jump into the circle at the right time, and, presto, he's all the way back. But he didn't. He pushed Pavane in instead. And Angel locked him up, for good."

"Wow," Dawn whispered.

"Yeah. I told him that that only proved what I 'd been telling everybody."

"What's that," Dawn said as she looked into her microscope.

"That he's worth saving."

Dawn shook her head, "No. I mean, yes, he defiantly is! But," she stepped back from the microscope and let the other girl see what she was looking at, "I mean, what is that?"

"Looks like a parasite."

"See what it's doing to his blood?"

"It appears to be consuming it," Illyria said as she shifted her form.

"See that other, wriggly thing, in the corner," Dawn turned up the gain on the microscope, "I know this from chemistry class. That's what metal looks like, only it's moving. Do you think Spike has some Hellmouth type of lead poisoning?" Dawn didn't wait for an answer, she was racing a thirty second mile down to Spike's chamber.

"Spike! Spike," by the time she reached him, Dawn was panting for breath.

Spike was alarmed. His Bit was in danger, and he couldn't move a muscle, "What is it, Bit?!"

"Think back, after you weren't a ghost, did you drink anything? Maybe from a metal cup?"

"Oh... Bugger! It's that bloody Mountain Dew!"

Chapter Eight

To anyone who came upon Buffy and Giles as they sat in quiet conference, they looked like father and daughter. It was a serene picture. To others around them, Giles looked like a father comforting his daughter through a great sorrow. And, at this precise moment, they were, exactly, what they appeared to be.

"Giles," Buffy stifled a sob in his shoulder, "I don't know what to do. He says he isn't angry. But, how do I know that? If I were Spike, lying there, unable to see or move," Buffy closed her eyes to the image of his battered face and body. It was an image she didn't wish to keep with her, but knew she would never be rid of, for as long as she was on the earth, "Unable to see, and someone told me that my soul mate," she stopped speaking, looking up at Giles with wet eyes, "That's what he is, you know? I finally get it. If someone had even thought about touching my soul mate, I know I wouldn't take it, not even for a second. And yet," Buffy dabbed her eyes, "he hugged me. Giles, I actually felt him hug me. How is that even possible, after everything that's happened?"

Giles bowed his head in consideration, both for the seriousness of her inquiry, and her depth of feeling for a vampire, who he, himself, had greatly, greatly, misjudged. To his own, perhaps, eternal, detriment, "Spike has proven to be quite...remarkable, over the years. I now see that it was my...past experience that blinded me to that, quite obvious, fact. Perhaps this is just another example of his capacity to," Giles choked on the next words, not because he didn't believe in what he was saying, but because of those prior experiences, "care for you?"

Buffy sniffed, "I hope that he knows how much I care for him, Giles. How much I love him."

Giles pulled Buffy into a comforting embrace, "I'm sure he knows, Buffy."

Upstairs, in the church proper, all the congregants began to feel a slight rumbling beneath their feet, some became alarmed, and, thinking an earthquake had hit, got up to run for shelter. Buffy and Giles knew that this was no earthquake under their feet, no this was something much worse, and descended from serenity into chaos.

---

" 'That's not a prize you're holding, Spike. It's a burden. It's a cross,'" Spike yelled, in a gruff approximation of Angel's voice, and continued yelling, "I'll give him a cross! Only question is, which end does he want it shoved into," the intensity of Spike's words rose as Buffy raced the long labyrinth of stone, "Thought you'd burn me to ashes and take Buffy from me, did you? Well, didn't work quite like you'd hoped, did it, Angelus? Still here, burned to a bloody crisp, but I'm still here, you ponce! My demon may be under the delusion that you are in control here, but, unlike you, I have an organ other than my John Thomas! It's called a brain. I know that Buffy loves me! She told me so, and I believe her. You think you've got her just because she has your teeth marks on her neck? Think again!" Buffy reached the archway of the chamber just as his anger and rage lost all its gale, and his voice became a lost, and lonely whimper, "I haven't seen Buffy in four hundred and forty-two days," his voice was strained with emotion, adding to the desperate sound hitting Buffy's ears. Spike seemed to lose hope, and moaned, "And now, thanks to you, I might never see her again."

Buffy looked up to see her sister, Dawn, crying silent tears, as she handed Buffy her latest lab report.

She took it, in her trembling hands, and read what was written, "It's in his blood?"

Dawn nodded, mutely.

As Buffy read on, her jaw fell open, in shock, "It's reacting to my blood. Human hemoglobin, that's what this thing eats?" Buffy didn't wait for Dawn to answer but continued reading, "The Initiative had this? As part of the 'HST elimination campaign'," Buffy tried to put all the pieces together, "So, in a world full of goodies," Buffy looked at Dawn's stricken face, and knew that the horror on Dawn's face mirrored her own, "vampires starve to death."

Dawn nodded again.

"But, the Initiative was shut down, how did...?

"Willow hacked into some old government files that were, recently, declassified, because the Senator mentioned in them, is dead."

"Which Senator?"

"Senator Brucker," Dawn bit her lip, "Buffy the Senator gave the last vile of the serum to a man named Lindsey McDonald. He was supposed to use it to kill Angel, as part of his initiation into The Circle of Black Thorn."

"And, the Senator?"

Dawn nodded, "Buffy, Senator Brucker was a member of The Circle of Black Thorn."

Buffy wanted to vomit, "Oh, God," she gasped, and rushed in to see Spike. His eyes were closed, and his face calm, his voice, however, held a timber of sorrow in it that Buffy had never heard before, the hollowness of it made her lose her breath as she listened to his soul lament her.

... "Sunshine. I've lost my sunshine. Forever."

Buffy looked at Dawn in shock, "You told Spike about this?"

Dawn whimpered, "I couldn't lie, Buffy. Not to him."

Right now, Spike needed something to focus on, other than the grim news from that report. So, putting on her best "Buffy hates Spike" tone, she snapped, "Spike! When's the last time, other than the past two months, you've had human blood?"

His answer was clear, "You're the first since before the Hellmouth closed."

"After your injuries, who fed you? Has anyone fed you except me?

"No."

"Angel didn't feed you, why?"

"He said he tried, but, as he isn't my blood sire, it didn't take."

Buffy looked for Dawn, who was hanging on her every word, near the outer edge of the crypt, "Dawn," she said, " I think there's a homeless shelter, or a convent, adjacent to the church grounds. See if you can find some blankets and something to put something in, like a bowl. If you have to, stand in line for soup. But hurry. "

"I'm on it," Dawn said, as she rushed out.

Spike's voice was puzzled, "Buffy what are you doing?"

Spike could hear Buffy moving around the vault as she spoke, "Spike, how long can a vampire go on without feeding on blood, at all?"

"If he's healthy, sometimes months. In the case of injury," Spike remembered all the anxious hours he spent, doing nothing but counting nights and watching Drusilla slip further and further away from him, "Ten weeks."

"Ten weeks from today?"

"Yes."

Buffy looked at her watch, "Today is August 2nd. That gives us until October 16th to find Dru," she smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see her, "Piece of pineapple."

Spike sighed, "Cake, Love. It's cake."

---

As Roberta closed up her little magic shop, "Pandora's Box," she wondered about the strange woman who was her last customer, before closing. She seemed so pale, Roberta thought that maybe she was ill, or crazy, after all, there was an asylum just over the hill. Roberta shook her head, as she closed out the cash register. No one ever asks for an Orb of Thesula anymore. The woman was lucky she still had one in stock.

Chapter Nine

Robin Wood decided to take one last sweep of the docks, before meeting up with Faith after her sweeps of the cemeteries. He wanted to get home before the light rain became a downpour. He was just about to turn and head for Faith, when he saw her, huddled near the edge of the pier, and it looked as if she was crying.

"My boy has drowned," she was saying, "He's gone away and I can't find him."

Robin approached her, cautiously, "Is there something I can do?"

"Why yes," Drusilla said, as she looked up, "Bad boy. You, lion cub, should know better than to wander from your lioness."

Before Robin had a chance to think about how, and why, it happened, Drusilla's fangs were in his neck, and all of his lifeblood was drained.

---

Dawn came back to the crypt, breathless, but with, blankets and bowl, minus the pea soup, in hand, "Buffy, I have what you wanted!"

"Good," Buffy said, "Now, spread one of the blankets on the floor."

Dawn didn't question, she just unfurled the blanket with a soft snap of the wool, and spread it on the floor, "Done. Now what?"

Spike was curious, if not mildly alarmed by the movement around him. Yeah, now what, Love, he thought.

"Now, I need you to help me get Spike down from there, and on to the floor. Dawn, take his feet."

As Spike felt little hands grasping his feet and shoulders, and his body begin to sway, he asked, "Buffy, what are you doing?"

"Spike, this thing in you, it bonded to the blood I gave you," she gave a wicked grin that she knew he would be able to hear from her tone, "I gave it to you, so, I can take it back."

As Spike felt his body touch solid ground again, he screamed, as loud as his weakling voice would allow, "No, Buffy! This thing, it's in me, if it got inside you? Buffy, you could die!"

Buffy's voice wavered a little, "So could you, again. I thought you were clear on how I wasn't going to let that happen again."

His voice was firm, "No, Buffy, I won't let you do it!"

Buffy sighed, exasperated, "We've been over this, haven't we? But, in case you didn't hear me the first time, stop me!"

"Buffy, No!"

Buffy knelt down next to Spike, placed the bowl on the floor next to her knees, and said, "It'll be okay, Spike. This is just like snakebite. I finally get to use some of the training I learned from Riley, who knew he'd actually help save your life?"

The point of her pocketknife went into the flesh of his neck opening the vain. She watched the blood bubble up and spill out onto his neck, she leaned over, and whispered into his ear, "I'm just going to give you a little kiss, Spike. It won't hurt a bit."

As she bent down to kiss his neck, the world went away.

Love. Hate. Fear. Rage. Ecstasy. Bliss. Cecily. Sorrow. Tear, rip, break, and destroy. Watch the blood flow, crimson and bright. Dru. So happy. Spinning. Whirling in her bright darkness, tumbling down, and down still more. The light. The light in the dark. So strong. Reach up to the light, need the light. The light hurts. Must keep on reaching, always reaching. Climbing up and up then sliding down. Pushed down, by the light. The light doesn't know me, but I know her. I love her. So tired. Buffy. Love you. So bright and shining. My sunshine beam. Look at you, so happy, so sad, so full of pain and Love, I love you. Do you see me? The pain. You're so small, Love where did you go? I'll save you. Hit me. Pain. There's my bright girl. Hit me again. Let me take the dark. You need the light. You don't need me, I need you. No, don't go! Go, fly away! Buffy, want me. Please. Love you. Need you. Love you. Where did you go? Love you. Need you. Buffy. Burning. Afraid. I'm afraid of the dark. Need the light. Need to see the light. Where did it go? Buffy, where are you? Too dark. Buffy! Buffy! Buffy!

In a dizzy haze Buffy cleaned the small wound in his neck, passed Dawn the bowl full of blood, and lain down next to him holding on as fierce as she dared. She thought she heard a choked whisper, "Buffy," as she drifted into sleep.

---

Angel hadn't been to Cleveland since he'd tracked that Boritz demon to Kingsburry Run. He thought he could help. Elliot Ness could track a Boritz all on his own. Fine, Elliot Ness. You do that.

Now, he was back, in a nightclub, with a name that couldn't scream 'Hellmouth' any louder if it tried. "Howl at the Moon''? Were they kidding?

"Have you seen this woman?" he asked the bartender, showing him an old photo of Drusilla.

"Yeah," he nodded, " about a week ago. Gone now, though."

---

Drusilla waited below decks. She just hoped the key was where her boy had left it.

Chapter Ten

Angel sat in the belly of the behemoth of an aircraft, and fumed. He was late again, and what's more, now he had to tell Buffy that someone she had fought with, on the Hellmouth, was dead. All of this because he wanted to, finally, feel the soul he'd been so smug about for one hundred years. After what Buffy told him about what happened in Sunnydale, after spending hours listening to her weep over the loss of Spike, he had tried to reach down inside, to find some kind of comfort to give to her, but there was none.

She'd said that he told her he felt it, his soul, before she'd left him there. Spike, in the end, knew he had a soul. Angel wasn't even sure his was even there anymore. He tried to think back, think of where he'd seen it last, where he'd misplaced it. But, no, it hadn't been misplaced. Angel knew exactly where, and when, he'd lost it. And, he knew whom he'd given it to. Connor. With Connor gone, there seemed no reason to even try anymore.

That was, until Spike whirled out of that amulet, like a demented genie on a mission. Just seeing Spike there was enough to make Angel jealous. Not of Spike, necessarily, but of the fact that, despite losing everything he could possibly lose, Spike's first thoughts weren't for himself. He didn't even bat an eyelash, not that he could, over being a ghost. Didn't mope or sulk at the lot he'd been cast, well, at least not for long, and certainly not for a century, he just launched right into the only things he knew. He knew only two things, and he was proficient in them both, Buffy, and taking the piss out of his curmudgeon of a Grandsire.

Angel would never tell Spike that he envied him for that. Angel would never tell Spike that the reason he put on such a megawatt grump, was because, that was the only way he could keep from crying at the irony he felt inside at wanting to laugh with joy, and stake him for being so damn cheerful, all at the same time. What, and give him more ammunition?

That was why he'd stirred up the trouble with The Circle, to feel the rush of fists and fangs. The comment still rang in Angel's head, "Don't you ever get tired of fights you know you're gonna win?"

Yes, he was. This was a fight Angel had known he was going to lose, even before it started. That's why he signed away the rights to the Shanshu. He didn't want it anymore. Not without Connor. Without him, there was no reason, so, why not give it up? It wasn't his anyway. Angel had just wanted out.

The night of the fight, Angel had set his sights on that dragon, simply because it was the fastest way out, and, he knew that vampires and fire were not a friendly mix. Angel had watched, from the periphery of his vision, Spike, snarling and growling, hacking and slashing away at anything that got between him and Gunn, who he'd chosen to protect. When Spike sensed that Gunn, sadly, no longer needed protecting, Angel noticed Spike's protective stance widen to include Illyria.

Angel almost smiled at the memory of the tiny Victorian poet, Victorian to the last, trying to protect the mighty Illyria, God-king of the premortium, who'd been encased in an even tinier body.

Angel was only half-heartedly in the battle. He took some minor swipes at an Akijahan or two, but he wasn't really committed to it. Spike, on the other hand, jumped in with both feet, both fists, both fangs, and a battleaxe for good measure.

It wouldn't be long now, Angel knew. The dragon had seen him; the glint of his sword had caught its attention. Just like the Tyrannosaurus Rex, it was attracted to movement. Soon, it would all be over, and Spike would have what he deserved, the girl, and the life, all of it.

That was when he'd heard Illyria scream. She'd tried to warn him, but Spike had somehow managed to, simultaneously slash open a Dufarrn'k, while dancing away from the Yarnesh that were nipping at his calves. Angel had to admit, Spike was pretty nimble in a fight. But, not nimble enough to keep the Dufarn'k's blood from splashing up onto his face and neck. What Angel had thought was a cry of pain, had actually been a warning. Spike dove toward Angel, tackling him to the ground, just as the dragon reared its head back.

The next thing Angel saw was a wall of fire, where, only milliseconds before, Spike had been standing.

The next thing he heard, should have been impossible. He heard Spike's voice, in his head, thundering like a sonic boom, the one name that should have been on his lips as well, "Buffy!!" The force and sheer volume of that cry made Angel's teeth rattle in his skull and brought him to his knees.

Then, all was quiet, as Angel realized that somewhere in the soul that was buried under all the regret, he'd recognized his kindred was in agony, and had cried, at the top of his voice, "Enough!"

And, everything had stopped. No demons, no dragons, no nothing, just a horribly mangled piece of flesh that had once been William the Bloody, and a visibly disturbed Illyria. And, then, of course, there was him.

Angel shook off the memory, and tried to focus on where Drusilla might head next. Once his hands stopped shaking, he would call Buffy and the others, and tell them the news of Robin Wood's death.

---

On a rainy night in England, a woman stood in an old convent cemetery. She walked slowly, careful not to disturb the dead. She came upon an old and crumbling stone. The name on it was so weathered that it was, almost, unreadable. Drusilla didn't need to read it, she knew the inscription by heart. The stone read: Sister Mary Michael , B.1835 D. 1860. Underneath the dates, was an inscription, almost as old, lovingly chiseled, twenty-five years after the stone had been erected, secretly by her brave knight: Racing Heavenward. That was what it said. Her boy had left her a love note.

Drusilla smiled as she left her sleeping sisters, and whispered, "Mummy will be home soon."

---

It was Xander's turn to stand watch outside the chamber. Dawn had told him what Buffy had done for Spike. In the past, the very mention of the words "Buffy, Spike, blood," and of course the ever-popular, at least on the Hellmouth, "Sucked," used, together, in the same sentence, would have sent him running for a nicely sharpened stake and some fresh holy water. But, after the things they'd all been through, Xander thought, what's a little blood between friends? Xander smiled to himself, listening to Buffy's soft snoring, which only goes to show how much I've grown, he thought.

Inside the chamber, Buffy busied herself lighting candles along the outer edge. She knew Spike couldn't see, but the dim light was starting to put a strain on her vision, so she'd sent Willow for some, non-magical ,candles.

As far as she could tell, Spike was still sleeping. The ordeal had been hard on them both, but hardest on him, and he needed the rest, so Buffy tried to be as quiet as a church mouse, as she moved about the crypt.

She smiled, at the thought. What do you know, I'm being quiet as a church mouse, in a church, with a sleeping vampire. I should write gothic novels! No one just makes this stuff up.

Just then, she heard Spike's gruff voice, coming from the floor. It sounded as if he might have been in pain, or possibly crying, "Love," he said softly.

The stress in his voice caused her to turn around and ask, "What is it, Spike? Are you in pain? Because I could..."

"No," he whispered softly, the word, almost a prayer.

That's when Buffy noticed it. He was looking at her. His eyes were open, and she could see the most beautiful blue eyes in the world staring, lovingly up at her.

For him, nothing in the universe mattered more than seeing those liquid pools of green, widen, quiver, and then, at last spill over, looking at him. Somehow, he managed to make his brain work long enough to utter the words that he had wanted to say for over a year, "Love," the words said in whispered worship, "you're beautiful!"

Buffy didn't move. She didn't even dare to breathe. Somehow, time had folded in on itself, and she was back inside the Hellmouth, looking into those incredible blue eyes. Buffy had seen his eyebrow quirk, ever so slightly, and his mouth form the small little smirk, that always told her that he knew she was lying, but he wouldn't ruin the game. The game was too much fun to quit now. He looked at her with all the hope and all the pain that could ever be on one man's face, and rasped out, as if saying it louder would wreck the beautiful dream he had constructed for himself, "No, you don't. But, thanks for saying it."

"No," she had wanted to scream, "This time I mean it! I really, really, mean it this time. This isn't a game!" Instead, she kept silent and let him push her away. Buffy had raced along crumbling rooftops, the memory of his eyes urging her to go faster, and faster. Pushing her, until she was standing, safely at the crater's edge, watching that stupid,"Welcome to Sunnydale" sign teeter, and topple over for the last time.

She'd smiled because she knew he'd been the one to push it over. Of course he would. No one else had the right to do that.

"Buffy," his voice was grinning, "Now, I don't need to, being dead and all, but, the last time I checked, humans, like you, my beautiful, beautiful, Slayer, need to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh huh," she sighed.

"Good. Now, are your legs all right?"

"Yeah."

"Then," his eyes were shining, "I need you to come towards me a bit, and to your left."

Buffy shook her head, a little confused, "What? Why?"

"Because, Goldilocks, if your blood pressure continues to drop, like it has for the last ninety seconds, you're gonna faint. And, I don't want you to hurt that pretty little noggin of yours on the concrete. Also, although, normally, I'd say, 'Have at it,' right now, I can't catch you, so, I don't want you to fall on top of me."

"Oh," she said, as she slowly made her legs do as he instructed, "Thanks," she said, and promptly fell to her knees.

---

Buffy stirred a little, the memory of the pleasant dream still in her mind. She reached out behind her with the fingers of one hand, and found Spike's still form, next to her on the blanket. At least that part wasn't a dream, she thought.

Lying next to Buffy, Spike was enjoying the little pinpoints of fire that broke out on his skin where she was touching him, " Hello, Buffy," he cooed, "Do you think you can get up now? I think the candles have gotten a bit low. Even though I am loathe to ask you to ever leave my side, I think perhaps it would be best if they were snuffed out."

Squinting in confusion, Buffy rolled toward Spike. Her plan must have started to work, because even though his face was still very burned, now, at least, she could see his cheekbones starting to redefine themselves. The skin that had grown in was kind of a pinkish color, like a newborn baby's, and that gave Spike a very lifelike appearance. She propped herself up on her elbow, first looking at the candles, which were, in fact getting low, then at him, "How did you know the candles were.... Oh," she said.

Spike blinked, and Buffy noticed the skin that had started to grow where his eyebrows would eventually be, shifted upward, ever so slightly, he smiled at her, "Eyes like a hawk, Slayer," there was a ghost of the mischievous smirk on his lips, "All the better to see you with."

Buffy balked, "Spike, can you see me?"

Spike's tone was teasing, but joyful, "Is there someone you'd rather I look at, Slayer?"

"No," Buffy squeaked, excitedly, "Absolutely not."

"That works out nicely then," Spike chuckled, "Because I am not taking my eyes off of your beautiful face for the next fifty years, no matter what you say. So, you had best just clear that jam packed social calendar of yours, all right?"

Buffy closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning again. She just couldn't believe how blessed she was. Her dreams, all of them, were coming true. Some, not as fast as she would have liked; but they were still coming true. The one that she never thought she'd ever see again, the one who's eyes were the truest things in the entire world, was looking at her with so much love, that when she finally opened her eyes again, and Spike was still looking at her, patiently waiting for her to speak, Buffy couldn't help but giggle.

That sound, that tiny, little sound, hit Spike's ears like a thousand cathedral bells, ringing all at once. That sound shot straight to his heart, and, if he did not know better, he would have sworn that it had started beating again. He watched, happily, as Buffy's little button nose crinkled up, and the sound escaped again.

Buffy's fingers ached to touch him. She bit her lip, unsure, afraid she might hurt him, "Can I...?" she asked.

"Please," Spike breathed, eyes closed in anticipation.

"It won't hurt?" Buffy asked.

Spike's voice was a breathless whisper, "No. Buffy, please, I don't want to sound like a silly schoolboy with a crush on the Homecoming queen, but, please kiss me?"

Buffy leaned over Spike, and tenderly touched her lips to his mouth. The skin that should have felt leather-like, because of the trauma to his face, instead felt as soft as rose petals. It had been so long since she had kissed him, in anything other than a dream, that just having him this close, this real, made her head spin.

Her fingers began to dance around the skin of his face. She could feel her fingers sink down in to explore the arch of his cheekbones. Buffy then became bolder and her fingertips touched the soft curves of his eyelids, sliding down to discover the baby fine wisps that were his eyelashes. Her heart leapt with joy, knowing that behind the safe protection of those eyelids, were the eyes of her soul mate. Eyes that would, always, and forever, love her. Eyes that had once, and now could again, see her, down to her very soul. Spike had seen her at her best, he'd seen her at her worst, and he never flinched, never looked away, and he, honestly loved her al the more for her faults, and in spite of them, than she had ever thought it was possible to be loved.

Spike was trying hard to remain grounded, remain focused on Buffy. He focused on the streaks of flame her fingertips left on his face. She was so warm, and soft, and giving, that Spike almost had to pinch himself to remind himself that it wasn't a dream. Except, he couldn't pinch himself, so he just let the warmth of a touch he'd been so long without, glide over his face and eyes, and seep into his bones, warming him from the inside out. He felt his heart swell in his chest, and knew, that if Buffy hadn't been there to tether him down, he felt certain he would float right to the ceiling, and he wasn't sure he would have been able to stop there, if she didn't stop kissing him, right now, he would float out into the stratosphere, and never come back down. Oh, God, Buffy, please don't stop! Don't ever stop! I love you! God, Buffy, I love you so!

Just then, they heard a polite cough coming from the archway, "I hate to break up the lovebirds," Xander said, "But Angel's own the phone. He says it's important."

As Buffy's lips left his, Spike almost whimpered from the loss, "Harris," he growled, "Anyone ever tell you you're a Hell of a buzz kill, mate?"

---

As Drusilla walked the quiet cobblestone streets of Prague, she remembered how loving William had been during those long nights when all she could see was the pain; the pain was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She knew that her bright boy was in pain now, and needed her, soon.

She had to be certain everything was ready.

Chapter Eleven

Drusilla held the little trinket lightly in her hands. If she twisted her wrist just so, she could see the starlight twinkle inside. The way the light played tag in the small sphere, it was difficult to believe that something so big and so important could ever fit inside such a tiny space. Drusilla thought, perhaps, if she smashed the bauble against the cobblestones beneath her feet, she would be able to catch it, like she had caught the firebugs in a jar when she was a child. If she could catch it, then it would be hers to keep, for always and ever.

William was always so good at hunting the things she had lost. If it were to be found, William would help her find it, just as he always had.

Drusilla remembered asking her Daddy once, soon after William came to live with them, where it had gone. He had become cross, and told her that it had flown away, just like her other birds, and wouldn't sing for her anymore.

Hours later, William had come home, wrapped her up lovingly in his arms, and whispered, "Hush now, princess," William said, kissing her brow, "Would a lion be punished for simply being a lion?"

Drusilla sighed and said, "No."

William smiled, "Princess, if a lion is being just that, a lion, if she is being a hunter, and the antelope her prey, and the lioness hunts and kills its prey, so that she, and her cubs, survive, does that make the lioness evil, for having ate the antelope, or the antelope good?"

Drusilla shook her head, "No," she whimpered, the tears coming up again.

"And, if the antelope had done nothing else, in its entire life, except be food for the lioness, where would the antelope be?" he asked, kissing her temple lightly.

"I do not know," Drusilla wailed, "Daddy will not tell me where it has flown to!"

William turned her in his arms so that he could look into her eyes, "Ah, but Drusilla, that is, perhaps, because Daddy does not, indeed, know where it has gone," he bit his lip in thought, then his eyes twinkled like starlight, and he said, "But, I believe that I may know where it has gone!"

"You do," she asked, "Oh, goody," she clapped her hands with delight, "Please tell me, so that I can find it!"

"I shall show you, princess. Tomorrow night, come with me to the cemetery, and I will show you."

And, William did show her. On the grave marker, in the convent cemetery, the next night, was the message: Racing Heavenward. It made Drusilla happy, beyond words, to know that William had known where to find her lost treasure. And, surly, if William needed her help, her Daddy could give back what he had taken from her. Surly, he would let her have her songbird back so that she could sing with the angels.

---

Buffy took the cell phone from Xander, "What is it," Buffy asked, her voice small, and tight with worry, "and hurry it up, because I really should get back to Spike," she held the phone away from her mouth, "Xander, will you go check on him please?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, heading down the long passageway to the chamber.

As Xander made his way, slowly through the dark and winding maze, he thought of another night, almost like this one, three weeks ago. He'd been embarrassed, having to interrupt two people who were obviously in love with one another, to relay a message about Robin Wood's death. Seeing Buffy and Spike together, like that, made him feel a pang of guilt over Anya.

When Buffy left the chamber to take the call, Spike had asked him to stay, because, he had something he wanted to tell him.

Xander looked, nervously, down at Spike. Spike sounded tired as he said, "Take it easy, Harris, I'm not going to bite you," his eyes moved up to follow the direction in which, Buffy had just left, "But if you tell Buffy any of what I'm about to say to you, I just might make an exception, got it?"

"Got it," Xander said.

"Good. Harris, that kiss just now? It hurt like Hell, but I wouldn't dream of hurting Buffy by telling her that. I also know that, without human blood, this is gonna get bad, Harris. Do you follow me?"

"Yeah."

"So bad, that Buffy might have to make a decision she doesn't want to make," Spike closed his eyes, "If it comes to that, if she can't make that decision, if I'm too far gone before Angelus can track Dru, and bring her here, I want you to do it. Understand?" Spike asked, his eyes pleading.

Xander nodded, grimly, "I understand," he said.

"That's settled then. I think I hear her coming," as Buffy reentered the crypt, Spike smiled up at her, and Xander heard him ask Buffy, as he was leaving to go back on watch, "Hello, Sunshine, how was your day at the office?"

Xander winced a little at the artificial cheerfulness. He didn't think he could handle this kind of responsibility. Well, Xander thought, time to grow up.

---

Buffy strode the stone corridors, straining her voice, so as not to disturb Spike in her anger, "Angel, just how long does it take to send condolence flowers to the grieving widow, and get your sorry ass back here," she yelled, listening to his answer, "The funeral was two weeks ago. Are you trying to tell me that Drusilla made an appearance? She didn't? Well, where is she now, because she sure as Hell isn't here," Buffy rolled her eyes in the air at the absurdity of Angel's excuse, "You know, I think Spike was right. I think you are trying to kill him! Hero?! You want to see a hero, get your ass back to Los Angeles, before the only real hero here," Buffy sniffed back her tears. Spike wouldn't want her to cry, not now, "is really gone, and not coming back," Buffy closed the phone, with a loud snap, "Asshole!"

---

The comment Buffy made about heroics made Angel think about the aftermath of the battle that night. He didn't think he would ever forget the sight of Spikes burned body, lying on the asphalt behind the Hyperian Hotel.

Angel had crawled over to him, his fingers trying to determine if Spike was lying face up or face down, and also trying to decide where the best place to take shelter would be, when he heard, very slow, very deliberate, footsteps coming up the alleyway to meet him, He tried to keep his voice steady as he said, "Hang on, Spike, I've got you."

"Well, we knew you'd be a star, but no one in the Home Office bet on this," the voice was gleeful.

Angel looked up to see a man, in a grey business suit and red tie, "Holland Manners," he hissed, "What do you want here!" Angel blinked away the tears that were blinding him.

"To congratulate you, of course! We didn't think you could do it, but you did. You corrupted something that was, nearly, incorruptible," Holland shook his head in grim fascination, "A soul. And with things as pedestrian as greed and envy. You should be proud of yourself," he nodded toward Spike's charred form, "We couldn't have taken him out without your help. He was a real champion for the other side."

Angel's voice was hoarse with grief. A grief he didn't know he could feel until this very moment, "He's not out yet! And, he's still a champion," Angel ignored Holland and addressed Illyria," Saint Benedict's Church is just a few blocks over. There's an old root cellar that leads to the sepulcher beneath the sanctuary. Take Spike there. I'll follow you."

Angel watched as Illyria picked Spike up in her arms, and sped off toward the church. He turned toward Holland, "No one from the Home Office would dare set foot in a holy place," Angel hissed, "If they do, I'll kill them."

Angel's vision came back to the present, and he said to Riley, "We're going back to Los Angeles."

"But what about Drusilla?" Riley asked.

"Her boy needs her. She'll know it. And, she'll come."

---

Buffy snuggled close to the still form in the crypt. Spike stopped speaking about ten days ago, but she knew he was still aware because of the little mewls of pain that he gave every now and then. As she snuggled down close, trying to give him her warmth, she said, "Now, I don't know what kind of songs you used to sing, when you were a kid, other than 'Never leave me', which, by the way, you promised. So I'll sing one I liked. And don't make fun of my singing," Buffy said, secretly hoping that he would, just so that she could hear him again, "Ready? Here goes... 'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you..." Buffy whispered the rest into Spike's ear, " 'Please don't take my sunshine away.'"


Chapter Twelve

Xander may have only had one eye left, but he still had two good ears, and he knew what grief sounded like. The edge that was in Buffy's voice had been in his own, a year ago. Xander knew that Buffy needed a break from looking after Spike, on a nearly twenty-four-hour basis, for nearly three months. Xander also knew that if it came down to a fight between Drusilla and Buffy, right now, Drusilla would claim her second Slayer. And, Xander knew, that if that happened, and Spike found out that Xander could have done something to keep it from happening, Spike would have him for dinner. And what's more, Xander would welcome it.

Instead of going directly to the burial chamber, he'd slipped up into the sanctuary and out the back of the church. All of the people he needed to talk to were back at "Scooby Central," the tiny hotel room three blocks from the church. Xander had a plan, and he needed everyone's help.

---

Buffy put the candle in the small holder and watched the flame waver and the line of smoke weave up to the ceiling. She knelt and placed the flame a safe distance from Spike's skin, but still close enough that his face and body were cast in a shimmering shadow, and examined him with a critical eye.

There were things that she expected to see. The black splotches on his body were getting smaller, so his body was healing itself. But, Buffy knew that healing, without the aid of human blood, was not only a slow, but also a painful, process. She could see the pain in his eyes, even before Spike had diverted the energy he had used to communicate to healing his injuries. The pain had transformed his eyes from clear, bright, azure to a ring of dark, feverish royal blue, all but obscured by the dark pupils in the center, as they tried in vain to draw in more light so that he could see her. Yet he still kept silent about the extent of the pain he was in, preferring instead to try and put her at ease with a devilish smirk and bedroom humor. But, Buffy knew the truth.

Ten days ago, Spike had stopped communicating with her at all, and his eyes had clouded over, to a smoky bluish- grey. Buffy hadn't seen that color in his eyes since the behavior modification chip the Initiative had implanted in his skull had started to degrade. She knew he'd been in screaming pain then. But now, he wasn't screaming, and that scared her even more.

Buffy leaned down to place a kiss to his temple. That soft mercy was rewarded with a tiny intake of breath, an energy Buffy knew he couldn't afford to expend, but did anyway, because it was something Spike had always done. Spike used his lungs, even when he didn't need to, purely out of habit. When they were together, Spike would let his breathing fall into rhythm with hers. Spike wasn't even aware he was doing it, but it was another thing about him that she'd been missing for too long. Another thing that she wasn't going be without again. At least, not before she fought tooth and nail, to keep it.

"Yeah, that's right, Buffy's here," she said, tenderly, "You just concentrate on getting better. Don't you worry about Drusilla. You let me do that, all right? Whatever she wants, she can have it. It doesn't matter," Buffy carefully laced her fingers in his, "I just need you back, Spike."

---

"Okay gang," Xander said, "Buffy needs a break. She hasn't left Spike's side in almost ninety days. She won't say it, but I know she's tired. Buffy needs to get some sleep."

Willow agreed, "Xander, what do you want us to do?"

"Well, I'm no vampire, but I am a guy, and I know I wouldn't want everyone I cared about," he looked at Dawn, "Especially girls that I thought of as a little sister, and who I kept safe the summer her sister was gone, seeing me without a stitch of clothing on," Xander saw Dawn's cheeks redden, "for three months!"

"But," Dawn said, "wouldn't putting clothes on him hurt him? I mean, he is burned."

Xander nodded, "The gowns they have in hospitals barely touch the skin, and he wouldn't need to be moved much for us to put it on him. I admit, it's not his usual taste, but it does cover all of Spike's naughty parts, none of which Dawnie should be seeing anyway."

"And the wounds must be in need of debridement by now," Giles said.

"What is that?" Dawn asked.

Illyria answered, "It is the process of removing burned tissue, so that the body can begin to grow new, undamaged, tissue in its place."

Dawn winced, "That sounds painful."

"It is. Extremely so," Giles said.

Willow's eyes brightened, "I think I can help there," she said, " I can enclose him in a healing field. If we need to move him, or do anything to him, while the shield is in place, it shouldn't hurt at all. It's kind of like a magical morphine drip."

The others only stared at her in stunned silence. They knew what Willow was capable of if she let the magic take control of her.

Willow put her hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Strictly healing magic. No dark eyes, I promise," she looked at Giles, "If you don't believe me," Giles, you can monitor me."

Giles smiled, "The very fact that you are willing to be monitored proves that I may not need to do so. But, I will be nearby, should you need assistance, Willow."

"So, that's the plan," Xander asked, waiting for each to nod, "We all have our assignments. Let's spit up, and meet back at the crypt in an hour?"

---

Buffy lay in the crypt talking, as much for her own sanity, as to keep him company, "Dawn said that when I was gone that summer, you went a long time without feeding," Buffy gave a wry smile, "I thought you looked a little skinny that night. You looked like you were going to drop, right at the base of the stairs. Dawn told me you'd started seeing things by the time Willow did that spell. It's no wonder that you looked like you'd seen a ghost," her tone became serious, "I wonder, are you seeing things now?"

Just then, she heard Xander's voice at the archway, "Buffy, the gang's all here. We'll take care of Spike for a while. You go get some sleep."

Buffy got up from the floor, and met her friends; some with medical supplies in hand, " Xander, I can't leave Spike right now."

Suddenly, a voice came from the floor, "Slayer, let the flunkies have a go, yeah? You rest. Don't worry, I'll be here."

Buffy's head snapped to the sound, "Spike! Are you sure?"

"Yes. Sweet dreams, Slayer."

---

Willow finished the incantation, "Okay guys, we should be able to move him now."

Xander stepped up, with the hospital gown and slippers, smirking down at a sleeping vampire, "My," he said admiring the pink glow of energy that quivered around him, "but the 'Big Bad' looks so pretty in pink. Come on, big man, it may not be fashionable, but if I have to look at you in your altogether, one more day, I'm going to hurl," Xander said as he carefully threaded Spike's arms through the garment, and tied the back closed.

Dawn stepped up next, "Spike, it's Dawn. I'm going to give you a nice alcohol rub, okay, maybe help cool your skin down faster so that you feel a little more like, well, a vampire," she poured the contents of the bottle into a small dish, dipped a cloth into the alcohol, and began to gently swipe his face and arms, "This won't hurt, I promise," Dawn's voice hitched as her fingers worked the cloth over his skin, " I love you, Spike."

---

As Buffy fell asleep, on the bed in the Hyperian Hotel, she found herself in Sunnydale again. Her house and yard looked exactly like she remembered it. There was even the oak tree in the front yard. She squinted against the glare of the sunlight. No, it wasn't possible, she thought. But, it was. There was someone standing under the tree. There, standing in bright, blaring daylight, was Spike. Just as perfect as she knew he was, not a burn mark on him.

"Spike, is that you?" she asked, stepping off of her porch.

He sauntered closer to her, "What do you think, Slayer?" he said, holding his arms wide, waiting to catch her.

Buffy ran into his embrace and Spike lifted her up and spun her around until she was laughing from the dizziness. The sounds of Buffy's laughter only made Spike spin her faster, forcing her to cry out, "Stop it Spike, I think I'm going to be sick!"

Spike slowed down his momentum, and placed Buffy gently on her feet, "We can't have that," he said placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, "can we?"

Buffy stared, wonderstruck, "How, I thought you were back at the church?"

Spike nodded, "I am. I'm getting all the tender loving care I need, right now. I thought maybe you could use some, so here I am."

---

Angel looked at Dawn, "You mean that Spike hasn't let his demon show, for three months?"

"Yep. No gold eyed baddie, just blue eyed 'Big Bad.'"

Angel shook his head in disbelief, "William's amazing."

"I know," Dawn said, with pride in her voice, "Willow's going to let the field down now, so you can feed him. You said it would help with the pain, until Drusilla got here?"

"It should. But, afterwards, he might be a little weepy."

"Well," Dawn said, "If you can't cry in front of your friends, who can you cry in front of? I cried in front of him. He can cry in front of me."

---

Buffy awoke to Dawn pounding on her door, "Buffy, wake up! Angel's here, and he's going to give Spike some of his blood. I think you should be there, in case Spike needs you."

Buffy was up and dressed in a flash. Slayer speed is still gangbusters, she thought, "Okay Dawnie. I'm right behind you. Don't let Angel near him until I get there."

"You got it," Dawn said, running back to the church.


Chapter Thirteen

Willow was glad that Buffy wanted her to wait until she was present before she lowered the healing shield around Spike. As Willow looked at the mixture of pink and green light swirling around him, she smiled at how peaceful he looked, like a sleeping angel. The field had allowed a calm to settle over him that hadn't been there three months ago. And, thinking back on it, Willow wasn't sure she had ever seen Spike in quite this way, in all the years she'd known him. Willow was glad that she'd said kaddish for him, even though Kennedy couldn't understand why she would do it, after all, Spike was just a vampire, she'd, just once, reached back to her Jewish roots to offer up a prayer for the dead, hoping that somehow, Spike would find peace.

Now, for this brief moment, lying in the glow of magical energies, he had it, and letting the field drop would plunge him back into agony. She didn't want to do it. Once the magic dissipated, the wall between Spike's emotions and the others around him would be gone. If Willow didn't act fast, his pain would affect her and anyone he cared about, for miles around. Willow wasn't sure she was that fast, or that strong.

Dawn had been so quiet that Willow had forgotten she was even with her, until she spoke, "He looks so pretty, doesn't he? The pink and green sort of bouncing off of him like that? Don't tell him that I said he was pretty though, he still wants me to think he's tough, which I guess he is, because, Angel wasn't this bad off when Faith shot him with that arrow full of poison, and he couldn't go two days without going all fang-faced and trying to eat Buffy."

Willow smiled, letting Dawn's head rest on her shoulder, as she watched the magic do its thing, "You know Dawn, comments about how the pastel color scheme of the healing spell make Spike look slightly effeminate aside, I think he would take that as a compliment."

Dawn's nose scrunched up, "You mean, if I didn't say that the spell makes him look like a girl, he'd think what I said was cool?"

Willow nodded, "Something like that. Where is Buffy, anyway?"

"Oh, she's coming," Dawn said, "Angel and Riley showed up at the hotel, and she wanted to talk to them before coming here."


Chapter Fourteen

"...And, explain again why it took you almost a month to make it from Cleveland to Los Angeles?"

Angel hung his head, "Part of it was because I really thought I could make heads or tails out of Drusilla's dribble, and I could bring her back here..."

"And the other part?" Buffy asked, impatient to get back to Spike, "Come on, we've got six weeks to find Drusilla, and I don't want to waste any of it talking to you if I don't have to."

Angel was puzzled, "Six weeks? But, I thought you were feeding him."

Buffy sighed, exhausted, "Oh, that's right. You didn't hear about the nifty little parasite that ate up the blood I gave him faster than I could give it to him."

"What?" Angel asked, genuinely shocked at this development.

"That's right," Buffy went on, "A little something left over from Maggie Walsh's bag of nightmares. A parasite that, when introduced into a vampire's system, feeds off of human hemoglobin, slowly starving the vampire," Buffy shook her head, "Normally, I'd say that her evil scheme was brilliant, but not in this case."

Riley spoke up, "I know this. Maggie called it, 'Wasting Serum,' it was the next level up from the chip. No matter how much a vamp ate, he'd always end up looking like a concentration camp survivor. Before he turned to dust, that is."

Angel was still confused, "So, how did it get into Spike's system, this parasite?"

"Something he drank, I guess. Angel, did you know someone named Lindsey McDonald?"

Angel's face grew dark, "Say no more. Buffy, how long has he been without blood. I'm assuming that's what you did," he looked at Buffy's swimming eyes, nodded a little, trying to reassure her, "You put him on a forced fast, didn't you," Buffy nodded slightly, and Angel could see that she was trembling from exhaustion, "Don't worry Buffy, it's what I would have done."

Buffy's voice was barely a whisper, "That's not all I did," she said.

"What did you do, Buffy?" Riley asked, gently.

"I took the blood back, Riley, like you'd treat a snakebite victim. I sucked the blood right out of him."

Angel was afraid Buffy would say something like that. Now, not only did Spike have to fight excruciating pain, but also he had to do it without the aid of blood. Though Buffy certainly did not have enough blood volume to completely eliminate it, her feedings should have allowed Spike to flush the poisons introduced into his system the night of the fight. If he'd had Buffy's blood to help him, he might have been able to move by now, but now, Angel wasn't sure what kind of timeline he was working against, or even if he could help Spike, even if he did give him his blood. From what Riley described, the parasite was brutal, and in Spike's weakened state, Angel wasn't sure Spike would be able to call out to Drusilla, even if he wanted to.

Angel closed his eyes; honestly afraid of what he might find when he went down into the sepulcher under Saint Benedict's. Angel had dealt with fear before, by driving those people he held nearest and dearest to him away. That tactic not only left him numb and dead, inside as well as out, it also made him the Home Office's new poster boy, apparently. If he remembered right, Angelus had told Spike that, without passions, we'd be truly dead inside. Well, it seemed that Spike had taken that lesson to heart, even before he'd given it. Now, Angel thought, who's Yoda in this scenario? Angel smiled at the irony, "You're finally taking the old man to school, Boy."

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing," Angel sighed, "Take me to him."

---

What Angel found under the church was worse than he'd expected. The skin was healing in some spots, that was true, but Spike's body was almost skeletal from lack of nourishment. If it wasn't for Willow's healing spell, Angel was sure Spike would be screaming. Yet Dawn had told him that the demon had not come to the fore. Not even briefly, in three months. To Angel, that meant that Spike's body had already begun to shut down. Without some kind of support, Spike would be dust by the end of the week, Drusilla, or no, Drusilla.

"We have to get him somewhere quiet," Angel said, scooping Spike up in his arms before anyone could protest, "He has to be more comfortable," Angel tried not to show how the sight of Spike really made him feel, "Spike can't be comfortable here. He has an apartment, not far from here," Angel saw the others glare at him in distrust, "You all can come with me. He'd want you with him," he said, nodding toward the helpless form in his arms, "And, Buffy, if a man calling himself Holland Manners comes calling while I'm busy with Spike, don't believe anything he has to say. Riley, I need you to raid a blood bank for me, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't," Riley said.

"Angel, what are you going to do? He can't have human blood," Buffy said.

"He can't," Angel said, " but I can."

---

Angel had drank his fill of the preserved blood, and looked at Spike, who slept on, oblivious to pain, in the shimmer of Willow's magic. Angel hated taking him from that peace, even for a moment. "Buffy," he said, You might want to be close when Willow lets the magic down, to let Spike know you're still with him."

"Okay," she said, moving into position on one side of the bed.

Angel nodded toward Dawn, who moved in to flank Spike on the other side. Once the girls were in place, he checked to see if Riley was ready with the tranquilizer dart, in case things got out of hand. With Spike in this condition there was no telling what kind of emotions could come flooding into Angel's conscience. They all had to be on guard against Angelus.

Angel nodded to the girls in flanking position. Buffy and Dawn started to murmur comforting words, softly, into Spikes ear, while Angel stood with his wrist near Spike's mouth, ready to accept the fangs, when they descended. He nodded to Willow, who whispered an incantation, and the glow of light around Spike was gone.

Just as the light flickered out, Angel felt the fangs, and heard the same scream boom in his head, that he heard that night in the alley. Buffy dropped to her knees, and started to sob. It was then that Angel knew that Buffy had heard it too, and felt the horrible pain Spike had been trying to hide from her.

---

Drusilla looked out at the dark water as it carried her back home to her boy. Normally she never listened to Miss Edith. Miss Edith was always trying to ruin her fun, and Drusilla couldn't have that, so she just ignored her. Not tonight though. Tonight the air worried about William, and Miss Edith told her to listen, and she did.

Drusilla heard her boy screaming, and she wished the boat had wings so that she could fly to him and make him better; set him free, "Hang on, my brave, brave, glowing boy," Drusilla whispered to the black waves, "I'm coming."

---

Buffy sat on the toilet in the small bathroom, the only place in the small apartment where she could get away from the sight of Spike in that much pain. Buffy had a hard enough time hearing it, but seeing it as well, and knowing that Spike had lived with it, for months, and never let on, just made her crazy. Buffy didn't know whether to punch him silly, when he was on his feet again, or kiss him senseless. Perhaps a little of both was in order.

There came a small tapping at the door, and then Willow's voice, "Buffy, it's over. We told Spike that he should sleep, that's what Angel left to do, but, you know Spike," she giggled a little, "he said, and I quote, 'Not on your life, Red. Get Goldilocks out here, now.' And we don't want to disappoint him, now do we?"

Buffy opened the door a crack, just enough to see that Spike was sitting up, in that tiny bed, and smiling at her. Wait, Buffy thought, Spike's sitting up in bed, and is that a finger I see calling me over to him? It is, I never thought this would happen, but here it is, Spike's crooking his finger, and, here I come running.

Before Buffy knew what was happening, she was at the side of the bed sitting as close to the edge as she dared, so as not to hurt him.

"Well, Slayer, still have the reflexes I see," Spike smiled a genuine smile, "You look good, Slayer, a bit tired but otherwise, perfect, as always."

"Me," Buffy gasped, "Spike, you look... you look," she shook her head, completely at a loss for words.

Spike smirked, "Cat got your tongue, Slayer?"

When she said nothing, Spike shifted a little under the bedclothes, and looked down at his clothing, "Buffy, who dressed me in sodding bunnies? This is...well, this is...oh, who am I kidding? I couldn't care less what I'm wearing. All that matters now, is that, though I still need Dru to get back to 'Big Bad' status, and I'm weaker than a week old kitten right now, I don't think you need to wear the floor out with your worrying, Pet. Seems the old Grandsire finally did something right."

"Yeah," Buffy said, "Remind me to thank him. And to beat the tar out of you, once you can hit back, that is."

"Me," Spike asked in teasing tone, his eyes glinting with a shade of the old fire, "What on earth did I do to deserve that kind of treatment?"

"You didn't tell me how bad it was for you," she pouted, "That's what you did."

Spike's eyes dropped, "Still is bad, Pet, just not as bad as before. Still need Dru. All Peaches did was buy me some time, is all."

Buffy almost kicked herself for pushing the issue, "How much?" she asked.

"Enough," was all he said, as he leaned her head against his chest, and held her tight, as he drifted into sleep, contented, for the first time since he'd held her, just like this, in an abandoned house in Sunnydale.


Chapter Fifteen

The steady rhythm was comforting to him. The signs of life in this tiny room washed over him like gentle waves. The reverberation that sounded in his chest and ears was the sweetest sound Spike had ever heard. His girls were here, he was home and he was going to fight to stay. He was wanted. He was loved. Everything he could ever want was right here, in the tiny pocket universe of two girls. One whom he loved until the end of the world, the other, he'd loved beyond her death, and his. If he was dreaming he never wanted to wake up. If he was delirious, he didn't want the cure. He was home. And, he was never leaving again. He'd move heaven and earth to keep this. No one was taking it from him, again.

"Spike," Dawn's gentle voice, "wake up."

His eyes stayed shut, his arms enfolding a sleeping Slayer, "Bit, there'd better be another apocalypse, and if there is, tell Beelzebub I'm off the roster of Champions for the time being. Tell him I'll catch him on the next go, yeah?"

"It's okay," she whispered, careful not to disturb Buffy, "I just wanted to tell you that Willow and I are leaving. She set up a protection grid around the whole building, so, no one is getting in here that you don't want to get in. Angel said something about a Holland Manners. No one's getting in here without letting all of Los Angeles know it."

Spike's eyes stayed closed, "Dru?" he questioned.

"The gang knows what she looks like. And, just in case, Riley is just outside the door."

"Solider Boy rode to my rescue," Spike was more than a little shocked at that little tidbit of information, "Well then, I must be delirious."

Dawn giggled, "Glad you're here, Spike. I love you. See you tonight," she said as she shut the door.

Spike listened carefully, straining to hear his Little Bit until the last tympan of her heart faded into the white noise, and his private little duet became a solo performance.

Yes, he was home, and he wasn't going anywhere.

---

Drusilla knew that the time was coming. Miss Edith had told her that she would have to fight for what she had lost. That the nasty little sprite that flittered about William's heart was not going to give him up without a fight. Drusilla knew she could do it; turnabout was in the cards. William had faced the mouth of Hell, and Death herself, to see his ripe plum blossom again. She would face her, too.

Drusilla just needed one more piece to fall into place, then all the stars would align, and her treasure would be lost no more, and would be hers again, now and forever.

---

Her breathing became shallow, and slightly faster than it had been for the last two hours. His Slayer was waking up.

"Buffy," Spike said, in a singsong voice, "Don't dwell in dreamland too much longer. If you do, I just might have to kiss you until your head is spinning," Spike smiled at the contented sigh that escaped, as she burrowed deeper into his neck, "What was that, Pet? Didn't quite make that out."

Buffy sighed, "Do I have to? I like this dream. I don't want to wake up. This dream is so much nicer than the others."

Instinctively, Spike wrapped his hand around the back of Buffy's head, pulling her in closer, doing what little he could, now, to protect her. He was surprised to find that the words were having trouble getting past his suddenly pitifully small throat, "It's all right now. That's all over and done. Don't you worry."

Buffy came to full awareness when she heard the tight, raspy quality of his voice; it was obvious that the blood Angel had given him had not helped as much as she had hoped it would. Buffy slid away from his embrace, as gently as she could, and looked at his face. His eyes and face were shining with moisture. Spike had been crying, and from the looks of it, this wasn't the first time. "Spike," Buffy asked, unsure of what to do, "are you hurt?" Buffy began searching him for anything, any small wound she might have missed. She didn't want to add to his suffering. Buffy tried to place her hand on his face to wipe away the tears, but that seemed to hurt him even more. His chest started heaving as uncontrolled sobbing took him over. Alarmed, Buffy jumped out of the bed as if it were on fire, and asked, desperately trying to keep her own fears in check, "Spike, what is it?"

Spike shook his head, weakly, against the pillow, trying to compose himself, "No, Buffy," he choked, "it's not you. It's just, it finally hit me."

Buffy's face and body relaxed a little as she, slowly, came back to his side, "What did, Spike?" she asked as she gently wiped away the tears that had drifted back, on the pillow, away with her thumb. Buffy felt a ping of joy, as she felt Spike lean into her touch ever so slightly.

"That you're real," Spike whispered, "That this isn't a dream."

"Nope," Buffy smiled, wanting to press tiny kisses of love and reassurance into his skin, until the reality of her became a part of him, "You've got the real thing, right here," she kissed his cheek, "one hundred percent pure Buffy Summers," she leaned up on her elbow and stretched up to kiss the tip of his nose, "Live, and in, very," a little touch on his lips, and Buffy felt him shudder, "very bright Technicolor." Buffy peppered his face with kisses, vowing, silently with each one, that she would do whatever she had to do to prove to him that she did love him, and that he was not dreaming, and that her love would be the one thing he could rely on, now and forever.

Spike stopped resisting, and gave in. He let himself fall over the edge of what he knew, and let her ridiculously small, but incredibly strong arms hold him, safely, in their loving embrace. And, even though his body felt like molten lead, the nerves exploding in fire with every movement, he didn't care; he had to hold her. He reached up to the crown of her head, and slid his fingers through the rays of sunshine that she wore. The softness of her hair, the softness of her, made him whimper with the joy of having her again, and he gently held her to him.

Buffy felt the small tug, and fell, softly, with him. This wasn't the desperate, cruel, painful touch she'd always required of him before, this wasn't a touch that she intended to punish herself, or Spike, with. This touch, these kisses, was a promise. And, she realized, he was promising too. With each kiss, he was promising that he would be hers, forever.

Buffy never wanted to stop kissing him, but, suddenly, she felt lightheaded. At first, she thought it was a pleasant sensation, sort of a side effect of having Spike again, after so long a period of withdrawal. Love like this was better than any drug Buffy had ever read about, certainly better than anything she could ever dream up. But, no, this wasn't love that was making her giddy; it was lack of oxygen. What a way to go, she thought, as she reluctantly pulled away for air.

Spike sighed at the loss of contact, and giggled a little, slightly drunken from her kisses, and the way she made him feel, "Told you, Pet, I'd kiss you senseless."

"I love you, Spike," Buffy said, breathlessly, "I've never felt this alive, Spike, ever. I don't think I've ever felt this much love," Buffy looked at his face, and yes, there were burns, yes, he looked like he hadn't fed in a couple of years, and yes, she grinned, he was bald as a billiard ball, his hair hadn't grown in yet, I suppose that will come when Drusilla gets here, but, the glint in his eye, the tilt of his head as he was looking at her like she'd gone crazy, was all Spike. He was here, and he loved her. She knew that. Buffy continued, remembering another time and place, "You're the one, Spike. Now, and forever, I'll love you," Buffy kissed him again, and hoped that he knew how much she loved him.

As Buffy kissed him with all her heart, he knew that she meant what she said. She loved him. He was loved, now, and forever.


Chapter Sixteen

Buffy was kissing him. After more than a year apart, Buffy was kissing him. Not Angelus, not Soldier Boy, not that ponce who called himself "The Immortal," but him. This had to be a dream; he couldn't possibly be this lucky. Spike was absolutely over the moon. If Buffy had asked him to, at that moment, he could bring down the stars for her to pin in her beautiful hair. George Bailey was a lazy lout, giving his ladylove just the moon. Buffy wants the moon? She can have that, and the universe it came in, too. Just keep kissing me like that.

She doesn't love you. What makes you think she could love you? This is just pity. It's just a guilty conscience, she could never love the real you. What? Where did that come from? Don't pay attention; maybe he'll go away. Just concentrate on Buffy. She doesn't know who you really are, doesn't know the things you've done. Right now, Spike wished he could tear the soul right out of him. Stop it, you stupid sod, I spent a year listening to you, and Angelus, tell me how I wasn't good enough for Buffy. Now, here's living, breathing, and, oh God, she's so warm, proof that you both were wrong. She's so warm, and I'm so hungry. It would be so easy to just give in. Just a little nip, she won't even feel it. Do you think she'd love you if she saw your true face, the one you try to hide? She can never love you. No! You're wrong, she told me she loves me, and you're not going to ruin this for me again!

"...William the Bloody, this is Ground Control, come in," Buffy's voice was teasing, Spike tried to focus, just, exactly, when had she stopped kissing him?

Spike was flustered, and more than a bit spun around, by his traitorous, magical whatzit called a soul, "What?" he sputtered.

Buffy smiled warmly, "You okay? You looked like you were a million miles away for a minute there."

He tried to shrug it off, "It's nothing, Pet," he felt his throat tighten a little at the lie he was telling her, "just an old wound. Keeps nagging me, every now and again."

Buffy had noticed his face shift while she'd been kissing him, and thought that maybe, the shifting had hurt him somehow, "Really, where?" Buffy asked, concerned.

"It's not an actual wound, this is more of a metaphysical one."

Buffy's face crinkled in concentration, after all, it had been a while since she had had to use her brain when having a conversation. Spike had always been good at mental calisthenics. Of course, sometimes they didn't talk all that much, but when they had, it felt good. It kept her sharp, and on her toes. Buffy really missed not having Spike to talk to. She took a deep breath, and jumped in, "Are you talking about the soul, Spike?"

"Yes," Spike sighed, "Fought for it so that I'd fit in your world, fit with you, and then it spent two years telling me that I was lower than the dirt under your feet."

Buffy's heart ached for him. She knew what it was like to think that you didn't fit anywhere. Buffy knew that better than anyone. She'd come back from heaven, to a world that didn't need her anymore. And, then, in order to save the world, she not only had to give up Spike, but she had to give up the thing that had defined her, for seven years, being the one, and only, Slayer. Of course she knew how he felt.

"Spike, this might sound funny, coming from me, considering the emphasis I placed on it, in the past, but, the soul didn't make me love you."

His eyes went wide with surprise, "No?"

---

Angel couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the battle again. Saw the look in Spike's eyes as he dove to knock him out of the fire's path. To Spike, Angel was family, warts and all, and to him that meant something. It was what had kept Spike going, when, Angel had to admit, he would have quit.

Quitting just wasn't something Spike did. The words, "It can't be done," were never strung together in his vocabulary, even from the beginning. That was something he never understood about William, and it used to drive him crazy trying to figure Spike out. Still did. Angel couldn't understand why the soul hadn't really changed Spike all that much. At least, not like it had changed him.

"Ah, but, does the soul make the man, or does the man make the soul, Angel?"

Angel wondered how he had gotten in here, the door hadn't opened, "Holland, what are you doing here?" he asked, fully prepared to drop kick him out the nearest window.

Holland looked quizzical, "Oh, I'm just pondering the mysteries of the universe, like you. People in the state you're in now, are prime real estate for the Home Office to set up shop in, and flourish. Don't want to miss the opportunity. This could lead to a promotion for me."

Angel was in no mood for banter, "To what, pond scum?"

Holland nodded, knowingly, "Keep questioning, Angel, you keep it up, at this rate, I'll be regional director before the month's out."

---

"No," Buffy said, "it wasn't the soul," she smiled, remembering the exact moment in time that she'd started to feel the feeling that everyone, her Watcher, her friends, Angel, and even she herself, said was impossible. After all, he didn't have a soul. Buffy sighed, "Do you want to know when it was that I knew? When I realized that I loved you, for the first time?"

Spike felt his arms and legs tingle with anticipation, "Yes," his body felt as tight as a spring, "Please, do tell, Slayer. I'm on pins and needles here," he smirked.

"When you held a sword, away from my head, with nothing but your bare hands," Buffy smiled, knowing he knew the moment she was talking about.

But that was back in...that was before the soul. Before that horrible night in her bathroom; before she'd jumped from that blasted tower, and plunged his world into darkness for one hundred forty-seven days, before he'd wanted her to beat him down for all of the terrible things he'd done. That was before the fire, and the burning, before her friends had been so thoughtless, ripping her out of heaven, and tearing her soul to shreds in the process, before his heart was left broken and bleeding because he'd tried to piece her back together.

Spike tried to control the rising tide of anger he felt, at her, at himself, at the world in general, and said, in a slow measured tone, "You never said anything," he looked into her soft gaze, and she was looking back, she hadn't blinked, "Why?"

Buffy could tell by his tone that she'd made him angry, and she didn't blame him at all. She should have said something long before she did. No wonder he hadn't believed her when she finally did say the words. Buffy placed her hand on his cheek, watching as his amber eyes drifted shut with the contact, "Because of the history I have," she said, sheepishly, "Vampires who know I love them, they tend to go," Buffy rolled her eyes up, trying to search for the right words, "a little, let's see, how do I put this, psychotic, and try to kill my friends. The ones without a soul, that is," Buffy paused, and Spike could see the wheels turning in her head, "Now that I think about it, the soulful ones try that too," she smirked at him, her eyes shining, "So, you see my dilemma. To tell, or not to tell, that was the question."

Buffy saw his eyes shift back to the azure hue she'd missed so much, a smirk playing on his lips, "I can see how that might be a problem," he said.

---

"You're wondering why she chose him, aren't you," Holland asked, "And, not just Buffy, you're wondering about Drusilla, too. What makes Spike so different? What makes people he's just met, for example, Illyria, want to protect him? Why does he seem to be able to turn enemies into allies, so quickly, while you have, for a trusted associate, an ousted Watcher who would have rather seen your own son grow up with someone who hated you, rather than risk you raising him," Holland shook his head, in pity, "It's sad, really."

"Don't mention Wesley, or Connor. Those subjects are off limits," Angel hissed at Holland, letting his demon show, to punctuate his point, "Ever again. Are we clear?"

"Oh," Holland sneered, "we're clear. Still, it makes you wonder, doesn't it? And, it's not the microchip that made Buffy and Dawn trust him. Riley told you that, if Spike had wanted to, he could have hired someone to kill all the Scoobies if he'd really wanted them dead," he gave a put upon sigh, "Or, he could have just locked them all in a wine cellar with a couple of bloodthirsty vampires, that would have gotten the job done, and no migraine for Spike, so what is it, really," Holland shrugged, "Some things will always remain a mystery, I guess."

---

Drusilla looked over the edge of the crater. This was where it had started. She'd seen it, all those years ago. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Her brave knight, the bravest in all the land, she'd told her Daddy so, the night she found him. He was standing down there, with all those burning, baby fish. He'd almost made it back to her, almost made it to heaven, but something pulled him back, right out of her grasp. She'd been so happy, and sad, at the same time. With him there, they could both rest. But now, she was hurting, and she wanted her Daddy to make things right again.

---

"What was it Darla said to you once," Holland asked, "Something to the effect of, 'What we were informs what we will become,' wasn't that it? Interesting theory. What was William?"

For Angel, examining Spike's psyche was like walking in the sun, not something he wanted to do. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, and Holland was preventing that from happening. If this is what it took to get Holland out, so he could get some rest, so be it. Angel sighed, Will this get you out of here any faster, me telling you about William?"

"Yes," Holland said.

"Fine. William was a weakling. He was never good with girls, tripped over his tongue trying to talk to them. He was the kind of person you never would notice, not in polite society. He was a wallflower, really, "Angel mused," But there was a spark of something; something that was too stubborn to die, when Drusilla made him."

Now we're getting somewhere, Holland thought, "And, what was that?"

Angel heaved an unneeded sigh, "He could love. Even with the soul gone, he could love. He wasn't empty."

"Like you are?" he asked.

"Like me," Angel said.

---

Buffy was pacing in the little apartment, "Spike, she can have whatever she wants. I'd give her anything she wanted, if it would help you."

Spike's muscles screamed as he struggled to push himself against the mound of pillows behind him. Buffy saw him struggling, and, after Spike collapsed halfway up, she helped him the rest of the way, hoping that her touch was gentle enough. Sometimes, when she was frightened, like she was now, she didn't know her own strength.

Spike was grateful for the help. He really didn't have it in him to handle a strategy session right now, but it couldn't be helped. Buffy needed information about Drusilla. Information not even her sire knew, information only he could give, "Buffy," Spike croaked, "with Drusilla, logic doesn't enter the picture. She doesn't know what she wants half of the time. When I took care of her," he cast his eyes down, away from Buffy's gaze, as if his next words were a shame to him, "When I loved her, I only paid attention to half of what she said. The other half, that was just gibberish."

"So, which half do I listen to?"

"If Dru starts going on about Miss Edith, that's when you listen."

"Why?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Oh, Rupert, didn't you tell your girl anything," he looked at Buffy's confused face, "Look Pet, when a vampire gets changed, the soul leaves the house and goes into the ether, somewhere, for good or ill, wherever it is that souls go, but, even though the body's resident has vacated, and the vampire's set up in his old digs, there's always something left behind."

"What?" Buffy wondered why Giles, or Angel had never told her this. She supposed that this would make it harder for her to do her job. The Council was always a secretive bunch of morons.

"It's a bit like moving into an already furnished flat," Spike continued, "It is empty, yes. And, you bump around in it, but, there's always a reminder that someone was there first. You live there, but the walls aren't painted with colors that you're entirely fond of. Understand?"

Buffy nodded, "Why Miss Edith?"

"Miss Edith is her magical whatzit, the leftover from her life, before."

"Huh?"

"Buffy," Spike said patiently, "Drusilla was a nun before Angelus turned her. Nuns don't start out with names like, 'Sister Mary Michael,' they chose them, as part of their devotion to their new lives as nuns," he stopped; reliving the pain Angelus had caused Dru, before he'd turned her. Before, he'd admired Angelus for his inventive cruelty. But now, it just seemed over the top, "Buffy, in life, Drusilla was Edith Christine Hillary. Miss Edith."

Buffy was confused, "But you don't have a third name."

"No," Spike snapped, annoyed, "My mother named her bouncing bundle of joy, 'Spike' because she wanted to impress her biker friends!" he took a breath to calm himself, "Buffy, in your heart you know that I'm right."

Buffy looked at the sadness on his face, and wanted to comfort him, she walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, and asked, "So, what's your leftover?"

He smirked at her, "I think you know that, Pet."

"Yeah, I think I do," she said, as she leaned over to kiss him.

---

Angel heard a knock at his door. He had just fallen to sleep, and was angered by the interruption. Pulling his robe over his shoulders, he pulled the door open with a jerk, "Holland, I thought I told you to..."

"Daddy," the voice behind the door said.

"Drusilla," Angel whispered, in shock.


Chapter Seventeen

Buffy hadn't known what else to do. Spike's condition degraded so quickly, that the only thing she could think to do was bring in her support system and start circling the wagons around Spike. Now she was glad they were here. They helped her be strong, when Spike was obviously so weak.

Dawn looked at Buffy with wide eyes, hoping that her sister had a clue what was happening, because she sure didn't, "Buffy, when I left, Spike was fine," Dawn watched as Spike struggled against the binding field that she'd insisted Willow place him in, "He was a little tired, but he was Spike," she watched, in horror, as Spike, writhed in pain, his eyes shifting from azure to amber, and back again, never able to maintain one, or the other, for any length of time, "Now, he looks like he doesn't know where he is. Buffy, what happened?"

"I don't know what happened. He shifted while we were kissing," she looked at Dawn, "But, he held it together, at least I thought so. He was a little snippy, but, that's just Spike," Buffy tried to shut out the incoherent growling she heard coming from Spike, "Then, all of the sudden, he was demanding that I leave the room. When I said I wouldn't do that, he called Riley in and demanded to be shot with those tranquilizer darts. Riley did that," Buffy couldn't fight the tears anymore, "Then, I asked Willow to put the field up again. I thought it would help calm him," Buffy took a breath, trying to calm herself, if she couldn't calm Spike, "This is the result. I know he's hurting, wild, almost. I don't understand any of this," Buffy sobbed.

The rational part of Spike's mind knew that Buffy wouldn't understand why this was happening. He wanted to tell her to get as far away from him as possible, before he couldn't control himself anymore. The part of him that was more animal than man sensed the end was coming, and had started to lash out at anything it had to, to keep that from happening. The demon was an animal, but, just like the man inside, that had, somehow managed to cling to life with his fingernails, it did not want to die. The demon saw Buffy as its only means of staying on this plane of existence, but to do that, it needed her blood. It needed to drain her dry to survive, and the man in him was not going to let that happen. William did not want to exist if that was the price. Both demon, and man were locked in a battle for supremacy.

Just which was the stronger, not even he was sure.

Buffy saw Spike rage, snarl and spit until all his energies seemed to be exhausted, and he became still. When she was certain that he was calm enough, she had Willow disengage the binding field, and she climbed into the bed and pulled him to her, cradling him like a baby. When Spike sensed that, for now, the demon had, indeed retreated within, he whimpered to Buffy, staring at her through frightened, pleading, eyes, "Please, Buffy, I don't what to die. I want to live. Buffy, please help me?"

Buffy's voice quivered, as tears squeezed out from behind closed eyelids, "I will, Spike. If I have to drag Drusilla here myself, I swear..."

Spike's brain seized on anything to keep him grounded, keep him here, with her, "Dru," he whispered, seemingly barely touching the reality he wanted to cling to, "she asked me once, where it had gone..."

"Where what had gone, Spike?" Buffy asked, trying to keep him in the present.

"The soul," he whispered, his eyes unfocused, "I told her I knew. But, I didn't," he confessed. He remembered his mother telling him, when he was a boy, that he needed to confess if he'd told a lie, and he had, he'd told a whopper, "I only believed. I told her that her soul was in heaven. But, I didn't really know," Spike nodded a little, as if he'd made some kind of decision, "I know now, though."

Buffy tried to be brave, even though her heart was breaking into tiny shards with each word that floated from his lips, "What do you know, Spike?"

"I know that William will go to heaven. He's a good boy," he paused, and looked, with wet, unfocused eyes, into her tear-stained face, and asked her, with all the wonder of a small boy, "But, Buffy, where will I go, when I die?"

Buffy looked up into her Watcher's haggard, grief-stricken, face for the answer, but found only more questions. She did her best to be the Slayer she needed to be, "Spike, I don't want you to, but if you do have to go," Buffy caressed his face with a trembling hand, "I will follow you wherever you go," Buffy watched Spike's eyes drift shut, "That's it, Spike. You rest now. Don't worry, Drusilla will be here, soon."

Giles had seen that look on Buffy's face before, and he knew that Buffy would make good on her promises, whatever it cost her.

---

Angel barely had her name off of his lips, when Drusilla whimpered and collapsed in his arms, "Drusilla," he gasped, catching her gently against him, then hooking his hand under her knees, carrying her to his sofa. He gently placed her on the soft leather sofa, went to the sink to get a wet cloth, and quickly returned to Drusilla, "Dru, can you hear me?"

Drusilla stirred a little, coming to slowly, "So much pain," she moaned, "William hurts so much, it's hard to see, it's too bright and sharp."

"I know, Dru," Angel choked, tapping her cheek lightly to rouse her, "but, you can't rest now, your boy needs you, Dru. You have to help."

Her eyes were suddenly bright and clear, boring into Angel's soul, "You burned him to ashes," Drusilla accused, "You wanted him to die."

"You're right," Angel admitted. He wasn't sure that Drusilla would be able to understand his reasoning. That he'd wanted to make sure Spike achieved the Shashu. He gave Drusilla a wry smile, "But, you know your boy, he can be very persuasive, and a bit stubborn, I think I've changed my mind about that."

She shook her head, her voice still accusatory, "You poisoned him."

Angel tried to keep his voice strong. Drusilla sometimes needed a firm hand, "No, Dru, I didn't. But, he will die, if you don't pull yourself together soon. Do you want that?"

---

The scene before her disquieted Illyria; the shell still held on to the electrical charges that humans referred to as memories. This shell had expired in a slow, agonizing way, very much like what the vampire she thought of as her only confidant in this small dimension, was experiencing now. Witnessing it happening to another being, made her enraged. She stepped to his bedside, slowly shifting into the persona of her human shell, "Hey, Spike," she said, "you listen to your girls now, okay? You've got a few promises to keep, remember? You promised me a hug," her voice was soft and soothing, Illyria learned how to do this from Wesley, "I know you're busy fighting this, and I won't keep you. But, I'm gonna hold you to that promise, all right?"

Buffy tried to soothe Spike as he tried to fight the pain. She knew he was a champion, but, sometimes, even champions fight losing battles. He seemed to respond to Illyria's voice, "Oh, God, Fred, I'm slipping. There's nothing to hold on to."

Illyria shifted to her natural form, "Vampire," she said, sternly, "I require you here. And, you will stay; do you understand me?"

"...There's nothing to hold on to. I can't hold on. I can't feel my hands. Dana... no..."

At the mention of Dana's name, Buffy looked up at Giles. It seems that the Slayer was kept in the dark again.

Giles had to leave the room; he just couldn't stand to see the look of betrayal and distrust in Buffy's eyes. That was a look he hadn't seen on her face since the night he'd let Wood talk him into stalling her while he carried out his vendetta. A vendetta that, if seen through to fruition, would have doomed them all. Buffy and he had just begun rebuilding their relationship. Now, a year's worth of work seemed to be torn asunder. And, all because he didn't trust his girl's judgment.

Andrew had, indeed, told him of Spike's existence after the closing of the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. But, Giles had wanted his girl to move on. He was afraid that history would repeat itself, and following her heart, allowing herself to fall in love with a vampire, would do her heart irreparable damage.

Seeing the way Buffy looked at Spike, Giles knew that he was, sadly, right. In trying to be a good father figure for her, he'd only succeeded in driving her further from him.

"...Slayer... she took my hands. I can't hold on."

Buffy sniffled, holding him tighter, "It's all right, Spike. I've got you. I'll hold you."

Xander's fingers itched, gripping the stake in his pocket. Spike had trusted him to do this if Buffy couldn't. His throat felt tight, and he swallowed hard. Was this the right time? Was this what he wanted? Could Buffy go through with it, or would he have to do it? I've got promises to keep, he thought.

---

"Daddy," Drusilla asked, "will you give back what you stole from me, if I help William?"

Angel was shocked. Just where, and when, had Drusilla learned such ruthless negotiating strategy? Never mind, he knew from whom she'd learned it. She had learned from her Daddy.

"Drusilla, please," he begged, he couldn't believe he was actually begging, but, he was, he was on his knees, begging, "we're talking about your boy, here. I really can't believe you would let him die. I know I took your life," he sighed, trying to keep the tears at bay, " I know, I took your innocence. If I could, Dru, I'd give it all back, I swear."

Drusilla's face softened, "Tears, Daddy? For me? For my William?"

"Yes, Dru," Angel sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat, "please, Drusilla, don't let Spike down, not now. He took care of you, when I couldn't. Loved you, when I didn't know how. Dru, he needs you, please. "

Drusilla nodded, "All right, Daddy. Take me to him."

---

Buffy sobbed her heat out, rocking Spike against her chest, "Hold on, Spike, please hold on. Don't you dare give up! Not now, please not now."

She knew that he was tired; she could feel him slipping into unconsciousness. He wasn't communicating with her in words, but she could feel his feelings. He was in agony. He wanted to stay with her, with all that was in him, but the pain was so much he couldn't take it. It was so much easier to drown in the numbness of being nothing. That was easier than putting up a fight. He was just so tired and so old.

She understood the pull of the numbness. She'd let it take control of her, rather than feel the pain.

"I won't let you drown, Spike. I've got you. Drusilla will be here, soon. I know it."

There was a knock at the door. All Buffy saw was a whir of scarlet and ebony, and a familiar voice that filed her with dread and joy, at the same time, "Oh, my bright, shining, brave boy. Don't worry, Mummy's here now," Drusilla drew up close to Spike's ear, "I know it hurts. But, Mummy, and Daddy are here now, and we'll make everything right again," she said, nodding toward Angel, who was still standing in the doorway, "Won't we, Daddy?"


Chapter Eighteen

He was nervous. Anyone in his situation would be. After all, a thing like this only happens once in a lifetime. He paced by the window, watching the stars come out. Oh, great, he thought, no pressure or anything, just a few angels in attendance tonight.

His fingers fumbled with the strip of cloth, like they had for the last fifteen minutes; his hands were shaking so bad, that he might as well have been all thumbs. He finally gave up and called in the reinforcements, "Harris," he bellowed, "get in here, and help me with this bleeding thing! Isn't that what a 'Best Man' is supposed to do?"

Xander appeared in the doorway of the small room, rushing to sooth the groom's frayed nerves, "Tone down the 'Big Bad' for a night, would you? You're getting married tonight, what could go wrong?"

Spike growled low in his chest, and Xander smiled, while straightening Spike's tie, "You're right, traditionally happy times are not a Scooby thing," Xander patted Spike's shoulder as he finished with the tie, "But, at least you made it this far. That's better than I can say," he let out a sigh, "Don't follow my example, okay?"

Spike wasn't listening to him. He'd wandered over to the other side of the room, pausing near the door, trying to hear any stray sounds that might be drifting down the hall.

"Hey," Xander admonished, "no fair using vamp senses to spy on the bride."

Spike balked, "Wasn't spying. I was standing about."

"Oh," Xander smiled, "Like there's a big difference? Anyway, she's not ready yet, and she's just as nervous as you are, trust me."

Spike looked at him at him, and shook his head, letting out a sigh, "Don't think that's possible, mate."

---

Buffy watched as Drusilla gazed into Spike's fevered eyes, "Look at me, William," she singsonged, "See with your heart."

Buffy didn't like this; she knew what Drusilla could do, once someone was in her thrall. One swipe of those fingernails, and it could be all over for Spike, "What are you doing," Buffy asked, watching Drusilla's every move, like the predator, like the Slayer, she was.

The face that Buffy had expected to be hard, and accusatory, looking back at her instead, was soft and warm, almost like a mother's would be, when faced with a sick child, "What Daddy and I have planned will take some time. I thought I would give him some pretty pictures to look at while we work," Drusilla nodded, acknowledging that, for a brief moment, she and the Slayer were on the same side, "Maybe lessen his pain some. Right now, it's too bright. I can't even bear to look at it, and he's been looking at it so long, his eyes are strained and tired."

"Oh," Buffy nodded, pulling Spike tighter in to her, "that's okay then."

"Do you have somewhere a little less crowded," Drusilla asked, "Miss Edith doesn't like all these nasty people around. I think she's a bit frightened."

Buffy was shocked, "If you think, for one minute, that I'm going to..." she paused, remembering what Spike had told her. She rethought her strategy, "Drusilla, do you think Miss Edith would let me talk to Daddy first? Maybe he has some ideas that might help?"

"Miss Edith says that would be all right. But, we must start soon," Drusilla warned.

Buffy nodded, climbing out of the bed and heading for the doorway, "I'll be quick, I promise."

Once Buffy was out of the room, she put herself between Angel and Spike, a closed door at her back, "Angel, just what is it Drusilla's planning on doing, here?"

Angel sighed, again unable to look her in the eye, "She wants her soul back. Dru wants what I took from her," he sighed again, "As payment, for helping Spike."

"What?" Buffy gasped, "But, that's crazy, no one, in their right mind, would do that! Spike is like her child, right? What mother would make someone pay them for saving their own child?"

Angel laughed, and gave Buffy a rueful smile, "Someone not in their right mind. That's my fault, too."

A plan was starting to form in Buffy's mind. She bit her lip, in thought, "Did she ask for payment, up front?"

"No," Angel said, confused, "But, if we don't do something, Spike will die, and she'll just sit there, and watch it happen."

"Maybe," Buffy mused, a slow grin pulling at her lips, "Maybe not," she said, eyes glinting with fire as she went back into the room, dragging Angel along behind her, "Come on," Buffy said, " I learned the art of doubletalk from a master."

"Who?" Angel asked.

"Who do you think," she said, then, turning her eyes to Drusilla, Buffy said, sweetly, "Drusilla, sweetling, do I have a deal for you."

---

The small gazebo at the edge of the footpath had been set aglow with candlelight. On either side of the winding, cobblestone path, leading to the shelter of the white lattice-framed structure, little pinpoints of light broke up the black of the night. Each small little flame was important tonight. And, the candles seemed to sense that their job was crucial, and glowed, just ever so much brighter, for the knowledge that, tonight, they were lighting the path for a bride to follow to her groom. No candle even dared think of flickering out tonight. The bride mustn't trip, in her beautiful, white gown. Tonight, two hearts were being joined, and they must be surefooted.

Under the gazebo, three people waited. There was the minister, who looked out of place, and a bit impatient. After all, this sort of thing was usually done in a church, in the daytime.

The best man, sensing the man's disquiet, whispered to him, "Hey, this is Los Angeles. Out here, we kind of go with the flow," Xander looked at his watch, "9:30," he said, eying the groom, who was chain smoking, very quietly in the corner, if corners were possible in a roughly hexagonally shaped structure, "T minus ten minutes. Better put that out," he said, nodding toward the glowing cigarette, "Or wedding or not, she'll have your head."

Spike gave a sheepish look, and then dutifully crushed the cigarette with the toe of his shoe, and pushed the butt out into the grass, "Better?" he asked.

"Much," Xander said, satisfied.

Spike wanted to check one last thing, "Harris, do you have the rings?"

Xander checked his pockets. He'd thought about razzing Spike a little, but thought better of it, seeing as how the groom had a tendency to grow fangs when provoked. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the tiny velvet box, opened it, to be sure the rings were safely inside, closed it, and returned it to his pocket, "Yes, sir," he smiled, "ready to go."

"Good," Spike said, not really paying attention to him. Spike's attention was drawn to the small building, far up the footpath; he thought he saw a blur of white, amid the blush of pink the bridesmaids wore. He wanted to be sure, but couldn't risk shifting into the face that was better at night vision, for fear of frightening the minister off, "I think I see her," his face softened, at the vision in gossamer white, floating down the cobblestones, toward him, "Oh, my..." he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Xander was ready for this. After all, underneath the leather and the swagger, Spike really was on old softie at heart. He pulled out his handkerchief, and handed it, with as much macho flourish as he could, to Spike.

Buffy really does look beautiful, Xander thought, as he dabbed his eyes.

---

"So, we have a deal then," Buffy asked Drusilla, "Once I'm sure Spike's all right, you'll get your payment?" Buffy tried to keep her tone even, "The one we agreed on," Buffy nodded, hoping Drusilla was cogent enough to understand, "That's much better than anything Daddy could promise. And, it's a sure thing. Souls can be tricky things," Buffy nodded toward Angel, "Ask your Daddy. Here one minute, and gone the next. Never can trust them."

Dru seemed hesitant, "I don't think that's right. Daddy promised..."

"Ask Miss Edith, if you want to," Buffy interrupted, "Has she ever lied to you?"

"No," Drusilla admitted.

"Buffy, I don't think..." the rest of Angel's comment was cut off by an elbow to the ribs.

"Good," Buffy said, "So, let's get started then."

---

The minister was talking, but he wasn't listening. Spike was busy looking at her. At how the starlight bounced off of her glowing skin, the softness of her palms as he glided his thumbs over them. Her face was glowing with a light he'd never seen in her before, and it was all for him. He looked down, to try to shield his eyes from the brightness, and to hide the fact that he couldn't see for the tears in his eyes, at her small feet. Those small feet, so capable of kicking him until his head fell off, were now adorned in small lace slippers. The slippers were so small, he doubted he could even fit his hand inside them.

He took his eyes off of her feet, and brought them back to their joined hands. His left hand, and hers, was wearing a small, silver ring. It was a little bit of nothing, really. But, it meant so much. He knew, somewhere, his mother was proud. He'd finally found her; his one, his perfect fit.

He looked up when the minister stopped talking. They were expecting something, what was it? Oh right. The kiss.

His lips touched hers just as she bit her lip, bringing a tiny bit of blood to his tongue. This, he had not expected, and his vision exploded in a pyrotechnic display bigger than the Fourth of July.

---

Buffy watched as Drusilla pressed Spike's face to her neck, and let him drink. She could see the muscles in his throat working slowly at first, than faster as his need grew.

Even after the first feeding he was looking much better, almost like he had after Glory had beaten him, if that could be called better. Oh, well, everything is relative, she thought. Of course, there was still no hair, but this was only the first feeding.

Buffy became curious about something, and left the room to talk to Willow.

"Willow, can you tell me what he's seeing?"

"Buffy, you want me to eavesdrop on his magical pain killer," Willow winked at her, "Buffy, I'm shocked."

"Please, Willow," she asked, her eyes downward.

"Sure," she said, closing her eyes, "Just take me a second."

Willow found herself staring at a small white gazebo, next to a candle lit path. She moved in a little closer, to try and see the figures in the center, they looked like a bride and groom. She smiled. Someone was getting married.

She looked closer. Now, she could make out the faces. Once they stopped kissing, she should be able to tell who they were, exactly. Yes, she was right, they were a bride and groom.

"Oh Buffy," she whispered as she opened her eyes, "It's just beautiful," Willow sniffed a little, "You look so beautiful."

"What?" Buffy asked, her body suddenly tight with anticipation.

Willow smiled, "Buffy, he's getting married...to you."

"Really?" she asked, suddenly awash in love for him, "I'm his 'Happy Thought'?"

Buffy knew, for the first time, that even though there were still some miles to go yet, things were going to be all right.


Chapter Nineteen

Dawn watched Spike, and heaved a little sigh of relief. With Drusilla's help, he was getting better, and soon he would be back to his old self. He'd be the 'Big Bad' again, on her case about anything, and everything, she did.

He still looked pretty banged up, but Drusilla promised to be back at sunset, so, everything was going to work out. As long as he didn't have to fight any baddies anytime soon, everything would be fine.

Buffy came into the apartment, after making sure Drusilla was safely stowed at the Hyperian for the day. Drusilla loved the idea of staying at her Daddy's "dollhouse" for the day. She wasn't so hyped about the refrigerated blood, but said, that she would make the sacrifice, to make her boy strong again.

"How's our patient, Dawn?" Buffy asked, quietly shutting the door, trying not to disturb Spike.

Dawn looked at her sister's face. She was pasty white, and the circles under her eyes were darker than Spike's signature wardrobe. Dawn winced at the sight of her, "Better than you, right now," she nodded toward Spike as she said, "You'd better sit down. If he saw you like this," she drew her face up, in a weak imitation of a vampire's visage, "he'd be all 'Grr, argh,' and tell you to go straight to bed, and sleep for two days."

Buffy sighed, coming to stand by her sister, and looking down into Spike's face longingly, "Would almost be worth the hassle; to see him sparkle again, you know?"

Dawn nodded, "Yeah, I know what you mean," she said, "Sometimes, I'd get into trouble, just to see how mad he'd get at me," she smiled, "It let me know he loved me, just a little."

Buffy squinted at Dawn. This was new information, "When was this, Dawnie?"

"That summer. Before Willow did that spell. He was kind of... out of it, for a while. Protecting me, I guess, gave him focus."

"He loved you Dawnie, you know that, right?" Buffy asked, seeing her sister's eyes cloud over with tears, "He loves you now. Just as much, maybe more, than he did then."

"He told you?" she asked, hopeful.

Buffy shook her head, "No, Dawn, he didn't," she smiled, "He was inside my head for a while, remember? I still have to ask Angel how that's even possible. Vampires aren't supposed to be able to cast any type of reflection, not even their thoughts are supposed to reflect," she waved off the thought, "Anyway, I can still hear him sometimes. It's sort of like a buzzing, you know, like background noise? But, sometimes it's real clear," she smiled again, "He comes in really clear when he's thinking about you. He loves you."

"Really?"

"Really, Nibblet," Spike grumbled, from the bed, "And, if you two ladies don't keep it down, I'll never get any sleep."

"Oh," Dawn gasped, covering her mouth, to prevent a squeal of surprise, and joy, from escaping, "Sorry, Spike! I'll be quiet," she said, grinning at him, " I promise!"

Spike opened one eye. His voice and eye, held a barely contained joy, and Buffy knew that, if he'd had the strength, he would've jumped out of bed to hug her sister, and her, "No, you won't, Bit. I know this from experience, Summers girls are never quiet. It's physically impossible for them to be," he paused when he heard a coughing noise from Buffy, "It's just one thing, on the list of a million things, that I love about you two."

"We love you, too, Spike," Dawn said.

Spike caught a glimpse of Buffy, in the corner of the room, trying to disappear into the wallpaper so that she didn't disturb her sister's moment with him, "Bit's right, Love. If I thought it would help, I'd throw you over my shoulder, weak or not, and take you to bed," at Buffy's sly grin, he added, "To sleep! You look like the walking dead! And this is coming from someone who is the walking dead. Get some sleep, Love, you need it."

"I will," she sighed, "Just as soon as I talk to Giles."

"What did old Rupert do now, Love?"

"It's not what he did, it's what he didn't do," Buffy said as she neared the door, "You'll be all right, with Dawn?"

"Yes," Spike said, "I'm sure there's some prepubescent boy band that Bit's just itching to tell me about," he smiled at her, fully awake, "And for once, I can't use the excuse of patrol to skip out on a gripping conversation," he rolled his eyes, "I'm sure she's just loving this. Aren't you, Bit?"

Buffy smiled as her sister nodded her head, vigorously, "I'll be back soon," she said, as she left the apartment.

---

Drusilla sat in front of the empty vanity mirror in the privy of the tiny room in her Daddy's dollhouse and thought of all the countess nights William had spent, brushing her raven tresses until they glowed in the moonlight. Those were some of the happiest nights she'd had. He'd been so loving; she counted herself lucky to have him. It was nights like that, that made her grateful she had listened to Miss Edith that night, long ago, in the stable. That woman hadn't been worthy of having a heart such as his. If that woman couldn't see the wealth he had, she would take it. Most of the wealth that he'd carried that night had flown to Miss Edith, but Drusilla was happy with the little that had been left for her.

Drusilla hadn't wanted to give William to the Slayer. But, her boy had such a strong heart; it knew what it wanted, and it needed the light. Even though she grieved his loss, and had tried to show him that it could be good with her, that he could still be her beautiful poetry, she knew he was like Icarus. He had to fly close to the sun, even if he knew he'd drown because of it.

Then, that evil little sprite had the gall to tell him he was broken. She'd told him that his golden heart wasn't good enough. So, like the brave knight she knew her boy was, he sought the broken piece, the piece he hadn't needed, the part that had been Miss Edith's, to keep, and shoved it in his chest, for all the world to see.

Now, Miss Edith missed her sweet William. Drusilla knew what it was like, to lose someone you loved dearly. She'd lost her Daddy, and William, too, to that nasty little sprite. She couldn't bring them both back, but she could give William back to Miss Edith, and make the Slayer pay, for making William cry.

Daddy had been wrong. But then, Daddy still thought she was a little girl. When she'd been little, she'd wanted her songbird to sing to her again. But, little girls grow up, and put away childish things. Because Daddy had been mistaken, the sprite had given Drusilla the opportunity to bring William back to Miss Edith, and she would be a fool if she didn't take it.

---

Buffy found Giles, talking with Riley, outside the apartment.

She approached Giles, who looked at her with guilty eyes. Good, she thought, maybe now he'll know that I'm not a little girl anymore. "Giles," she said, "we need to talk."

"I know," he said, his head bowed, "Buffy, you have to know, I had my reasons for what I did."

Riley had seen the look in Buffy's eyes before, he knew when to, "duck, and cover." He left to take a noonday stroll. Riley thought that maybe he'd better warn the National Guard, of the impending disaster that he was sure was going to result from the "conversation" that was going to take place. "Excuse me," he said, "while I go find another zip code to be in," he patted Giles's shoulder, in a gesture of sympathy, and left them to talk.

"Giles," Buffy said, "it seems that you might have known about Spike, before, is this true, or did I just imagine that you looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, before Drusilla showed up, last night?"

"I did know," he admitted.

Buffy had expected to be shocked, but she wasn't. She nodded, "Do you mind telling me why you didn't tell me?"

"Buffy, I saw how much you grieved for him. I held you while you cried, while you wondered where it was that he had gone," he sighed, "I knew what you said you felt like, after you'd returned from heaven. You weren't yourself, everything around you brought you pain, and misery," Giles nodded toward the door, and the resting vampire behind it, "If he'd had that, and been torn from it, he mightn't be the same being you had loved. The vampire, who'd risked everything, to save you, and the world you lived in."

Buffy swallowed hard, "Go on," she said.

"If he had gone to some sort of hell," Giles continued, "he might have been wild, unpredictable. He might have been so tortured that he would have been unable to love you, even if he'd wanted to. Buffy, he might have hurt you, regardless of where he'd been. And, I just couldn't risk you being hurt again, if I could do anything to prevent the hurt."

Buffy admired the fatherly instinct, even as she was angry. Giles loved her, more than even her own, biological, father had, "But, Giles," she said through a tight throat, "you can't protect me from life. I learned that, when I tried to protect Dawn like you tried to protect me. Life happens, whether you're ready for it or not," she smiled, a wet smile, "Don't get me wrong, I'm very angry at you right now. But, I understand the impulse. You have to remember, that little girls grow up."

"I think I may need reminding, at times," Giles said.

"The next time you forget that," Buffy said, "I will give you a good right hook to remind you."

"I'd expect nothing less," he said.

---

"You mean, Drusilla's actually here," Spike asked, "I didn't dream that?"

"Nope," Dawn grinned, "She's here. A few more nights, and she says you'll be well enough to travel."

"Travel," Spike was confused, "Bit, where are we going, and what's that you said about a 'deal' with Buffy?"

"Drusilla wants to take you to the Hellmouth. To make you stronger. And, as far as the deal goes, Buffy won't tell me, but I don't care," she said, "as long as you're better."

The fear he felt made his heart freeze, "I care, Bit," he said, "I care, very much."


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