Summary: Seven years after the end of Season six.  Buffy and Dawn left Sunnydale after the tragedy.  Spike never went back after he returned from Africa.  Now Dawn has been kidnapped to force the former Slayer into participating in an annual tournament that pits demons and humans against each other.  Will Spike answer the Slayers call for help?   Of course, or there would be no story.  But will they survive long enough to right the wrongs they’d done seven years before?

AUTHOR: Jypzrose
EMAIL: jypzrose@aol.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Buffy/Spike
SPOILERS: Through the end of Season 6.
DISCLAIMER: BtVS, AtS and all related junk belongs to Joss Whedon, yada, yada, yada.  Just borrowing for brief periods of time for my personal enjoyment.
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Chapter One

Across the smoky, dim interior of the bar, he found her.  His steely blue eyes studied the woman long and hard, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.  Seven long years had passed since he’d last seen her.  Seven years worth of trying to forget.  And just when he finally thought that he could move on, he’d received the message that she needed to see him.  That was the way that it was relayed to him.  She NEEDED to see him.  He couldn’t ever remember a time where she admitted willingly that she needed him. So he came.  He would hear her out, then . . . he’d see.  Sighing heavily, Spike crushed out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bar and started to make his way over to the woman who’s memory had plagued him for years.

She’d changed in the years since he’d left Sunnydale.  Her hair was long again, the braid reaching to her waist.  It was also no longer blonde.  She’d let it go back to the natural chocolate brown of her pre Slayer days.  Even from his distance away, he could see the age etched in her face, making her seem older than her twenty eight years.  She was still too thin, and her clothes were ill fitting.  She was nervously toying with the glass in front of her, her eyes looking down at the table.  He knew she could feel him, could always feel him when he was near. But she was letting him come to her.

Sighing again, he pulled out another cigarette, lighting it as he quickly crossed the remaining distance between them.  He made sure to keep his face stoic, allowing none of the emotions that were churning through him to show.  Love, hate, anger, fear.  All them equaled this tiny woman before him.

“Slayer.” he drawled, raising his cigarette to his lips.  Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth Summers raised her hazel eyes to the pure blue fire of her former lover’s.

“Spike.” she waived a hand towards the chair across from hers.  “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She said when he was settled.  A waitress appeared at their table, smiling sweetly at the blonde vampire.  Returning her smile, he ordered a drink, his eyes lingering a little too long on her retreating form, before turning back to the Slayer.  Anger flashed in her eyes so quickly, he almost thought he had imagined it. *This should be interesting.* he thought.

“Well, I must say I was intrigued.  Never thought you’d try to find me.  Me being chip free and evil, and all.”

“I need your help.” she replied, not rising to his bait.  She toyed with the ring on her finger.

“I figured as much.  That’s all I was ever good for.” Spike took a long drink off the beer the waitress had placed in front of him, this time ignoring her obvious charms, his blue eyes burning into the Slayers.  She met his gaze steady on, searching for any semblance of the Spike that had left her all those years ago.  Seeing nothing, she felt another piece of her heart break.

*Well, what did you expect, idiot?  You treated him like shit.* she berated herself.  How stupid she had been back then.  How easily led by her friends opinions.  And where were her friends now?  Tara was dead.  Anya was a vengeance demon again.  Xander was dead by Willow’s hands.  And Willow was dead by hers.  She had gone against her calling by killing a human.  A human who had been her friend.  The day Willow died was the day she’d packed up Dawn and left Sunnydale.  Walked away from the Hellmouth, the council, and her youth.  She wasn’t Buffy anymore.  Buffy died when the life slipped out of Willow.  All that was left was Liz.  And all Liz had left was Dawn.

So, it didn’t matter if Spike hated her.  She deserved it.  All that mattered was how he felt about Dawn.

“Well, Pet.  What apocalypse do we have to avert now?” Spike asked, breaking into her revery.  He was feeling a little unnerved by the way she was staring at him.

“No apocalypse.” she answered, taking a sip from her glass.  She grimaced as the liquor burned down her throat.  “It’s Dawn.”  The tightening of his fingers around the beer bottle was the only outward emotion he showed, but it was enough. *Good,* she thought, *He still cares.*

“What’s happened to Nibblet?”

Throwing a couple of bills on the table, Liz stood, grabbing her jacket.

“Let’s get out of here.  I don’t want to be overheard.”  He studied her for a long minute, before making his decision.  Draining the beer in front of him, he set the bottle down and rose to follow her.

~ ~ ~

The walk to her hotel was made in silence.  Not the easy, comfortable silences that used to flow around them.  But the tense, uneasy kind that only comes when ex-lovers’ meet again for the first time.

Shivering slightly in the chilly Los Angeles night, Liz huddled deeper into her coat.  She felt a moments amusement that she was wearing a black leather duster.  She’d bought it after she’d realized that she’d never be able to stake Spike and take his.  Shaking off the thought, she climbed the stairs to her room, and unlocked the door.

Flipping on the light, she walked into the room, shrugged out of her coat, and threw it across the bed closest to the door.

The room was shabby, but clean Threadbare grey carpet covered the floor, and faded blue curtains graced the window, under which sat a table and two chairs.  The expected six drawer dresser and mirror combination stretched across the right wall, an old t.v. sitting on top.  Two double beds covered with bedspreads in the same shade as the curtains rested across the opposite wall.  Not the most comfortable, but it was cheap, and it suited her purposes.

Spike stepped in behind her and closed the door.  Pulling off his own duster, he dug his cigarettes out of the pocket before throwing it next to hers.  Lighting up, he sank into a chair by the table and waited for her to begin.

She stood before him, nervously twisting the ring once more.  Her too big, grey t-shirt and sweat pants engulfed her slim frame.  The harsh light from the hotel lamps giving her too pale skin an almost sickly look.  Huge bags were under her eyes, and tiny lines were etched around her mouth.

“Slayer?” Spike prompted, casually smoking his cigarette.

“Don’t call me that.” she said quietly.  His scarred brow raised at that.

“Well, I don’t exactly think that ‘Buffy’ is appropriate anymore.” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the trace of bitterness from seeping into his voice.

“I go by Liz, now.” She told him, offering no further explanation.

“Alright then, ‘Liz’.  Where’s Dawn?”  Taking a deep breath, Liz settled down on the edge of the bed in front of him.

“Have you ever heard of the Underground?” she asked.  He nodded once, indicating he had.

“It’s some sort of tournament for rich weirdos to watch blood and destruction, right.”

“Yeah.  It’s an annual event.”

“What’s this got to do with Dawn?  She didn’t enter the damn thing did she?” He crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. He watched Buf. .  er, Liz rub her hands against her pants, before she began again.

“No.  A couple of years after we left Sunnydale, some guy shows up at my door.  Tall, blonde, Armani suit.  And the coldest grey eyes I’ve ever seen.  Anyway.  I had just gotten off work.  I was tired, and so not in the mood for company.  He introduces himself.  Lucas Bent.  I tell him I’m not buying anything and start to close the door.  He tells me that’s not what he’s there for.  Then he starts to tell me about this Underground.  Tells me it’s a tournament for demons and humans to throw down and see who walks out.  I asked him what this had to do with me.  He looks me dead in the eye, this icy smile on his face, and says ‘You’re the Slayer.’  It wasn’t a question.  He just knows.  Said it would be ‘monetarily beneficial’ to me to participate.  I told him no.  He persisted.  I told him if they wanted a Slayer they would have to wait for Faith to get paroled.  Then I just closed the door in his face.  He showed up every year at the same time for the next few years.  Every time I told him to get lost.” She got up and started to pace, her eyes darting to his and away.  “Until last year.  He never showed up.  I figured that he’d finally gotten the hint.  Then I was watching the news one night” taking a deep breath to fight back tears, she continued.  “The body of a woman had been found in a dumpster behind a warehouse on the docks.  It was Faith.  She was beaten to death, her face nearly unrecognizable, her body completely broken.  I later found out that she had been paroled a couple of months before she was found.  Apparently they had gotten their Slayer.”  And Liz had sent them straight to her.  Add another life to list those that she had ended.

“And he came back.” Spike interrupted, not liking where her story was going.

“Yeah.  A couple of weeks ago, he showed up again.  I told him no again.  Especially after what happened to Faith.  He left.  I thought that was it.”  Liz sat back down on the bed, her shoulders slumped.  “And then, three days ago, I got this.”  Reaching behind her, she grabbed her coat and rummaged through the pockets.  Puling out a long white envelope, she handed it to him.

Reaching out to take the envelope from her, their fingers brushed, sending familiar tingles up their arms.  Both chose to ignore it.

Spike pulled out the letter and picture that accompanied it.  The picture was of Dawn, seemingly asleep on a bed.  He took a moment to study how beautiful she’d become, before putting it aside to read the letter.


Slayer,

I   told you once it would be beneficial to you to participate in the games.  Now I would say it is life or death.

Lucas Bent


“They’re going to kill her if I don’t cooperate.  I got a video, too.  Faith made it to the final round.  She made them a lot of money.  Now they want me.”  Liz said quietly, staring down at her hands.  A part of her was wishing desperately for him to wrap her in his cool, strong embrace and tell her it would be okay.  The other, more realistic part of her was just glad that he was willing to hear her out.

“What do you want from me?” Spike asked.  He wanted nothing more than to go to her, and take away her pain.  But the sharp edge of her rejection hadn’t dulled in the time since he’d last seen her.

“I need somebody to help me train.  I quit slaying after . . . Willow . . .” Liz bit back a sob at the memory of her friend.   Spike grimaced himself , feeling a touch of sadness at the witch’s death.  He’d always liked Red, but the trauma of losing Tara had been too much for her.

“I know, luv.” he told her quietly.  She nodded mutely, relief at not having to explain washing over her.

“I also need somebody to get her out of there.  I know they won’t let her go, even if I manage to make it all ten rounds.  They’ll use her to keep me coming back.  Or kill her if I die.”

“Buf. . .Liz.  Why me?  Why didn’t you ask Angel or Giles?”  He scratched his thumb across his eyebrow, leaning back in the chair.  Liz looked at him, her expression sad.

“They aren’t a part of my life anymore.”

“Neither am I.” he countered, lighting a cigarette.  Liz flinched involuntarily at his words.  If only he knew how wrong he was.

“There’s nobody else that I trust with her life.”  Her words were quiet.  So quiet, that if not for his vampiric hearing, he never would have heard her.  Looking up at him timidly, he saw the truth of her words.  She did trust him.  Running a hand through his now shoulder length, bleach blonde hair Spike sighed heavily and dragged on his cigarette.

Liz studied him as he sat, silently smoking.  He was still so very beautiful, and the added length to his hair did nothing to detract from his masculine sensuality.  If anything, it enhanced it.  It had been pulled back into a tie, but the agitated movement of his hand through the soft tresses dislodged it, causing it to frame the sharp plains of his face.  His dress had changed also.  The duster and black Doc Martins were still there, but the black jeans were replaced by well worn, blue ones.  Gone, too, was the black t-shirt.  In it’s place was a button down shirt in the same color as his eyes.

About a month after he’d left, and after countless hours of grieving for her friends, not to mention the endless hours of missing him, Liz had an epiphany.  She realized that she had been wrong.  She could love him, and did, with her whole heart.  Too late, of course.  It didn’t take her long to figure out that he wasn’t coming back.  She’d left word with Willy where they were going when they left Sunnydale, hoping beyond hope that he would show up.  It never happened.  And Liz couldn’t blame him.

“So.  Will you help me?”  Spike looked back at her, his expression stoic.  On the inside, he was a mess.  Had been since he’d gotten her message.  He still wasn’t sure how she had found him.  But he figured Willy had something to do with it.  Looking at her now, he didn’t know how he’d managed to fool himself into thinking that he was over her.  He had taken other lovers over the years.  All human.  After all those months of being burned by her heat, he couldn’t stomach the idea of mating with a female vampire.  Not even Dru when she had caught up with him in London.

But none of those other woman could compare to her.  She had changed him, turned a soulless killer into someone that wanted to be good.  Even without the chip, Spike had stopped feeding on innocents.  His tastes now ran to the more despicable of the human race.  And when he couldn’t find someone that went against his personal moral code, he bagged it.

And God help him, if that was possible, he still loved her.  Even now, with all the changes, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him.  He still felt pulled to her.  He knew he’d still do anything for her.  However, he wasn’t about to let her know that.

“Let’s get one thing straight, shall we, Pet?” He waited for her to nod before continuing.  “I’m doing this for Dawn.  Not you.  When it’s over, and BOTH of you are out of there, I’m gone again.” his voice was cold, his face a hard mask.

“Back to the Big Bad?” she asked, a slight smile in her lips.

“Something like that.  How long do we have?”

“Three weeks.  I got another letter with the tape that said where and when to show up.  It also said the rules would be explained once we get to the island.”

“I’m going to want to see both.” Spike stood, and reached past her to grab his duster.  Sliding it on, he looked back down at her.  “I have a few things to take care of, then I’ll be back tomorrow night.”  Spike resisted the urge to reach out and touch her.

“Okay.” His eyes remained on hers for a moment more, then he turned to leave.  “Spike.” His hand paused on the door knob.

“Yeah?” He didn’t turn back to look at her, afraid of what he might do.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  He answered.  And then he was gone.

Chapter Two

A/N:  This chapter is set the day of Buffy’s meeting with Spike.  Before they actually see each other in the bar.

Dawn moaned as she swam back towards consciousness.  She attempted to open her eyes, quickly realizing it was a bad idea.  Desperately, her mind tried to gather itself and remember what had happened.  She had gone to a club with a bunch of her friends to celebrate finals being over.  Most of them had the summer ahead of them before starting graduate school, and Dawn was no different.

Buffy, or Liz rather (she still had a hard time remembering to call her that), had nearly shit when she had heard what Dawn intended to study.  Paranormal Psychology.  Liz couldn’t understand why, she herself wanting to forget.  But Dawn couldn’t.  And being a paranormal thing herself, she figured it was good career choice.

Orientating herself the best she could, she attempted to open her eyes again.  She couldn’t remember drinking enough to make her head feel like it was splitting in two.  Then again, she couldn’t remember anything after excusing herself from the guy she’d been dancing with to go to the ladies room.  As her eyes focused on the white ceiling above her, Dawn smiled as she remembered his name.  Rob.  He’d been cute, with longish, wavy, brown hair and expressive brown eyes.  He’d reminded her a bit of Xander, before the wedding disaster.

Dawn blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes at memory of her first crush that swam through her mind.

*Stop it, Dawn.  Figure out where you are, then have a pity party.* Rolling gingerly to her side, her eyes came to rest on the man sitting on a chair next to the bed.  Yelping in surprise, she shot up to a sitting position, and immediately regretted it, as her head began to pound.

“You’re awake.” the man said in a smooth, deep voice.  His dark blonde hair was clipped short and perfectly styled.  Grey eyes sparkled in a face that was tanned and rugged.  Full lips were curved into a smile that showed perfect, white teeth.  His grey suit was tailored to show his leanly muscled body.  A black silk shirt, grey silk tie, and black shoes so highly polished they gleamed completed the outfit.  A diamond and gold pinky ring winked in the light from his right hand.  He gave off the air of money and power.  And something almost sinister shimmered beneath the gloss.

“Where am I?’ Dawn asked with more bravado than she felt.  “And who are you?”

“You may call me Lucas, Ms. Summers.  And you are my guest.” He waved a well manicured hand around the elegant room, his smile never slipping.

“And WHERE am I you’re guest?” she persisted.

“That is not for you to worry about.  As long as your sister agrees to come to our little tournament, all will be well with you.”  Dawn felt a threat of fear work its way through her hazy brain.

“And if she doesn’t?” Of course, she already knew the answer, but some macabre part of her had to ask.

“Well, let me just ask you, how much faith so you have in your sister?”

“She’ll come.” Dawn answered immediately.  Liz had never let her down before.

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about.  Please, relax and enjoy your stay.  Anything you need will be provided.” Lucas stood then, and turned to leave the room.  Pausing at the door, he turned to her once again.  “Oh, and Ms. Summers, don’t even think about escape.  You’ll be dead before you even get out of the compound.”  Flashing on last, chilling smile, Lucas turned and left the room.

Dawn flew off the bed, and towards the door.  Grabbing the doorknob with both hands, she yanked, already knowing she was locked in.  Slamming a hand against the door, she ignored the ache in her head as she screamed a stream of curses that would have made Spike blush.

After venting her frustration and fear for a couple of more minutes, she turned to inspect her gilded cage.

The room was large, seeming to her to be close to the size of hers and Liz’s apartment back in L.A.  The walls were a soft cream color, offset by a pastel blue trim.  To the right of her was a large vanity table, that took up most of the wall.  Several bottles and jars adorned the white surface, which upon further inspection, proved to be very expensive cosmetics and perfumes.  The kind that Dawn had always tried on in stores, but could never bring home.

The drawers were filled with an array of silky and lacy under things, in a variety of colors and styles.  To her surprise, they were all in her size.  A wide, padded bench sat in front of the beveled glass mirror of the table.

A door stood between the vanity and the king sized bed, which Dawn assumed led to the bathroom.  The bed was covered in a soft, blue bedspread, with several small pillows across the top to match.  A watercolor of a pond on a spring day hung over the head.  Inspecting the drawers of the two nightstands, she found selection of magazines and books, similar to the ones she had at home.  Pulling out one in particular, she smiled faintly and ran a hand across the cover.  Putting it aside, she continued her inspection, a creeped out feeling washing over her.

She moved away from the bed and walked over to the closet.  A cursory look around the large walk-in let her know that it was filled with clothes and shoes in her size and the style that she wore.

They’d obviously planned on taking her for a while.

The entertainment center along the wall across from the bed held a big screen T.V., DVD player, movies and a stereo with all her favorite cd’s.

The heels of her boots clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked to bay window opposite the vanity.  Pulling back the cream colored curtain, she stared out onto the sun drenched beach below her.  Sighing heavily at how helpless she felt, Dawn turned from the breathtaking view, and moved to look into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but sigh when she saw the large, black marble, garden tub.  All her favorite shampoos and bath scents were line across the back shelf.  A separate shower stall sat to the left of the tub, and to the right of the sink and vanity mirror.  The toilet was set discreetly back in an alcove behind the door.  The floor and sink were in the same black marble as the tub.

Moving back to the bedroom, Dawn threw herself across the bed, where she stayed as the sun set in the sky.

“Please hurry, Liz.” was the last she had, as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

~ ~ ~

“Just be there.” Spike growled into the phone before hanging it up, and slipping it back into his duster.  Turning, he looked down at the sleeping form of his latest lover.  She was as different from Liz as he could find.

Tall and leggy, with lush curves, and a wild black mane of hair.  She had olive colored skin and violet eyes.  She loved life and attacked it with a ferocity that matched his own.  She knew what and who he was, and accepted both the demon and the man, never asking him to deny either.

Not for the first time, Spike wished that he could love this woman that had been warming his cold body for the last several months.  Shaking his head, he gently ran the back of his knuckles over the curve of her cheek.

“Vanessa.” he called softly.  Stretching leisurely, she rolled over, the sheet slipping down to reveal one perfect breast.  Opening her eyes, a smile touched her full lips.  It slowly disappeared as she studied his face, her dark, delicate brows drawing together.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.  Her soft, honeyed voice held no anger as she looked at him.  Vanessa had know that she wouldn’t be able to keep him.  He belonged to another.  She was just glad that she had been able to borrow him for awhile.

“She needs me.” he said simply.

“The you should go to her.” Her hand cupped his cheek, understanding filling her eyes.  Spike never knew how he got so lucky to know this woman.  She had gone along way towards helping him heal.  But she had always known that it was the Slayer that held his heart. Leaning down, he kissed her softly, lingering a little to savor her taste.

“I’ll be back.” he said, before grabbing his bag and walking out of the bedroom.  Vanessa smiled sadly, a lone tear drifting down her cheek as she heard the front door open and close.

“No you won’t.  Goodbye, Spike.”

~ ~ ~

Spike had just raised his drink to his lips, when he felt a large hand grip his shoulder.

“Took you long enough.” he sneered, not turning around.  He slammed the shot back as the owner of the hand slipped onto the barstool nest to him.  Spike motioned to the bartender to set him up again, and indicated he should set one up for his companion.

“What do you want, Spike?”

His scarred eyebrow shot up at the derisiveness of the tone.

“So, it’s like that, is it?” he smirked, ignoring the small stab of pain in his undead heart. *Should be used to this by now, Ponce.* he scoffed at himself.

“What did you expect?  I haven’t heard from you in six years.  Then you call, tell me to meet you here, and hang up before I’ve said much more than hello.”

“Ah, Peaches.  You missed me.” Spike’s tone was mocking.  “What?  Were you pissed that I wasn’t around when you had an itch to scratch.”  His jaw clenched, his eyes turned to ice and his voice was bitter.  “That’s all I was ever good for anyway.” he finished, knocking back his drink.  The alcohol tasted sour as it burned down his throat.    The last time he had seen his sire, Angel was still reeling from the return of his then sixteen year old son after being kidnapped by some ponce whose family Angel had killed.  He had taken one look at the drunken, depressed Spike at his door and hauled him upstairs.  He then proceeded to use him violently, over and over again until the blonde vampire had passed out from the pain and the pleasure of it.  It had taken Spike days to recover.  And as soon as he did, he left without a backwards glance.

“Are you talking about me, or Buffy?”

“There’s a difference?’ Spike asked with a harsh laugh, glaring into the brown eyes of his sire.

“What do you want?” Angel asked again, sipping his drink.

“I need you to get me some equipment.  A couple of transmitters.  Small.  Undetectable.  I can pay.” Spike found himself wanting to get out of there in a hurry.  Seeing both Liz, then Angel within twenty four hours of each other was proving to much for him.  That compiled with saying goodbye to Vanessa was enough to make him want to crawl into the nearest hole and drink himself into a coma.

“And you think I’ll get this for you, why?”

“Don’t be a git.” Spike snarled.  “You’re the only person I know that can get this stuff.”

Angel quirked his eyebrows up and studied his wayward childe.  He was tense, obviously.  Angry, for sure.  But there was something deeper there that Angel couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What do you need them for?” Spike stared down at his empty glass for a moment, contemplating his answer.  Should he tell him?  Would it make Angel’s help come easier?  He still didn’t understand why Liz hadn’t gone to her first love before him.  Sighing heavily, Spike turned to face his sire, all animosity stripped from his face.

“Buffy.”  Angel tensed visibly, his fingers tightening on the glass.  Spike quickly explained what happened to Dawn and why.

“Why would I want to help her?’ Angel asked, sounding entirely too much like Angelus for Spike’s liking.

“Well, let’s see.  Maybe because she was the love of your pathetic unlife.  Or maybe because she’s supposed to be your bloody soul mate.  Or how about because you’re supposed to be some soddin’ champion that’s supposed to help the helpless.  Does any of that work for you?”  Spike growled out, anger flaring in his eyes again.

“Buffy’s hardly helpless.  She’s the Slayer.” Angel retorted, his own anger rising.  Spike’s eyes widened comically at the coldness of the other vampire’s voice.

“Not any more.  Everyone she has ever loved has been ripped out of her life.  She has nothing.  NOTHING!”

“She has you.” Angel pointed out, simply.

“She’ll always have me.  And I thought she would always have you.” Spike’s tone was accusatory as he glared at Angel.

“Don’t try guilt with me when it comes to her.  It doesn’t work anymore.”

Unneeded air hissed through Spike’s teeth.

“You’re one hell of a piece of work, aren’t you Peaches?”

“You don’t know anything about it, Spike.  Don’t judge me.” The brunettes’ voice was dangerously low.

“So enlighten me, ponce.  What could that girl have done that would make you turn on her like this?”

“Ask her.”

“You know what?  Never fuckin’ mind.  Shoulda known you wouldn’t help.  Just pretend that  we never had this conversation.  And don’t worry, you’ll not be bothered by us again.” Spike threw money on the bar, glared one last time at Angel and stormed out into the night.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, when Spike went back to retrieve his car, he found a thin brown box sitting on the front seat.  Opening the box, he found two transmitters, no bigger than a pencil eraser, and as thin as tissue.  A short note from Angel told him how they worked and how to place them so they wouldn’t be detected.  There was also a receiver, so they could be tracked.

With as smirk, Spike pulled out his cell phone to put his plan into action.

Chapter Three

A/N: What I meant to say at the beginning of the last chapter is that the Dawn portion of that chapter happens before the Spike/Buffy meeting.  The Spike portion happens after.  Now that I have cleared that up- on with the story.

Liz paced restlessly across her motel room, checking things off her mental ‘to do’ list.  She’d stopped her mail at the post office.  She’d given her land lord three months rent.  Since she’d never taken a vacation since she started her job as a paralegal, she had twelve weeks saved up.  So at least her time away from work would be paid.  Luckily, she had direct deposit.  She’d had the utilities turned off in her apartment.  The cat was in a kennel.  And she had managed to rent a small dojo for her and Spike to train in.  That had taken a nice chunk out of her savings, but it couldn’t be helped.  She’d worry about getting out of debt later.  It wasn’t like she had the Magic Box to go to anymore.

A sob escaped her throat at that thought.  Images of her friends sitting around the table researching the newest Big Bad slammed into her mind.  After all these years, the wounds hadn’t even begun to scab over.  Liz found herself again trying to think if there could have been any thing she could have done different to change the past.  Again, she came up with a million things, but none of it mattered.  Xander, Tara and Willow were still dead, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

Thankfully, a hard knock sounded on the door, pulling Liz away from her depressing thoughts.  There was one person she loved who needed her.  And Liz wouldn’t let her down.

Opening the door, she stepped aside so Spike could enter.  Dropping his bag on the first bed, he turned to look at her, a scowl crossing his handsome face.

“Cor, Sl. . .Liz.  When’s the last bloody time you ate a hot meal?” he asked.  Liz was wearing a white sports bra and black capri leggings.  Her arms were thin, almost sticks, and her ribs could be seen clearly through her skin.  Her collarbone was a sharp edge above her breasts.  Her dark hair was pulled up into a haphazard knot, with most of its length cascading down her back, exposing the thin line of her throat.

“I ate today.” she answered, defensively.

“What, and when?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest, the leather of his duster creaking with his movements.

“A bagel.  This morning.” Spike’s scowl became deeper and he reached for her coat.

“Let’s go.” he said, throwing it at her.

“Where?”

“To get you something to eat.” Seeing the anger flash in her eyes, Spike suppressed a smile. *There she is.* he thought to himself.  “Pet, you aren’t going to do li’l Bit any good if you’re not in top form.  You need to be strong to get that way.  And to get strong, you need to take care of yourself.  The first step, is to get some decent food into you.  You couldn’t even slay a spider right now, luv.”

She glared at him for that comment, but shoved her arms into the leather.  Huffing angrily, she turned on her heel and stalked out the door.  Spike found himself hard pressed not to chuckle as he followed her.

~ ~ ~

Ten minutes later found the unlikely duo sitting in a booth of a small, but comfortable restaurant.  The tables were set with red and white checkered table cloths, and fat, drippy candles sat in the middle.

The benches and tables were dark wood, scarred with age.  The darkened atmosphere was more suited for quiet, romantic interludes.  Not the power struggle that was currently being waged between the former vampire Slayer and her former vampire lover.

“You WILL eat something more than a salad.” Spike ground out through clenched teeth.  Liz glared back at him furiously, as their poor waiter stood anxiously by, ready to scramble out of the way if they turned violent.

“You said I had to eat.  THAT'S what I want to eat.”

“That would barely keep a soddin’ rabbit alive, pet.  You need something to put meat back on you.” came his reply.  Deciding to order for her, he turned towards the frightened looking waiter and smile assuredly.  “Two steaks.  Make sure mine still has some moo, in it, mate.  Baked potato with the works for her, and give her the salad to.  But none of that no fat, low fat dressing nonsense.  Bring her a soda, and I’ll have a beer.  Got that?” Spike asked him, ignoring her indignant sputtering.  The waiter nodded his head profusely, backing away from the table.  His eyes danced between the angry duo, then he spun around and scurried towards the kitchen.

“Listen, Fang Face.  Just because I asked for your help, it doesn’t mean you get to go all ‘Lord and master’ on me.”  Liz shot at him as soon as the waiter was gone.

“It does if you WANT my help.  You need to eat food that will fuel you, not burn away after a brisk walk.  We’ve got some hard training to do, luv.  And if you want to save Dawn, you WILL listen to me.”

Liz sat back and glared at him as the waiter reluctantly approached the table.  Setting their drinks down, he left as quickly as he had come.

“And, another thing.” Spike continued.  “No more of this ‘Liz’ business.  You’re going in there as the Slayer.  You need to get yourself back into that frame of mind.  Running away from it won’t help you do that.”

“I hate you.” she mumbled, memories of another time surfacing for both of them.

“Yeah.  And I’m all you’ve got.”

~ ~ ~

“Who is he?” Lucas asked as he studied the tape.  The Slayer and a blonde man were having a tense conversation, both oblivious to the man that had been following them.

“He’s a vampire.  Goes by the name of Spike, Mr. Bent.” Lucas smiled as he turned his chair to face the man behind him.  The same young man that had been dancing with Dawn at the club.

“Spike, huh.  Interesting.”  His smile grew broader as he thought about the possibilities.  His mind turned over all the information he had learned about the Slayer.  Being a very rich man, it hadn’t been hard to find out at all.  But with everything he had found out, the last being he had expected her to go to for help was the soulless, de-chipped William the Bloody.  He’d had his people watching the other, Angel, since they had taken Dawn.  But other than the one meeting with this same blonde vampire, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at Angel Investigations.  Now that he saw them together, Lucas figured that Spike had gone to his sire for help, and had been refused.  Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he realized he would have to watch this new player carefully.

He was surprised she hadn’t tried to contact her watcher in England, either.  Instead, choosing this demon that, according to his reports, she hated.

“What should we do if they show up together at the docks?” the young man asked, a little unnerved by the smile playing across his bosses lips.

“Nothing, Robert. Make sure there are provisions on the boat and in the room for the vampire.”  Lucas instructed, turning back to the screen.

“But, sir. . .” The steely glint in Bent’s eyes cut of Robert’s protests.  “Yes, sir.” he answered instead, and turned to leave the room.

Returning his eyes to the screen, he resumed watching the agitated couple as they finished their meal and left the restaurant.

~ ~ ~

“Well, here it is.  Not much, but is should suit our purposes.”  Buffy said, leading Spike into the building.  Flipping a switch on the wall, harsh light spread through the room, revealing thick blue mats covering the concrete floor.  A pommel horse stood in the far left corner, and a weight bench occupied the other.  Midway between the pommel horse and the front door, a large punching bag hung suspended from the ceiling.  Spike quickly moved across the space to inspect the doors against the opposite wall..

The first led to a community bathroom, with a shower area on the right, and stalls for the toilets on the left.  Sinks lined the back wall.  The second open door, led to a kitchen area, complete with refrigerator, sink, coffee pot and microwave.  A small kitchenette table took up the wall opposite the door.

Another door led to a small office, with a janitors’ closet in the corner.  Nodding his approval, Spike made his way back to the main room.

“We have to cover that window.” he said, indicating the picture window that dominated the space by the door.

“I know.  I already bought some black paint.”

“Good.  Let’s get our stuff from the hotel.  We’ll be holing up here.”

“Huh?” Spike rolled his eyes and prayed to the God that had forsaken him for patience, before continuing.

“After that’s done, we’ll get some supplies, and start training tomorrow.”

“Hole up here?  You mean as in to sleep?” Buffy wrinkled her nose at him, letting him know what she thought of that idea.

“Listen, pet.  There’s no reason for you to pay for a room, when we will be perfectly fine here.”

“But it smells.” she protested.  “And there are no beds.”

“Slayer, get over your delicate sensibilities.  Everything we need is right here.”

“Fine.” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you going to fight me on everything?  Need I remind you that you came to ME?” his long legs crossed the distance between them, bringing him within half a foot of her.  Mimicking her stance, his angry blue eyes flashed yellow as he stared down at her.  Buffy’s ire disappeared as quickly as it had sprung up.

“No.  I’m sorry.  Old habits die hard I guess.” she said, giving him a weak smile.

“Yeah.” Spike agreed, as he felt his body hardening in response to her nearness.  Shaking it off, he started towards the door.  “Right, then.  Let’s get this business started, shall we?”  Buffy nodded as she followed him back out into the night, locking the door behind them.

~ ~ ~

Spike waited outside the hotel office while Buffy checked out.  Watching his cigarette smoke curl into the air, he thought about what he was doing.  He was in trouble, he knew.  He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to walk away from her again, after this was all over.  If they even managed to survive at all.

His demon, his heart, and his supposedly non existent soul were all screaming at him to take her, claim her the way he should have before, and make her his once and for all.

*But Buffy was never really yours to begin with, mate* he thought bitterly.  And, boy, had he screwed up.  In a desperate attempt to make her admit her feelings for him, he’d tried for another bit of the rough and tumble, with heavy emphasis on the rough.  In the state of mind he was in, he hadn’t realized that she was saying ‘NO’, and meaning it.  She’d managed to overpower him, and then proceeded to rip him a new one right proper.

Spike had felt shame for the third time in his unlife.  The first time being when he’d gotten busted with that damn ‘bot.  The second when he’d gotten piss drunk with Anya, then shagged her, moaning Buffy’s name all the while.  Luckily, Anya hadn’t gone all vengeancey on him, because she was moaning Xander’s name just as loudly.  Unluckily, however, the pair was unaware of the camera that had been placed in the Magic Box by the Tri-dorks.  They had no idea they were putting on a live porn show for their exes, who had found the nerds new hide out.

And the third time, when Buffy had sent him away, disgust and loathing shining in her eyes.  Spike had wanted to stake himself, or watch the sunrise for the first time in over a century.  He’d done a lot of things in his time before the chip, but rape was one particular evil he’d never had the stomach to commit.

He’d left for Africa the next day, determined to get the chip out and prove to Buffy that he’d changed.  It was on the trip back that Spike had realized that no matter what he did, she’d never see him as anything other than an ‘evil, disgusting, thing.’  That’s when he decided to leave Sunnydale.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t outrun her memory, and he had found himself in L. A., standing at his sire’s door, hoping that Angel could tell him how to get over the girl.  But Angel hadn’t wanted to talk.  Just used him like he always had, disgust for his childe radiating out of him even as he drove himself into Spike.  Punishing the blonde for whatever imagined wrong Angel felt he’d done. Spike never bothered to ask

“Ready?” Buffy asked, coming up behind him.

“Yeah.” he answered, crushing his cigarette under his boot, shaking off the memories of the past.  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey jeans, as he fell into step beside the Slayer.  His red t-shirt hugged his chest and stomach, reminding Buffy of the tightly muscled body beneath.  She would have loved to find out why he changed the way he dressed.  His long, blonde hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck by a simple black band.  Her fingers itched to run through it and see if it was still as soft as she remembered.

Walking in silence, they stopped at a couple of stores along the way back to the dojo, to pick up sleeping bags, food and drink for Buffy, and blood for Spike.

Buffy eyed him under her lashes as they waited at the butcher’s for his order.  Spike caught her when he reached to take the bag from the suspicious man behind the counter.

“What?” he queried as they walked back into the night.

“I didn’t figure you’d bag it anymore.” she replied.  There was no accusation in her voice, no disgust on her face.  Just a look of curiosity.  “You know, being without the chip, now.”

“Won’t have time to hunt.” was all he said.  No need for more, when this situation was only temporary. *Right, temporary.  And I’m the Queen mum.* Spike told his inner voice to shut up.

“I guess not.”  They quickly made there way back to their new home, both feeling apprehensive at having to be in such close contact with the other over the next couple of weeks.

Letting them in, Buffy moved through the training room to the office.  Opening the janitors’ closet, she pulled out the cans black paint and brushes.  Spike put their purchases away, then went to help her paint the window in the last few hours before sunrise.

When he walked over to her, Buffy was teetering precariously on an old metal stool, trying to reach one of the corners.  A squeal escaped her when she realized she was falling.  Spike was behind her in an instant, snatching her out of the air as she was twisting to land on her knees, instead of her butt.  Her momentum pushed him backwards, and Buffy found herself sprawled along the hard length of his body. Her hands were splayed across his cotton covered chest, her face pressed against his shoulder.

Breathing deep, she inhaled his scent, feeling some of the fear that had been her constant companion recently, slip away.  Buffy felt her body start to respond to his, and hesitantly raised her head.  She caught a flash of desire in the blue depths of his eyes, before he quickly covered it up.

“You okay, Pet?” he asked her, his cool breath tickling her cheeks.  Buffy’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, every nerve on fire as familiar feelings assaulted her.  She knew he wasn’t unaffected, could feel the evidence pressed intimately against her thigh.  She nodded slowly, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

Spike’s eyes darkened at her innocent action. *Bugger* he thought as he brought a hand up to cup the back of her neck.  She lowered her head at the same time he raised his, their eyes fluttering closed the instant before their mouths touched.  They both moaned at the contact, and deepened the kiss without prompting from the other.  Buffy’s fingers fisted in the front of his shirt as Spike’s tongue dance sensually over hers.

*So sweet* he thought, his hand tangling in her hair to prevent her from pulling away.  When all she did was try to wiggle closer, Spike flipped them, settling himself on top of her.  Her satisfied moan filled him as he continued to plunder her mouth.  His cool fingers skimmed across the bare skin of her side, causing her to shiver beneath him.

Buffy was lost in the scent, feel and taste of him.  She’d missed him so much.  So wrapped up in the sensations she was feeling, that when he pulled away, she cried out from the loss.

“Spike?” she questioned, sitting up.  He stood, with his back to her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.  His body was taut with tension, as he tried to regain control of his hormones.  “Spike?”

“Don’t, Buffy.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly.  He let out a bitter laugh, causing her to flinch.

“No, pet.  But this. . . can’t happen again.  You don’t feel anything for me, and I can’t, won’t, go through that again.”

*I hurt him so badly* Buffy thought, staring at his rigid back.  Her heart begged her to tell him he was wrong, that she had nearly let herself die without him.  That if it hadn’t been for Dawn, she probably would have died from the pain of losing everything that had ever meant anything to her, including him.  But her sensible self took over, telling her that he wasn’t ready to hear it.  Wouldn’t be ready to believe.

“Spike. . .” she started, only to be cut off once more.

“You don’t have to say anything.  Let’s just get this window taken care of, shall we.  Then we can get some rest.”  Never turning to look at her, Spike picked up the paint brush and can, then climbed up on the stool himself.  His long arms had no problems reaching the corners.

Buffy had no choice but to pick up the other paint brush and can.  Starting on the other side of the window, they worked in silence.  The oppressiveness of it nearly choking her.