CoF - Kallysten - Practically Perfect

Summary: "If she were to transform Spike into the perfect man, a man she could not only work with but also, maybe, love, what would she change?"

AUTHOR: Kallysten
EMAIL: kallysten_fr@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://www.original-midnight.org/kallysten/
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Buffy/Spike
DISCLAMER : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
DISTRIBUTION : Sure, just tell me where.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Starts same night as Crush. Challenge Fic.
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Chapter 1: Crushed

Tired of staring at the ceiling above her, Buffy gave up on trying to sleep and got out of bed. A quick look at her alarm clock informed her it was just past two in the morning. Perfect time for an impromptu patrol, which was the perfect way to clear her mind and tire her body so that she would be able to sleep. Too many hours, already, spent brooding about what had happened. Too many hours spent feeling sorry for herself about her love life, or lack thereof. Great track record, really, she reflected bitterly as she threw on sweat pants and a pull over. Twice, she had had something serious, and twice, they had literally run away from her. And now this…

She tied her hair in a sloppy ponytail, grabbed a stake that she thrust into the waistband of her sweats, and noiselessly slid out of the window. She needed, very badly, to relieve some tension. And kill something. And if that something happened to be Spike, even better. She still couldn’t believe she hadn’t staked him yet. He had chained her to a wall, threatened to feed her to his insane ex, and she still hadn’t done what she should have done a long, very long time ago. It wasn’t like she had lacked occasions to do it, and she couldn’t understand how after all these fights he was still alive, as a manner of speaking.

But that wasn’t the worst. The worst was that he said he loved her. It was all just sick and degrading and gross. How on earth could a demon, a vampire, this vampire, even dare look at her, the Slayer, with anything else but fear? How could he imagine a single second that whatever he felt, if he was even capable of feeling anything, was love? Where had he gotten the incredible delusion that she could ever feel anything for him other than disgust? He was a vampire, for crying out loud! Even if he hadn’t been so annoying, obnoxious, self-centered and sexy, he was still… wait a minute… sexy?! Where the hell had that come from? Nothing sexy about him! Especially not in that old smelly leather, with the black on black look, the constant innuendos and the sickening scent of cigarettes, booze and blood. Nope. Not sexy. Just a slip of the mind.

She had to be more tired than she had thought if she could forget even for a second what he was to think instead of the angles of his cheekbones and the shadows on his face when the light hit it just so, of the perfect proportions of his body and how well she fit against him, since that memory had stuck with her since their Willow-induced engagement. And that wasn’t the only memory she had, alas. She remembered all too well also that no one before or after him had ever kissed her with as much intensity, as much passion, as much… yes, love, even if it had been magically created then. If he hadn’t been a vamp, hadn’t been evil, and just plain insufferable, she might have enjoyed getting a few more kisses from these luscious...

And again, where had that thought come from? She really needed sleep, or a boyfriend, or both, if she could think of Spike’s lips with anything else than repulsion. As forcefully as she could, she shoved the disturbing reflections to the darkest corner of her mind, the one that also hosted the ‘who cares about the loophole’ idea, and tried to focus on why she was out at this hour. Slaying.

As she walked through the graveyard’s gate she realized that her steps had led her to a cemetery across town from Spike’s. On one hand, it was good, because she certainly didn’t feel like seeing him, not now, not ever again. But on the other hand, that made her chances to come across him and dust him once and for all rather limited.

The night was quiet, the almost full moon casting long shadows in the graveyard, and she was rather disgruntled when, after half an hour, she still hadn’t found anything to slay. Muttering under her breath, she sat on a grave marker, toying with the stake in her hand. Was that what life would be like for her until she got killed in the line of duty? Loneliness, late night strolls in cemeteries, good guys running away because they couldn’t understand what she was, and, the rotten cherry on top of the stale cake, creepy demons deciding that she was made for them? What was it about her that had attracted Spike? What could possibly have drawn his interest to someone he used to hate, someone he had tried to kill more than once? Was there something wrong with her, something that broadcasted to the normal male population that she was to be avoided, and to demons that they should try their luck? Of course, she might have had a little itsy bit part of responsibility there. She had fallen for a vampire before. But that had been very different, Angel was nothing like Spike. He had a soul, for one thing, and did good deeds, and… well, and he had left. One sure thing about Spike, he wasn’t the type to give up when he couldn’t get what he wanted on the first try. Which was exactly why she should have staked him tonight, instead of simply de-inviting him from her home and telling him to leave town. She was just sure he wouldn’t…

Slayer senses tingling snapped her out of her thoughts and warned her about an approaching member of the undead club, behind her, slightly to the left. At last, some action! She let him get close, and just when the vamp was lunging at her, she jumped off the tombstone and on him. For a fraction of second, as she saw the flash of blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight, she thought it was Spike, but she quickly realized it wasn’t. Just your average vamp, not even very good at escaping her kicks and punches as she launched wave after wave at him, imagining it was another blonde she was venting on. But the illusion was not working, because Spike fought so much better than this guy that the comparison wasn’t even funny. Except that now he couldn’t lay a finger on her without getting a headache. What did a Slayer have to do to get some kind of a challenge around here? Well, short of running into Glory again, of course, and she would avoid that if at all possible.

Sobered by the sudden intrusion of the hell goddess in her mind, Buffy put an end to the fight, and to the vamp. For a minute, she stared at the ashes falling on the ground. Vampires, she could dispatch without a second thought, but Glory… She didn’t know if she ever would be able to take her, one on one, and that scared her. She had to protect Dawn. Not because she was a mystical key or whatever, but because she was her sister. And to protect her, it was clear that she needed help. All the help she could get. Help that included Willow and her witchy spells, but that had proved dangerous and her friend still had the headaches and nosebleeds to prove it. The other person she could have counted on, mostly, had been Spike. She hadn’t needed to think twice before bringing her mom and sister to him after Glory had found where they lived. And he had helped on her birthday night, or tried to at least. But what he had done and said tonight changed everything.

“Heck, why did that stupid vampire fall in love with me?” she mumbled under her breath, kicking repeatedly at a stone as she walked toward the cemetery’s exit. “I don’t want him to love me! It would just be so much easier if he didn’t. At least then I could ask for his help without him expecting anything more than cash.”

Startled, Buffy raised her stake and spun, ready to strike the intruder. She hadn’t heard a sound until the woman spoke. No vampire warning either, so she stopped her arm before she could hurt her. She wasn’t human, though, judging by her deformed face. She had brown curly hair, and was wearing an odd, frilly dress.

“Who are you?” Buffy asked, taking a careful step back. “What are you?”

Smiling, she extended her hand toward Buffy, but the Slayer did not take it, considering the so-called justice demon somewhat suspiciously. Her smile wavered slightly at Buffy’s refusal to shake her hand, but she did not seem otherwise upset.

“Ah, but the real question is, what do you want, Buffy,” the demon replied pleasantly. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you have some trouble with a man, or rather a vam…”

“This is none of your business,” Buffy interrupted, her grip on the stake tightening unconsciously.

“Well, it can be my business if you wish it so,” Halfrek said, still smiling. “As I said, I am a justice demon. Which means that I grant deserving people wishes to make up for the injustices of fate. And you, it seems to me, are particularly deserving.”

Wondering where all this talk was going, Buffy crossed her arms and made a noncommittal noise.

“I know it started with your father, and just for that I would help you, but you’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? And you need someone so much…”

“Hey!” Buffy cut in, exasperated. “I need no one! I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself.”

“Is that so? Just a minute ago, you were saying you needed the help of that person.”

“Yeah, but it’s strictly job related! And he’s not a person, he’s a vampire!”

“But sometimes job and personal life can go together quite nicely,” she said sweetly. “And if you have prejudices against vampires, we could fix that little problem.”

“Make him non vampire,” the demon explained with a touch of impatience. “Make him exactly as you would like him to be. So you can have someone to help you in your… job, and someone that you can love, too. It will only take a wish.”

A warning started buzzing in Buffy’s head, just as the unbidden image of fresh, delicious lips made her lick her own. Make the vampire who loved her human, and get rid of all his annoying traits so that she could love him too? This was way too tempting, to be completely honest with herself.

“What’s the catch?” she asked harshly. “You get my first born or something? ‘Cause let me warn you, Slayer here, so the chances of living long enough to have a baby are rather slim.”

The demon laughed, clear chimes in the night. “Goodness, no such thing! As I said, I’m a justice demon, righting wrongs. But I see you’re not interested, so…”

“No, wait!” Buffy exclaimed despite herself, and Halfrek looked at her expectantly. “I mean… can I think about it?”

The warning buzzed even louder, but she ignored it, just as she tried to ignore the strange but not exactly unpleasant feeling that thinking of Spike’s lips on her own never failed to bring forth, and which was the reason why she could never let him get close enough to renew the experience. A danger to society and good morals, these lips. And those hands…

She tried also to convince herself that she wasn’t doing anything wrong, just asking some time to think. It was unlikely she would get through with it, but thinking couldn’t hurt, right? And she could ask Giles to check this ‘justice demon’ thing, maybe they were dangerous and she would have to get rid of the too smiling woman. Yes. That was it. Just being sneaky and doing her Slayer job, nothing more than that.

“Alright, I give you a couple of days. Just call my name out loud if you decide to use my services. I won’t be far.”

The demon flashed her a grin, snapped her fingers, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Buffy watched it dissipate, a light frown playing on her features. She couldn’t fool herself; she didn’t want Giles’ opinion. She couldn’t help wondering why she was even considering it. Demons, wishes and magic? She ought to know better than that, being the Slayer and all. But a little daydreaming might be nice, she answered that too reasonable voice in her head, and perfectly innocent and harmless. Now, that was a question deserving some thought. If she were to transform Spike into the perfect man, a man she could not only work with but also, maybe, love, what would she change? Not his way to kiss, that was for sure.

With a lighter bounce to her step, she made her way home, stripping in her mind the image of the insufferable vampire of everything that made him unbearable, be it bad habits or, she might as well admit it to herself, unattractive clothes. Physically, not a flaw, except maybe the hair. But the attitude… Yes, with a few modifications, she might be able to find Spike romantically interesting. Spike? Nope. William. Much better. Didn’t sound so… weird. Because introducing someone with ‘and this is my boyfriend, Spike’ certainly was bound to bring awkward questions that she might as well avoid if possible. Not that she would ever introduce him to anyone as her boyfriend, it was just pointless musings, albeit fun.

She sneaked back inside the still sleeping house and slipped into bed. She found slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow, and started dreaming of a certain blonde man. Except that he wasn’t chaining her to a wall to declare his undying flame, but rather taking her for a romantic stroll on the beach at sunset. A human Spike? The material dreams were made of!

Chapter 2: You Were Made to Love Me

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Based on the episode "I Was Made to Love You", with a few modifications. Hope you enjoy, hope you review.

Done with training, Buffy grabbed a towel to dry her face and watched, a little amused, as Xander tried to reach the zipper of his padded sumo suit. After a few seconds, she took pity on him and stepped closer to help.

“Thanks Buffster. So, you sure you don’t want any help with your pest problem?”

“No, that’s OK. I doubt he’ll be any more annoying now than he was before. But thanks.”

Finally freed of the protection suit, Xander made a few stretching movements, and winced slightly. He had been serving as a human punching bag for Buffy for the last twenty minutes, but even with the padding it seemed like he was sore. And for some reason that made Buffy feel a bit guiltier about hiding things from him and the rest of the Scoobies. Well, not so much hiding things as not giving all the details.

When she had come in to the Magic Box to train earlier, Willow had already told everyone that Spike had feelings for her. For some reason, Buffy had felt compelled to play it down, and kept quiet about what exactly had happened at the crypt. She had just told them she had had a little talk with Spike, and that had been it. No reason to upset them. Especially if she decided to…

No. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right to just wish him to be different. What if she still didn’t love him then? It would be even worse, because then he could stalk her day and night, and she wouldn’t even be able to beat him for it anymore.

But on the other hand, wouldn’t she be doing him a favor by giving him a second chance at being human? It wasn’t like he was a real vampire anyway, with the chip preventing him from feeding and killing.

Of course, he had to be there, Buffy thought as she glared at the vampire in front of her. She had been having such a nice time, dancing, talking with Ben, just having fun, and there he was. Of course he hadn’t left town. Of course he wasn’t going to. Of course it wasn’t a coincidence that he was at the same party as she was.

And he said that with that small smile, as if convinced she would accept, as if only a few hours before she hadn’t told him in no uncertain terms to leave her alone, as if right now she wasn’t staring down at him.

“Why can’t you take a hint?” she hissed, irritated. “You vampire, me Slayer, not a chance in…”

He made a face as he said the name, almost as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. Buffy gaped at him disbelievingly.

“How do you dare even compare yourself…” she choked on the words. “You’re not even half…”

Buffy was somewhat glad for Ben’s return, for she had been very close to making a scene and throwing Spike through a window. That he dared fling what she had shared with Angel to her face, as if she could ever have that with him!

She expected a witty comeback of some sort, but nothing came. She glanced back just in time to see a flash of platinum hair and black leather exit the building.

For a few minutes, she made small talk with Ben, but even as she did a part of her mind was analyzing him as prospective boyfriend. He was cute, certainly, and his sense of humor was interesting, if not always outright hilarious. But his reaction at hearing that demons existed and that her night job was to slay them? She could see it from here. Stare at her unbelievingly, suggest some kind of mental help, and run away as quickly as…

A sudden loud crash startled everybody present and the band stopped playing. A frail looking young woman had just thrown a man through a window, and he was still on the ground, apparently unconscious. Without thinking, Buffy stepped in and tried to talk to the girl, only to discover for herself her unusual strength. What was it, another Glory-type girl, who instead of being a God was a robot, and who wasn’t looking for a Key but instead for ‘Warren’? As if Buffy didn’t have enough problems already…

On his way home after his latest amicable chat with the Slayer, Spike entered a liquor store and picked up half a dozen of his favorite friends. Dutifully, he brought them to the counter, where the clerk rang the sale and packed the bottles in brown bags. Holding the man’s eyes, Spike shifted to game face and flashed him a fangy grin.

“Option A,” he told the suddenly wide eyed, quaking human, “I leave without paying. Option B, I kill you before you can even touch that pistol under the counter and then I leave without paying. What do you think?”

A few seconds later, he was out of the store with his bounty. But despite the too easy stunt, he was still scowling. He had been handling the things with the Slayer in the worst possible way. She had been beginning to open up to him, slightly, minutely, to come to him for help, trusting him, even, with the lives of her mum and kid sister. And what had he done? Sent everything to hell because he was getting impatient. If he had just kept on without trying to push her, offering his support and showing her she could count on him, who knew where things might have gone on their own?

So he had made a decision. He wouldn’t go to her again. He wouldn’t show up where he knew or hoped she would be. He would just wait for her to need him again. Because she would need him. The Glory bint was still on the hunt, and the Bit would need protecting. And who else could she turn to? Who else had the slightest chance not to die on the first blow from the goddess?

All he had to do was wait for his time to prove his worth. Of course, since she had that slight stubborn attitude thing going on, it might take a while, and he had never been that good at waiting, his latest screwing up was just an unneeded proof of it. That was why he had gotten himself a few nice bottles. They would help quite well to pass the time, and, if he was lucky, take his mind off the Slayer until she was the one to come looking for him. He just knew she would. Why else wouldn’t she have staked him yet, if not?

For a little while, Buffy just observed the dead girl on the swing next to hers. No, not dead. Not even a girl. Just a robot. A machine, nothing else. But the illusion was so good, it could have fooled just about anyone.

People get lonely, and maybe having someone around, even someone you made up ... maybe it's easier.

Why, oh why, had Willow said that? And why couldn’t she get that simple little sentence out of her head? Yes, Warren had gotten lonely and made a girlfriend from scratch for himself. And how well had it worked out? He had gotten bored with her, had tried to run away from her, while all she – all it wanted was to follow its programmed orders and make him as happy as possible.

But even seeing how badly it had turned out, Buffy could understand all too well how Warren had been tempted, because she was, too. Except that it wasn’t a robot whose love she would have if she made that decision. It would be a real, live person, with real feelings, real emotions, real desires. Someone whose dreams and goals would not always match hers, but that would be alright, because that was part of what Warren had missed in his perfect creation. It was too perfect, too centered on him. Whatever she changed about Spike, he wouldn’t be perfect, no human was, nor would he live only for her, and that would be just fine.

It was almost a shock to realize that, in her mind, it wasn’t if anymore, it was when. She was going to do it.

After all, if it was a matter of justice as the demon had said, of making up for the bad cards fate had dealt her, then she had earned her wish. Her life hadn’t been pretty every day since she had been called, she had had to give up on a lot of things because she was the Slayer, and, somehow, relationships were one of these things. This was her chance. She would get the companionship and help she wanted and needed, and he would get her, which was also what he wanted. And if, by some incredible accident, she still couldn’t love Spike after she changed him, he would be no worse off than he was now.

In her mind, she reviewed her list of ‘Things that would need to change drastically for Spike to become a suitable love interest’. A list, carefully compiled since the night before, although just for fun at first, to which she added a couple more things. She couldn’t forget anything so that he could become her perfect dream man.

When she was ready at last, she took a deep breath and called the demon’s name. Instantly, Halfrek appeared in front of her with the same puff of smoke as the night before. She spared a half-second glance at April, but her attention was soon fully on the Slayer.

“How nice to see you again so fast!” she said a bit too merrily for Buffy. “You’ve decided to accept my offer, then?”

“Maybe,” Buffy answered carefully. “I have a couple of questions first.”

The demon’s smile seemed suddenly tenser, but she nodded gracefully, inviting Buffy to continue.

“Can you guarantee that there will be no ill effects?” she asked. “Like, an apocalypse sprouting up because there’s suddenly one less vampire around and the balance of all things evil is broken or something?”

“The only thing I can guarantee is that nothing will happen that you didn’t ask for,” the demon replied very seriously. “It is up to you to be careful about what you wish for.”

If the answer had been different, if Halfrek had assured her that nothing could go wrong, Buffy would have been too suspicious to go on. But this half-warning to be careful what she wished for was somewhat reassuring about the demon’s intentions.

“OK,” she said quietly. “So I just tell you what I want to be different and that’s it?”

Buffy nodded her understanding, and closed her eyes briefly. This was it. No backing out, now. In a quiet voice, she went through her list, barely aware of the demon in front of her as in her mind she pictured the man Spike would become. For her.

“Most important thing, I want Spike to be human. And to be happy about it. But I want him to keep his strength and fighting skills. And no brooding about what he did as a vamp, he can feel sorry and want to atone but no tortured soul act. He needs to stop smoking, drinking, cursing and stealing. I want him sarcasm and innuendo free. He has to get along with my friends and family, and really like them, not pretend to just to be closer to me. I want him to ditch the duster and dress in colors other than black, and with good taste. I want his hair to be its natural color. I want him to live in a nice apartment, find a good, honest job and stop asking us for money. And I want that dreadful old car gone. I want him to listen to something besides punk music. He has to be a gentleman, romantic and also patient. And resolve his problems through other means than violence. Oh, and he has to absolutely stop with the nicknames.”

“Just a little detail,” Halfrek said on a business-like tone, and Buffy almost expected her to claim her soul as payment. “You need to actually say you wish all that, not just want.”

Stifling a relieved sigh, Buffy acquiesced. “I wish Spike would change as I said.”

The demon nodded. “Granted,” she said with a grin, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Buffy blinked several times, not daring to believe yet that there was, somewhere not very far, a human man who loved her and that she could allow herself to love in return.

Chapter 3: His Body

For a long time, Buffy remained on the swing, moving slowly back and forth without even realizing it. She had done it. She had really gone through with it and taken the first sliver of hope she had been offered in a very long time. She felt at once exhilarated and scared senseless. Scared, because, until she saw Spike, she wouldn’t know for sure that it had worked, that he had truly become the man she had wished she could have. And exhilarated, because she had this sensation, this certainty that, yes, it had worked. She could almost feel it deep inside. Something was different. And that something was Spike.

Eventually, she couldn’t bear it anymore. She just had to see him and see the change. She jumped off the swing, and was about to stride away when her eyes fell on April. She gave a deep frown at the deactivated robot and tried to tell herself that it wasn’t her problem any longer. April wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again, and Buffy had more interesting things to do than wonder about what would happen to a broken toy.

She had only taken a few steps away from the swings when she let out a sigh and turned back toward it. Leaving the ‘bot out there was just asking for trouble. She really didn’t need someone to find it, fix it, and let it loose on the town. Grumbling under her breath against delays that robbed her of precious minutes with the man of her dreams, she picked up the giant doll and started walking toward the Magic Box. The trip took longer than it should have, because she was taking back streets and alleys to avoid attracting too much attention, but she eventually got to the shop and entered through the back door. Leaving her burden in the training room, she quickly filled in Giles about what had happened and then she was off.

She was halfway to Spike’s cemetery when she stopped dead in her tracks and slapped her own forehead. She had just realized that, in all likelihood, it wasn’t his cemetery anymore, and her quest was doomed to failure. Her wish had included a ‘nice apartment’ clause, so the crypt was probably empty now. Probably. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she decided that she would check anyway. Maybe the wish would need a little time to take effect. In which case, he would be at the crypt, but would be a vampire too, which didn’t really help. It was a human she wanted. She had done the whole vamp thing and wasn’t ready to take that road again. That was, after all, why she had wished Spike to be human.

It was with a throbbing hangover that Spike came back to his senses, and for a while he just remained where he was lying, clutching his head in both hands. Had he really drunk that much? OK, yes, he had, but the effects usually faded, for the most part, before he came back to the world of the undead, thanks to the marvels of vampire constitution.

Eventually, he managed to pry open his eyes, and stared at the white ceiling above him, on which were dancing stripes of light and shadows. Where the heck was he? This definitely wasn’t the crypt. Had someone visited him as he was getting himself nicely plastered? Had he followed a pretty bird home? He couldn’t remember. But he was naked under that satin sheet, so it was a possibility. A shame to shag and not remember it, though.

As he was musing so and vainly trying to hear any sounds around, he carefully sat up in the bed, and noticed, slightly puzzled, that the same stripes that favored the ceiling were also marring his torso and arms. It took a couple of seconds to his foggy brain to sort through the alcohol fumes and realize that the strange striping was caused by the blind on the large french window on the right side of the bed. Or rather, caused by sunlight going through the only half shut blinds.

The information took some time for his mind to process and analyze, let alone comprehend. And yet, there was the proof. Sunlight touching his body, no burning or blisters, therefore harmless sunlight. When it had finally permeated his consciousness completely, he jumped out of bed – and regretted it immediately as blinding pain shot through his head, his briefly forgotten hangover reminding him of its presence with a vengeance. It took him a second to regain his balance, and then, more cautious now, he stepped to the window, and, in one long tug, pulled up the blinds completely. Light flooded the room through the now cleared window, bathing him, making him blink wildly at the brightness he had long ago become unaccustomed to. Unbidden, a full-throated laugh passed his lips, and he almost startled himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a real, truly happy laugh had been drawn from him, but happy he was now. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the sun until it was given back to him. He didn’t know who, how or why, but he was certainly the happiest vam…

His laugh died suddenly as the focus of his eyes changed, and instead of looking at large trees that were apparently in some kind of park or garden below the floor he was at, his gaze settled on the glass itself. Slowly, his hand came up to touch his face. And in the glass in front of him, his indistinct reflection moved accordingly.

As he turned around, too quickly again but this time he didn’t let himself care about the dizziness, his eyes scanned the room, the bedroom, but didn’t find what he was looking for. Unconcerned about his nakedness or about walking around in an unknown place, he strode out of the room, to find himself in a large living room area, separated from a kitchen corner by a thin wall that only came half way up and left the view open between the rooms. It wasn’t a kitchen or living room he wanted now, however. It was… ah… the bathroom…

He stepped in, and immediately positioned himself in front of the mirror that was above the sink. And again, almost despite himself, he brought his fingers to this face that he hadn’t seen in so long he had almost forgotten what it looked like. His gaze drifted up, to the mussed hair that was surprisingly of a light honey color and not bleached white. He ran his hand through it, roughly combing the wild curls, and decided that it was just fine as it was, and that he wouldn’t…

Realization dawned on him, and his hand glided back down to his neck, where he pressed two fingers to his pulse point. What the fingers told him, however, he already knew, because he very clearly could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Feeling a wave of lightheadedness surge that had nothing to do with the booze he had ingested the previous night, he grabbed the porcelain sink with both hands and stared at the too blue eyes in the mirror that were staring back unblinkingly at him.

Sunlight harmless, check. Reflection, check. Pulse, check. Game face… nope. Insistent urge to get rid of the excess liquid in his body… definitely.

So. He had gone to bed, or passed out, a neutered, chipped vampire in a crypt, and awoken an apparently normal human in what looked like a rather posh flat. Knowing the how’s and why’s would have been of the good, but right then he didn’t really care. If anyone had asked him just the day before, he would have preferred being dusted than rejoining the ranks of humanity. And yet, now that he had…

Slowly, the man in the mirror started smiling, and Spike returned the grin wholeheartedly.

As Buffy had thought, the crypt was empty. Empty of its usual occupant, and empty of his possessions. As she had done only two nights before, she let herself down to the lower level, curious despite herself to know whether everything was gone. And to her surprise, she found a few things that had been left over. One of them, his most prized possession, was lying on the ground, and she picked up the piece of leather, brushing the dust off without a second thought. A souvenir, she told herself. A reminder of what Spike had been, before, as opposed to what he would be now.

There was more that she couldn’t just leave there, however. By the shrine she had destroyed were pictures of her, drawings, that she wouldn’t want just anyone, human or demon, to come by. She found a cardboard box not far from it and placed the folded duster in it, before starting to pick up the pictures and drawings and put them inside. She took her time and examined each picture, thinking back on when it had been taken, and wondering where and how Spike had put his hands on it. In some, she was alone, in others with her family or friends – never with a boyfriend though – and the only common point was that she was smiling brightly in every single one of them. And then, the drawings. Not always smiling in these. In a couple of them, she was asleep. In another one, crying, sitting on the back deck of her house. Pouting. Lost in her thoughts. Mischievous. Had Spike drawn all of these? She would have to ask him. Maybe she would even return them to him.

Adding a last item – her blue sweater – to the box, she looked around the bare crypt once more and wondered where Spike was now and what he could be doing. She couldn’t wait to see what sort of man he had become. Couldn’t wait to see if she could let herself love him now.

With a small smile, she walked back upstairs and left the former home of her former enemy, allowing herself to make up scenarios about their first meeting. Because, yes, it would be a first. No more ‘I’ll kill you Saturday’, no more happy meals on legs, no more fighting. The page was blank to write a hopefully beautiful story on.

After a quick shower to clear his head and a few minutes of exploration, Spike had found out a few things. First, the apartment was his. There was a recently signed lease on the kitchen table, with his signature on it – his human name, that is. Second, whoever had furnished the place had excellent taste, although it seriously lacked in shelves and books. Third, he had no clue what had happened to his wardrobe, but the change was interesting. Blue jeans, tan and gray slacks, a collection of white t-shirts and as many shirts, some plain cotton, some in finer fabrics, in various hues of blue, green, dark purple and white.

He dressed in faded jeans, a white shirt and comfortable tennis shoes, and left his apartment, deciding that he could finish exploring it later. Right now, he felt like enjoying a bit of sunshine. And there was nothing stopping him anymore. On the key chain he had picked by the door, there was, in addition to the apartment key and the small one that had to be to the mailbox, a third one that he couldn’t identify. He found the answer as he was going through the wallet – his wallet, apparently – that he had found in the bedroom. Green card, British ID card, Californian driver’s license, a bit of cash, and a paper folded in half, the proof of insurance of a motorcycle. He saw it as soon as he exited the building and pondered going out for a wild ride, before deciding that for right now walking would be just fine.

Whistling softly, hands in his jeans pockets, he settled on discovering his neighborhood. The lease had already told him he was still in Sunnydale, but this wasn’t a neighborhood he was very familiar with. A few upscale apartment buildings like his, some stores within walking distance, no cemetery close by. Pretty good for a human.

As he was walking by a bookstore, he was about to enter when the name on the window just next door caught his eye. For the first time since he had awoken human, a slight worried frown found its way to his brow. His vampire self had done a couple of pretty dumb things, recently. He might as well start making up for them.

After taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door of the gallery and stepped in, looking around curiously at the artwork displayed. He had heard about some of these items, but never actually been there before.

“I’m sorry sir,” a familiar voice that sounded terribly tired announced. “I was just closing, you will have…”

As he turned to her, smiling a bit bashfully, the woman’s voice trailed off. Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance, and the fact that, yes, he was standing in a pool of sunlight.

As Buffy arrived home, carrying her box of goodies, she was a bit surprised, and instantly worried, to find Giles’ car in the driveway. Her first thought was that something had happened to Dawn. Hurrying inside, she cursed herself for her daydreams and useless wanderings in abandoned crypts while a hell goddess was still on the loose and hunting her sister.

The door opened in front of her, proof that Giles had been waiting for her, and she froze, forgetting all about Spike and wishes, when she saw the clear worry on his face.

“Dawn?” she questioned in a murmur, already steeling herself for her Watcher’s reply.

Chapter 4: A New Human

Buffy’s complaining was met by the dry comment that she was right, and having an accident was certainly the way to get to the hospital faster. She gave her Watcher a mumbled apology, and tried to sound less whiny as she asked:

Giles let out a sigh, and Buffy had the distinct feeling that, had he not been driving, he would have been taking off his glasses by now.

“For the fourth time, Buffy, they said she had been brought to the hospital in time. I don’t know any more than that.”

“But what did the doctor look like when he said that?” Buffy insisted. “Like, was he all grim or smiling or…”

“I haven’t been to the hospital yet,” Giles interrupted her. “I was told over the phone, and I came to find you immediately.”

“Xander went to get her,” Giles reassured her immediately. “He’s bringing her to the hospital too. They might even be there already.”

Buffy nodded, and went back to her worrying. Her mother had been doing so well since the operation. Making plans, going back to work at the gallery, even going on a date. She couldn’t believe that something bad would happen to her. It was just impossible. She didn’t know how she would cope if she lost her, especially now, with the constant threat to Dawn. No. Joyce had to be alright. She just had to.

At last, they arrived at the hospital, and Buffy was out of the car and already running inside before Giles had even stopped the engine. A few hasty questions and some more running later, she was arriving at the door she had been directed to, and was stopped by a nurse before she could get in.

“No, I mean, yes, my mother is in there, Joyce Summers, I just want to see her.”

The nurse gave a short nod, but said in a strong tone: “You will have to wait, Miss Summers. The doctor said only one visitor at a time, and your brother is already in there.”

“No, your brother. Why don’t you go sit with your friends in the waiting area and I’ll tell him you’re there.”

“Wait,” Buffy said urgently, “this is the room of Joyce Summers, right?”

“I think you need to go calm down, Miss Summers. I’m not letting you see my patient if you are so agitated.”

Buffy wanted to grab the woman as she turned to enter the room, and make her see that she wasn’t agitated, not at all, where had she gotten that stupid idea. But before she could prove her wrong, a hand rested on her shoulder, and she briskly turned to see Willow standing there.

“Hey, Buffy,” she said with a half smile. “I see you’ve met the nurse from Hell, uh? She wouldn’t let me or Tara get in because we’re not family.”

The redhead made quotes in the air as she said the word family, and Buffy knew what she meant. Joyce was an honorary mother to all of the Scoobies.

There was a clicking noise behind her, a door opening, and she turned to see a man come out. It took her a few seconds to recognize him, and then she just stared at him as he looked at her, clearly uneasy. He finally decided to talk first, and Buffy snapped back to reality at the sound of his voice.

“Hi, Buffy. You can go in now if you want, but your mum is asleep so you have to be quiet.”

She kept staring. It was Spike, alright. The same Spike she had wanted to see since she had made her wish. And obviously the wish had worked, judging by his clothes and hair. But right now she didn’t care about that. She wanted to know why he had been inside with her mother. Why the nurse had said he was her brother. She hadn’t wished him to be her brother, had she? Why had they called him? Who had called him?

“I know you said to stay away from you and your family,” he said quietly, “and I was going to, I swear, but I just had to apologize, and while I was with her your mum wasn’t feeling so good so I convinced her to come here just to have a check up and then I had to tell the docs I was her son so that they would tell me what was going on and I couldn’t let her alone while you were all on your way so… that’s why I’m here.”

He had rushed through all that, barely taking a breath, and had finished in a whisper. And now he was waiting. Waiting for her reaction, she realized. But how was she supposed to react? This certainly wasn’t how she had imagined their first meeting as two humans. Not with her mother sick just a door away, her best friend standing behind her, and her little sister now rushing to her with the most worried look on her face.

“She’s alright, Dawn,” Spike answered her frantic questions with a reassuring smile. “She needs some rest but she’ll be just fine.”

“’M not really sure, but it’s not important. Why don’t you go see your mum? Be quiet, though, she might still be sleeping.”

Still clearly baffled, Dawn nodded and went through the door he opened for her. Spike’s smile wavered when his eyes fell again on Buffy, and the staring she was still directing at him.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said softly, his eyes pleading for her to believe him. “This is certainly not how I wanted to apologize, but I guess it will have to do. I’ll just be out of your way now.”

After giving a quick nod to Willow, who was now at Buffy’s side, he started walking away, and Buffy simply watched him leave, not quite sure what had just happened. The most strange thing of all was that he had left without her asking him to, which must have been an all time first. And his timing was rather lousy, leaving at the very time when she needed support…

Pulled out of her thoughts by Willow’s question, Buffy stopped glaring at the spot where Spike had disappeared and repeated absently: “Weird.”

“I mean,” Willow continued, oblivious to the fact that Buffy wasn’t really paying attention, “I was thinking it was just surface changes to try to woo you, and then Tara said his aura changed dramatically. I wonder what’s going on.”

It wasn’t just Willow, but also Giles and Xander who repeated the word, and made her realize they were there too. And Tara and Anya, too. When had they all come close? How had she not noticed they were around her?

Buffy only nodded her reply, still lost in her thoughts. Too much to think about at once. She was definitely intrigued by Spike’s change, and wished she could have talked to him some more, but right now he wasn’t her priority. Her mom was. And her health.

Oops. Buffy tried to focus and find an acceptable answer to her Watcher’s question. Dangerous ground, here. She couldn’t exactly tell him, tell everybody, that the reason Spike was alive and breathing was because she had wanted him to, could she? They wouldn’t understand.

“No vampire tingles anymore,” she said quickly, and it wasn’t a lie actually. “And he was breathing. And he got out and it’s rather sunny outside.”

“And from what I understand,” Giles added thoughtfully, “he drove your mother here in her car.”

“It’s not the only wigging thing,” Xander said with an exaggerated shudder. “How weird is it that Spike knew how to call me on the site to have me go get Dawn?”

“And he called the Magic Box too,” Anya chirped in. “Of course, our number’s in the phone book.”

There were some more words about Spike’s unusual behavior, but Buffy tuned them out. Everything she had wished seemed to have worked, so why had Spike left? Unless he had thought it was what she wanted. Of course, that had to be why. She hadn’t actually told him he could stay, so he couldn’t have known. He had to think she was still angry about what had happened in his crypt, since he had apologized for it. And he had said he had wanted to apologize to her mom, too. Apologize to her for what?

The door to her mother’s room opened again and Dawn walked out, looking much calmer than when she had gone in.

Nodding, Buffy went in, and just had the time to hear her sister ask the others where Spike was before she closed the door behind her. The shades were half drawn, leaving the room a little dark. Buffy walked to the chair by the bed, and took her mother’s hand where it was resting on the sheet.

She was awfully pale, Buffy mused as she observed her. An IV was hooked to her other arm, clear liquid dripping slowly through it, but no other instruments. That had to be a good sign, she told herself. There would have been beeping and buzzing machines around if her mom’s condition had been very serious.

“Yes, better,” Joyce acquiesced quietly. “The doctor said it happens, sometimes, after an operation like mine. They’re thinning my blood a little. Or thickening it. I’m not sure, I forgot which. But they said all should be alright now and that I could go home in a couple of days.”

Suddenly, Buffy could breathe a little more easily. If they were already talking of releasing her mother, it had to mean she really wasn’t in any real danger.

“I’m so happy you’re alright,” Buffy mumbled as she lightly rested her head on her mother’s stomach and hugged her awkwardly. “I was so worried…”

“Shhh… it’s OK, sweetie,” Joyce murmured as she caressed her hair softly. “I was lucky that Spike came by, though. I would probably just have gone home if he hadn’t insisted on bringing me here.”

“He said he wanted to apologize for his actions, but I’m not too sure what he was talking about. Did anything happen that you didn’t tell me about?”

Unwilling to lie outright to her mother, Buffy simply said: “Nothing important.”

Joyce seemed to accept the answer, and continued talking quietly, almost as if to herself. “We talked for a little while. About the gallery and little things. It worried me for a while to see him there, during the day and in the sun. But he was as astonished about it as I was. He said he doesn’t know what happened to him. Do you know…”

“Don’t worry about Spike”, Buffy interrupted her softly. “All you have to think about now is to get well again.”

“I wish it was that simple,” she said with a sigh. “There’s that important shipment coming in tomorrow morning, and I gave Carol the day off since she worked so hard while I was out. Could you possibly..?”

It wasn’t like she had anything better to do than watching crates be unloaded, check them for broken pieces of pottery, and sign for them. And no, she wasn’t impatient at all to be out and to find Spike and have a real talk with him. After all, she didn’t even know where he lived. She could only hope he would fall back into old habits and come looking for her again soon.

Chapter 5: After Unlife

It hadn’t been difficult for the Scoobies to convince Buffy to give up on her patrol. They had persuaded her to just go home with Dawn after the hospital visiting hours, and to leave the fight to them for the night. She had seemed so completely out of it ever since learning about her mother being in the hospital that it certainly seemed more prudent to send her home. Distraction wasn’t very healthy when you dealt with vampires and demons. The biggest clue that Buffy wasn’t as well as she ought to be, as far as Willow was concerned, was that she had shown no surprise whatsoever upon discovering that Spike was now human. It seemed that the Slayer had too much going on in her life to worry about one of her given prey becoming human. But the Scoobies were worried. They had been a little reluctant to talk about it in the hospital, where anyone could have heard them, but as they patrolled, it was their main, if intermittent, topic of discussion.

Hand in hand, Willow and Tara were ready to attack any vamp that might dare show its bumpies. The sunshine spell still wasn’t working, but they had another nifty one, a small ball of fire, that they had already used successfully twice this night to reduce vamps to ashes. Next to them, an axe in hand, held with the poise of someone who knew how to use it, was Giles. He also had a beheading to his score. Then came Xander and Anya, both holding stakes, and who had collectively taken the fourth kill of the group so far.

“It could be a magic ring again,” Xander suggested. “Like the gem of whatever. Making him sun proof and everything.”

“I never heard of any magical item that would give its humanity back to a vampire,” Giles commented thoughtfully. “Anya?”

“Nope. Never heard of anything like that, either. But there are rumors of this demon that will do just that if a vampire drinks its blood. I can’t remember its name, though.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they approached a cluster of crypts in the graveyard. No vampire announcing itself, the quiet talk started again as if it hadn’t stopped.

“We’ll research that demon and maybe ask Buffy if she has seen anything like it recently.”

“Do you think he’s still evil?” Willow put in after a second. “I mean, he kinda saved Buffy’s mom. And he’s human now so no particular reason to be evil.”

“He’s still the same guy who tried to kill us more than once,” Xander protested, although not as vehemently as his anti-Spike speeches usually were. “If he really is human, and note I say “if”, he can still go buy a gun and shoot us all one by one. Or set our houses on fire.”

“He… he could have done that be… before, couldn’t he?” Tara chimed in. “The fire?”

“Until we know exactly what happened to him,” Giles advised, “whether it’s permanent or not, and what are his intentions, it might be better if we…”

They never heard his suggestion, because at that point they walked into an ambush. Tara and Willow set two vampires on fire before they could touch them, but the distraction opened the way to two more. One of them rushed at Giles and started wrestling him for the possession of his weapon. At the same time, the other one knocked down Xander and the two of them rolled around on the grass, Xander doing all he could to keep pointy fangs away from his neck. Anya was hovering over them, trying to stake the vamp in the back, but they were thrashing around too much for her to get a shot at it. For the same reason, Willow and Tara couldn’t use their spell without risking endangering their friends.

As quickly as it had started, it was over, and Spike was offering his hand to help Xander back to his feet, having staked both vampires. Xander eyed the proffered hand warily before finally accepting it.

“Sorry about crashing the party,” Spike said good-naturedly. “It just looked like too much fun to pass up.”

Even though he had known Buffy would be coming to the hospital, Spike still wasn’t ready when he finally stood in front of her. Facing the Witches had been alright, they had just been worried about Joyce and did not even question his presence, let alone his appearance. But Buffy… She seemed to see right through him, seemed, in just one look, to know all of his secrets, and all he didn’t know, to boot. He had wanted to apologize to her, since chaining a lady to a wall was hardly an appropriate way to declare one’s supposed feelings, but his words vanished at the blank stare she gave him. Words wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough. She had asked him before – no, ordered him – to stay away, and he intended to respect her wishes. He owed that much to her.

He almost headed toward the crypt before remembering that he now had better accommodations. So he went back to what was now his home, still marveling at the fact that sunlight was a caress on his skin, and not torture. As he walked through Sunnydale, he compared in his mind this little stroll to the last one he had taken in the sun, when he was protected by the gem of Amara. Back then, all he had in mind was Buffy, and her blood in his mouth. Now, it was the farthest thing from his mind, and he was just planning to enjoy this new chance that had been given to him, however long it lasted.

Once he arrived home, he explored each room more carefully than he had before. There wasn’t much here, actually. About the same kind of furniture he had had at the crypt, although in better shape. The walls seriously lacked colors – maybe he would get a piece or two at Joyce’s gallery, she had a few very interesting paintings, and paying for them wouldn’t be a problem. He had found a bank statement, in his name that had erased very quickly all worries about how he was going to buy groceries – his stomach was grumbling and the fridge was depressingly empty-, pay the rent – his flat wasn’t overly big, but the upscale neighborhood certainly inflated the rent amount -, or simply get the things that he felt were missing around him.

More than once, of course, he asked himself what was going on, what or who had transformed his existence to such a degree, but there was no answer he could come up with. So he decided to stop worrying about it and simply enjoy all of this new life as long as he could. If there was a price to pay, and he had the grim certitude that there would be, eventually, it would still be time to worry, pay, or flee, when he was presented the bill. Until then, he very much intended to make the best of the situation. And it didn’t seem like it would be very difficult.

A quick trip to the store just down the street, and his fridge and cupboards were full. On the way back he picked up a couple of books and the newspaper. Now that he was free to go around as he pleased during the day, he would need to find something to do during the long hours that had been, before, spent hiding from the sun. He didn’t need the money, at least not yet, and there really weren’t many things he was qualified to do, but finding an interesting job, part-time, maybe, might be nice.

For his first real dinner in a bit more than a century, he cooked for himself something simple but very enjoyable. He had forgotten food could taste this good. A pity the Bronze had gotten rid of the flower onion thing, he wouldn’t have minded trying that with his newly restored taste buds. To his surprise, his other senses had not all dimmed. He could still see as well as he had as a vampire, and that was certainly a relief because in a previous life he hadn’t been able to see farther than the tip of his nose without his glasses. His hearing was pretty good too, good enough to pick up the voices of his neighbors, who weren’t shouting or anything, although he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His sense of smell, on the other hand, was pretty much shot, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Some of the uglies that went bump in the night didn’t really smell like cologne. As a vampire, it had been easy to simply stop breathing so as not to smell atrocious scents. As a human, it might have proven more difficult to hold his breath while patrolling.

Because, he had been a little shocked to realize, he had already decided he would patrol. And his motivation, just as surprisingly, was that he had a dozen decades of killing and mayhem to make up for. He had never before given a second thought to the idea of redeeming himself, maybe because he didn’t care, maybe because there was just too much to pay for, or simply because he didn’t fancy himself a second Angel. Even when Giles had talked to him about that, a year or so before, he had dismissed the idea as ludicrous as soon as he had heard it. But now that he was actually human, it didn’t seem so stupid anymore. A creature of the night wouldn’t be given a second shot at life and light without a good reason, right? Maybe this reason was to do some good. Buffy and the gang could certainly use another pair of hands, especially with Glory playing with them. It would be a pity if anything bad happened to Dawn.

So, as soon as night had fallen, he was out. He rode his motorcycle to a cemetery he had heard a few nights before now hosted a new group of vampires, and, a stake in hand and another one in the pocket of his short jacket, started hunting.

Easily, almost startlingly, he fell back into hold habits. Silent and careful as he walked around. Attentive to any sound. Focused on the prey he intuitively knew weren’t very far. His first kill of the night had lips tinted red by blood, and he berated himself for having been too late for saving whomever that blood had belonged to. The next night, he silently promised to himself, he would be out and tracking killers before the sun had completely set. Maybe, this way, he would dust the vamps before they went hunting, not after. Still angry with himself for this death he hadn’t prevented – who was dead? Maybe someone no older than Dawn. Maybe someone like Joyce whom her family would sorely miss. Someone whose body would be found in a few hours, or never. Someone he now would never know. Someone he couldn’t afford to brood over, because there were many more unsuspecting someones out there waiting to be saved. – he resumed his hunt, the predator that was surprisingly still in him taking over completely as he followed his instincts. After a few minutes, he could hear the sounds of a fight, not very far from where he was. Familiar voices. These someones, he already knew. And he would be damned if he just watched them get hurt.

Caught up in their respective fights, the two vamps never saw what came to them, and soon it was only humans left in that too dark spot of the graveyard. With a relieved smile that the Scoobies all seemed alright, Spike offered his hand to Xander to pull him up. The brunette hesitated a trifle too long, and Spike was about to lower his arm, but he finally accepted the help, although with a slightly suspicious glance.

“Sorry about crashing the party. It just looked like too much fun to pass up.”

And indeed, it had been fun. As much fun, and maybe even more, as a good spot of violence had been when he was a vampire. He could feel his heart in his chest, pumping faster blood charged with adrenaline, making him feel – there was just no other word – alive.

“Feel free to intrude on any party of the kind,” Giles said, a little too dryly, as he was still catching his breath, and Spike mused than the man might be getting a bit too old for this kind of exercise.

“You want… you want to patrol with us?” Tara asked, her eyes briefly finding his before quickly lowering as she blushed slightly.

He observed the rest of the gang. They didn’t seem exactly thrilled by the invitation that had been extended to him, but they weren’t protesting either. He hesitated, as he didn’t want to impose his presence if it was truly unwelcome, but thinking back of the situation they had been in when he had found them, he decided that maybe they would be better off if he stayed around.

“Sure, I’d be glad to,” he finally accepted with a genuine smile at the shy witch.

With a few short instructions from Giles, they started moving again. For a couple of minutes, the silence was almost oppressing, until it was at last broken by Anya.

“So, since everyone wants to know but no one is asking, I guess I will. How did you become human, Spike?”

They all stopped, and inquisitive gazes scrutinized him, clearly waiting for an explanation he didn’t have.

“I have no idea,” he calmly replied. “’Went to sleep a vamp last night, woke up human this morning. Human, with a pretty decent flat, enough money to live comfortably for a year, and a new hairstyle. If you have any clue what happened to me, I’d really be glad to know.”

“Very, very strange,” Giles muttered, his head cocked to the side as he observed him like a particularly fascinating phenomenon. “The matter certainly needs to be studied so that we can determine what happened.”

“Alright. How about tomorrow?” Spike suggested. “Afternoon, mind. I have plans for the morning. At the Magic Box?”

At Giles baffled look, the ex-vampire realized he had probably heard more in the mumbling than was actually there. The rest of the Scoobies seemed rather bemused too, though he had no clue why.

“Uh, you mean, you’re willing to let me run some tests?” Giles asked, clearly surprised.

“’Depends on what kind of test, but yeah,” Spike acquiesced with a nod. “I told you, I want to know what’s going on too. If I’m going to turn back to a vampire, I’d rather be aware of it so that I can keep away from shadeless areas.”

“Do you want to?” Willow asked suddenly, almost worriedly. “Be a vamp again?”

He thought about it for barely a second. The answer wasn’t difficult at all, he realized, mildly surprised.

“Sure, and it has nothing to do with your improved odds to get into Buffy’s pants, has it?”

Xander’s tone was almost reproving, and Spike found himself smiling at the accusation.

“It’s not like that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t ask for this. And I… Well. Anyway. Talking about Buffy, aren’t we here to do her job?”

There were quiet murmurs of assent, and they started walking once more, this time directed by Spike to a crypt further down which he thought might have unloving guests. There were no more questions about his humanity, but Spike would have had to be blind not to see the furtive glances that each member of the Scoobies was giving him.

Chapter 6: Taking the Initiative

It had been a truly endless night for Buffy. Too many thoughts were going on in her mind, an endless loop, worrying about her mother, fearing for Dawn’s safety, wondering about Spike. When the morning light started filling her room, she gave up on trying to sleep and got out of bed. A nicely long hot shower cleared away some of the tension, if not her tiredness, and she felt somewhat refreshed when she went down to the kitchen after knocking on Dawn’s door to wake her. While her sister was getting ready, she busied herself making pancakes, or rather, trying to, and they had breakfast in silence, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Just as they were about finished, Xander came to pick up Dawn and give her a ride to school. He commented briefly on Spike having been on patrol the night before, with only a hint of mistrust in his tone, and Buffy felt a bit cheated. She should have insisted on going on patrol, instead of leaving it to the Scoobies. If she had, she would have gotten rid of some excess energy, would have found sleep more easily for it, and she would have been the one meeting Spike by accident. Not fair at all. How was she supposed to find him, now?

So it was a sulking Buffy who accepted Xander’s offer for a ride to the gallery. She had to get the emergency key from her mother’s room, since she had forgotten to ask Joyce for the normal set when she was at the hospital. Xander was getting late for work, so he just dropped her in front of the gallery. For a minute she stared at the windows. They should have been covered with metal bars for the night, but her mother had probably been in too much of a hurry when she left the day before to think about it, while Spike didn’t know. However, when she found that the door was unlocked, she rolled her eyes. Even Spike should have known better than to leave the gallery open for thieves to visit. He was human, alright, that didn’t mean he was stupid, did it?

Just as she was walking toward the office, a noise alerted her. There was someone in the back room. As silently as she could, she moved to the back door, ready to pounce on the trespasser, and was startled instead when the door opened in front of her to reveal Spike, who looked just as surprised as she felt.

Despite the smile she felt creeping up at the sight of the ex-vampire, Buffy crossed her arms as she glared at him mildly.

“This is my mother’s gallery,” she said primly. “I actually have a right to be here. What’s your excuse?”

“Joyce told me yesterday her second order of amphorae was arriving today,” he replied, a bit sheepish. “I just thought I’d be here to receive the shipment since she’s in the hospital.”

To her own surprise, she believed him. For a second, she had been afraid he had kept the keys the day before – these same keys he was handing her now – to come back and ‘borrow’ some of the artwork. But of course, it wasn’t the case. It couldn’t be. Her wish had included a ‘no stealing’ clause, after all.

“She sent me for the same thing,” she felt compelled to explain. “Supervise the unloading, check for damage, sign the paperwork.”

He looked taken aback by her sudden interruption, and her cheeks were suddenly burning. Could she be even more obvious? She didn’t even know the man he had become yet! She couldn’t really throw herself at him like that. She suspected she could very easily get feelings for him – after all, Spike’s major fault had been to be a vamp – but she still needed to get to know the new him. Didn’t she..?

“I mean,” she said more calmly, “I’m sure I could use your help. Manly muscles and all.”

Buffy winced at her own choice of words and felt her blushing return, but it was his fault this time. The t-shirt wasn’t black anymore, but it was as tight as usual, and underneath the play of hard muscles was all too evident.

Spike arched a questioning eyebrow, and for a second she was sure he was going to point out that, being the Slayer, manly muscles was one of the things she had little use for. But he finally just gave a small shrug and a quiet ‘OK’.

Just two days before, if Buffy had asked him so nicely to stay and help her with something, Spike would have been in heaven. Right now, he wasn’t too sure about it. She had been a bit too quick to insist, as if there was something else motivating her request. Was she wary of his sudden humanity, as the Scoobies had seemed to be? Was she trying to keep an eye on him? And her comment about having a use for his muscles… well, he knew quite well what her own could do, having been on the receiving end of her blows a few times already, so he doubted she really needed him for any kind of strength demonstration. But he had nothing better – nothing at all actually – to do with his morning, so he accepted with a quiet ‘OK’.

There was an awkward silence, then, neither of them very sure of what to say to start a conversation. They knew each other already, but at the same time, it was all completely new. And Spike felt rather uncomfortable, his guilt over the way he had treated her still playing tricks on his mind. They were saved by a vehicle honking loudly in the alley – the truck bringing the pieces Joyce had ordered had apparently arrived.

Together, they went to open the back door, and as the dozen crates were unloaded they opened each one and inspected the antique amphorae. Smiling fondly, Spike remembered the story Joyce had been telling him and Dawn about these just a few nights before. His smile faded as he remembered what had followed. He caught Buffy looking at him, then, and she asked him what was wrong. The perfect opening.

“Me chaining you to a wall, that was wrong,” he said with a self-deprecating grin. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’m truly sorry.”

To his surprise, she smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry about it. Just as long as you don’t do it again…”

She chuckled a little, then, and he laughed with her. Nope, no chance of that happening again.

Soon enough, they had inspected the whole shipment, and the carriers had left with their required signatures. Buffy was locking the back door again when a sudden thought struck Spike.

“Buffy?” he questioned softly. “Why aren’t you as wigged out by me turning into a human as your mates seem to be?”

She considered him for an instant, her cheeks slightly flushed still from having moved the crates around.

“One less vampire in the world,” she said at last, “sounds good to me, so why should I worry?”

He nodded. It did make sense. She would have been probably more upset if it had been someone she knew turning into a vampire instead.

He glanced at his wristwatch, finding that he had a couple of hours still until the time he had told Giles he would come to the Magic Box. He had bought the thing on his way to the gallery. As a vampire, he had always relied on his demon to tell him how far sunrise and sunset were, and rarely ever needed to know more precisely what time it was. Now that the intimate awareness of the sun status was gone, he felt like he would have a frequent need for the watch.

“Did you ever have a look at the gallery?” Buffy asked suddenly, completely out of the blue.

“Your mom had started to show me yesterday,” he replied. “But she wasn’t feeling so well, so the visit was cut short.”

She nodded gravely, a small frown barring her forehead. “I forgot to thank you for taking her to the hospital.”

“I’d hate to see anything bad happen to her,” he stated simply. “The best hot cocoa I ever tasted, your mum makes.”

She grinned a little at that, relaxing slightly. “How about we pick up the visit where you stopped yesterday?”

“Are you telling me you can explain art as well as your mum?” he teased gently.

She shook her head, chuckling. “OK, you caught me. But at least we can look. I haven’t been here in a while.”

Spike gave a small bow, his arm inviting his hostess to lead the way, and he walked back into the gallery after her. For a long moment, they wandered through the gallery, and Spike found himself repeating to her the few explanations Joyce had given him the day before. To his mild surprise, she was interested by what he was saying, even when he was simply expressing his opinion, and they laughed together in front of an abstract sculpture, each of them finding in the design very different things and trying to convince the other that they were right. Still bantering about it, they arrived by a piece in front of which Spike fell silent. It was one of the paintings he had only glimpsed the day before, but that he would probably acquire very soon. It depicted either a sunrise or sunset, though he had already decided it was a sunrise, the sky ablaze with vibrant hues of red, orange, yellow and pink. In the forefront was a silhouette, completely black in contrast to the colored background, a woman with a dress down to her ankles and long strands of her hair dancing in the wind.

“It’s very nice,” Buffy commented quietly, her head tilted to the side as she detailed the painting. “I like it.”

They stayed in the gallery a little longer, until Buffy declared that she was famished. Without thinking twice, Spike suggested that they had lunch together, since he had planned to grab a bite before going to the store. Even as the words left his mouth, he winced, already certain of her answer. And hadn’t he decided to just leave her be, since it was what she wanted? He just would have to think…

Her agreement left him speechless for a second, and he stared at her, trying to determine whether she was joking. Or it could be another way to keep an eye on him and make sure his human status wasn’t just a plot of some sort. Well, if that was what she thought, she was mistaken, and he wondered how long it would take her to realize it.

“I don’t know,” he replied amicably. “Why don’t you pick the place and I’ll treat?”

She accepted his offer a bit too fast, making him even more certain that she was in fact standing guard over him. Two days before Buffy wouldn’t have given him the time of day, and he very much doubted that him having a pulse had changed so much what she thought of him.

Having lunch with Spike was a quite enjoyable experience for Buffy. Until dessert. He had teased her for having chosen only a salad – a big salad, there was nothing wrong with eating vegetables, was there? - but when the time came to order dessert he was just inhuman and cruel. After Buffy declined to have any, he ordered a warm chocolate cake, with melted chocolate inside and a huge scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream on the side. It looked absolutely scrumptious. And tasted even better, to judge by his almost lascivious running commentary. As she followed the trip of the last bit of cake from the plate to his lips, she just gave up, and asked the waitress to bring her the same. His broad smile was utterly insufferable then, and she expected him to boast or make some snide remark, but he simply assured her that she wouldn’t regret it. And indeed, she didn’t.

He had told her he had plans to go to the Magic Box because Giles was going to help him research his sudden case of returning humanity, and she accompanied him, under the pretext of getting some training. What she actually wanted was to be there to know what direction Giles’ research would take. Everything was turning out quite well, but she didn’t want anyone to know she had caused the changes in Spike. That revelation would certainly bring forth questions about her reasons for having done so, and protests that she had been careless to use the services of a demon to alter reality. She didn’t want to hear any of that, and didn’t want to explain herself. She had been very careful in her wish, and it had been magnificently successful. The newly human Spike she had started to get to know over a few pieces of artwork and a shared lunch was just as she had dreamed he would be. She could just as easily laugh with him or be serious and work. And, she had realized happily, it wouldn’t be hard at all to let herself love him.

Chapter 7: Almost Forever

After a couple of hours, endless questions, a sparring match against Buffy that had shown he had kept his vampire strength, and a spell that had proved he was indeed a souled human and not a demon with human attributes, Spike was still no closer to knowing what had happened to him. And Giles was stuck somewhere between fascination and frustration.

At one point the ex-Watcher had been ecstatic, suddenly certain that he had found the reason why Spike was now human and that this reason was called a Mohra demon. But Spike had quickly broken his hopes, assuring him he had never seen the beastie Giles was showing him in a book, let alone tasted said beastie. There had been a brief puzzled look fluttering on Buffy’s face then, as if she had recognized the demon, but at Giles question she answered that she had never seen it in Sunnydale.

Anya had suggested another solution, mentioning casually that the suddenness of the change in Spike reminded her of the wishes she had once granted. But Spike was very sure that, a few days before, being human would have been the very last thing coming to his mind if anyone had offered him a wish. Giles researched the topic anyway, because he just didn’t have any other idea, but none of them could come up with a reason why anyone would wish him to be human as part of a vengeance. Especially since he actually enjoyed it.

In the middle of the afternoon, Buffy announced she had to go get Dawn from school and that they would then visit their mother in the hospital. Spike took the opportunity to ask her permission to go see Joyce himself later, and, to his surprise, she invited him to come along with her and Dawn. He had certainly not expected that. Actually, her whole behavior had been rather peculiar since he had become human, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he wasn’t the only one affected by whatever had happened. He felt reluctant, however, to mention it to Giles, for it would have been a bit strange to comment on Buffy being abnormally friendly to him. Maybe he was just so used to the look in her eyes that screamed ‘monster’ whenever she used to glare at him that he saw more in the absence of disgust that there really was. No, more than being affected by whatever it was, she was probably just accepting him as a Scooby now that he possessed the humanity required to join the club.

Before they left the shop, Giles requested that he make a list of all the little things that had changed along with his life status, so that they could see whether there was a pattern to be found. Spike promised he would, but kept his doubts quiet that it would be of any use. He was beginning to accept that some things just weren’t meant to be explained. His own developing theory was that he had been singled out by someone or something with incredible powers, enough powers to give him his life back, for a second chance at living and at doing good things. He was only comforted in this idea by the fact that, so soon after having awoken human, he had had the opportunity to help a lady that reminded him so much of his mother. Without his insistence that she see a doctor, Joyce might have died. The parallelism between both their fates wasn’t lost on him. He held his tongue about this speculation, though, unwilling to know what Giles or anyone else might think of it.

As they walked to Dawn’s school, Spike turned the discussion to Glory and her whereabouts. He was sorry to see Buffy’s face instantly close, but they couldn’t just forget about the Hell Goddess just because he happened to have picked up a pulse somewhere. Apparently, the skanky nuisance hadn’t shown herself in a few days, but that didn’t mean Buffy thought she had given up, On the contrary, it might indicate that she was preparing something really nasty. At Buffy’s sudden nervousness, Spike assured her that she could still count on his help, and a fluttering smile came back to her lips.

Dawn had gotten used to someone being there to escort her every day after school, but the sight that greeted her that day was majorly weird. She had been told that Spike wasn’t a vamp anymore, but to see him there, in the bright sun, and even chatting amicably with her sister, that was probably the oddest thing she had ever witnessed. But not the most unpleasant.

The surprises didn’t stop there, however, as he accompanied Buffy and her to the hospital to see their mother. As the nurse that was probably from a hell dimension forbade them to go in together, Dawn took the first turn and left Buffy and Spike in the waiting room, wondering what they would be talking about. She was glad to see that her mother didn’t look as pale and tired as before, and the time they spent together flew too fast. It was then Buffy’s turn, and Dawn took the opportunity to try and get a few answers out of Spike.

“The whole human thing? I gotta say, that was the best idea ever. She’s already starting to fall in your lap!”

For a long instant, he just stared at her, completely confused, before finally asking:

“What are you talking about, Dawn? It wasn’t my idea, I have no clue how it happened, and who exactly is falling in my lap?”

“Buffy, who else! Didn’t you see the way she’s looking at you like you’re some kind of fat free chocolate treat?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and he started shaking his head and stuttering something, but she cut him short.

“OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but there’s something in her eyes, and it’s not the usual ‘eww evil vampire’ look. And really, I thought you and I were friends, you could have told me what you were planning.”

Again, he repeated that he had nothing to do with his transformation into a human, and swore that there was nothing between Buffy and him but a beginning friendship. Dawn remained doubtful about that, and when he and Buffy switched places, she started the second round of interrogations.

Buffy had the same ‘deer caught in headlights’ look that Spike had had just minutes before, and Dawn smiled smugly, knowing that she was right.

“There’s nothing to say,” Buffy said, a bit too quickly. “Why would you think…”

Buffy’s mouth opened and closed again noiselessly, as a faint blush started to spread on her cheeks.

“He’s kind of fun to be around,” Buffy reluctantly confessed. “And he’s human now, so no ickiness about it.”

“I so knew it!” Dawn exclaimed, triumphant. “Admit it, you liked him even before.”

“Of course not!” Buffy protested, again too quickly. “He was a vampire…”

“And from what I’m seeing,” Dawn interrupted her, “he’s not much different except for the heartbeat. You can’t have changed your mind so fast and just because of that.”

Oh, this was getting fun. Buffy was protesting way too much not to be hiding something.

“OK, prove it,” Dawn said with a small grin. “What exactly changed in him? Apart from the obvious?”

It was a full minute – Dawn mentally counted – before Buffy came up with something.

“Nicknames! He doesn’t call any of us with his ridiculous nicknames anymore.”

“And that’s why you like him now?” Dawn shot back, incredulous. She hadn’t noticed, but now that Buffy had mentioned it she realized he had been calling her ‘Dawn’, which he rarely ever did before. She kind of missed the special names, though, she had actually liked them.

“That’s not the only thing,” Buffy said, and by her tone she was becoming annoyed. “Like, he doesn’t smoke or drink or swear or even steal anymore.”

There was something very peculiar about this, but before Dawn could try to analyze what felt strange in Buffy’s latest declaration, Spike came back and the discussion immediately stopped. As Dawn watched them interact, she became more and more convinced that her sister was really much more into the ex-vamp than she admitted, and it was odd that Spike wasn’t picking up on it. She decided she would give him some pointers later, since he had just agreed to come by Revello and stay with her at nightfall – and no, it wasn’t anything even remotely like babysitting – while Buffy went on patrol. He left the hospital, then, and Dawn started elaborating her plan. This was going to be fun…

After hanging up on the weirdest phone call he had ever received, it had been difficult for Angel not to jump in the car and rush to Sunnydale. But a pesky little detail – the sun – had prevented him from departing before nightfall, and he had grown really nervous about what was happening, or going to happen, on the Hellmouth. He broke every single speed limit on his way, but was lucky that the CHP didn’t stop him. Lucky, also, that he found Buffy in only the second cemetery he stopped by. For a few minutes, he just observed her, lurking in the shadows, but in the end he just had to talk to her, make sure she was alright, and warn her about the possible threat. To say that she was surprised to see him was a euphemism – shocked was more like it.

He winced a little at her first words. He hadn’t really expected her to fall in his arms, after all, it was over and they had agreed on the fact that they needed to move on. But at least a little smile? For her to be glad to see an old friend certainly wasn’t asking too much, was it?

“No vision. Just a very strange phone call. I think Spike has gone completely insane and that he might be back to being dangerous.”

She seemed taken aback by his revelation, and again surprised him. Instead of suggesting that they go hunt his wayward Childe, as he had expected, she crossed her arms defiantly and said:

“I saw him just an hour ago and he was perfectly normal. Why would you think he is insane?”

“He called me,” he answered slowly, observing her face carefully as he talked. “He was rambling about forgiving me, of all things, and being sorry, and that everything had changed. I was thinking his chip thing might have damaged his brain. Or he got it out and his brain got messed up in the process. Who knows what he could do…”

The statement itself would have been enough to shake Angel to the core, or make him burst out laughing, which was probably even more difficult. But the words weren’t what shocked him. It was her voice, her tone when she said those four simple words. When she said Spike’s name. He stared at her, hurt beyond belief.

The rising heat in her cheeks only confirmed his suspicions, and he would have turned away and gone back to LA without hearing another word if he had just been able to command his body to move.

“Me and Spike,” she said with a strange mix of ice and fire. “Wasn’t that what you wanted for me? A human who could walk in the sun with me? Who could give me all the things you thought I wanted? And this one has the advantage that he already knows all there is to know about me and my job. So yes, me and Spike.”

Her tone was clear, she was daring him to say anything. But Angel didn’t. He didn’t ask how Spike had become human again. He didn’t ask if she really loved him, didn’t ask if Spike loved her back. He just nodded, swallowed back the pain, pride and anger, and walked away. It could have been him, a nagging little voice whispered in his ear. The place at Buffy’s side in the sun had been his to take, and he had given it up. He had no right to say anything anymore. He had lost that right long ago.

He couldn’t help turning back one last time, only to see her walking in the opposite direction. As he let go of her sight, and of her, a quiet word floated in the still air of the graveyard.

“Dawn, I promise, there’s really nothing going on between your sister and me!”

“Not yet, but I can smell the beginning of romance when I see it! And I already know you’re so into her, and she knows it too, and all you need is to open your eyes and start seeing what can’t be any more obvious!”

“What is obvious is that your taste in music is dreadful. Don’t you have anything that is actually music?”

“Don’t try to change the subject! And for the hundredth time, no, there is no classical music in this house, and it’s not going to change any time soon! And I thought you liked punk exclusively anyway?”

“I did… I guess that’s one more thing on my list. Change in music taste.”

“Hey! Are you insulting me? Because if you’re insulting me I know exactly how to deal with you…”

“Spike? You can’t do that… That would be really, really evil, and you’re not evil anymore, are you? Did you put that on your list already? Not evil?”

“Now, who’s trying to change the subject? Stop backing away, my dear… I promise it won’t hurt… much…”

“You… you are so going to pay for that! Wait ‘til Buffy arrives. She’ll hold you down for me and I swear I’ll tickle you to death!”

“Oh, then I guess I should get you one more time before I die, then, shall I?”

Chapter 8: Something New

Sitting on the low dividing wall between his living room and the kitchen, Spike was sipping on a soda as he watched Xander play with tools and assorted pieces of wood. A grown up construction game.

“You could give me a hand instead of just watching,” the brunette complained with a mock scowl.

“Well, I’m paying you to do the work, ain’t I?” Spike shot back, grinning.

Spike turned the can toward Xander, letting him see the label. “Not a drop of booze in this flat, mate. And before you ask, yes it’s on the list already.”

Taking a last gulp of pop, Spike discarded the can and jumped off the wall. He came to stand by the half built shelves, hands in his pockets until Xander handed him two pieces of wood to hold.

It had been a week already since Spike had awoken a new man in this same apartment. A week… It almost felt that he had always been human. If not for the fact that everybody else remembered his vampire days, he might almost have believed that it had all been a dream. Or a nightmare, he wasn’t too sure which.

The first days, he had spent an awful lot of time at the Magic Box. All his time, actually, for lack of anything better to do. Feeling the sun on his skin was nice, but a couple of long strolls had left him with mild sunburns – which had healed much faster than they should have, but the experience had been unpleasant. Avoiding prolonged exposure until his skin got used to the sun again seemed like a good idea, but inactivity and loneliness would have killed him, had he remained home. Unlike Giles, he had given up on finding an answer to the mystery that his heartbeat was, but he had found another pastime. With his knowledge of Latin, Greek, and various demon languages, he had been helping Willow and Tara research their ball of sunshine spell, going over their translations with them. To his delight, they had welcomed and appreciated his help, and were now treating him fully like one of the gang. They all were.

“Why don’t you read me your list so we can see if there’s anything we can figure out from it?”

With a shrug, Spike complied. Giles was really more stubborn than he would have thought, and it had proven useless to argue with him about whether it was appropriate to keep researching Spike’s humanity when Glory was still out there, doing who knew what. Giles’ gloomy reply to that had been that there was nothing he hadn’t read three times already to try and find information on hell dimensions and their inhabitants and that he needed to occupy his mind with something else.

“Here’s what I have so far. Got a pulse. New hairstyle. Nice flat. Lots of cash. Cool wheels. New musical taste. Haven’t had a fag in three days and don’t even feel like having one. And all of you are treating me decently.”

The last part had been delivered on the same tone as the rest, but it brought to Spike seven pairs of eyes. Dawn was the first to voice her opinion as she glared at him from the other side of the research table.

He smiled at her, nodding lightly. “I stand corrected. All of you except Dawn and her mum are treating me better than you ever did.”

“I’ve always treated you decently, too,” Anya then announced from where she stood behind the counter.

“Yeah, sure, except for the times you were accusing me of stealing your precious inventory.”

“But you were stealing,” she pointed out matter of factly. “And you aren’t anymore.”

“Why don’t you add ‘not deliberately trying to annoy the hell out of everyone’ also?” Xander suggested from his perch on the counter. “Which, by the way, might be why we don’t find you so despicable anymore. It’s amazing how one can stop despising a person when said person stops acting like a jerk.”

Spike arched an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was indeed acting as different as the brunette was implying. If he was, it wasn’t in a deliberate effort to be nice. And Xander was right, annoying the Scoobies had been, not that long ago, one of his favorite pastimes. Mostly because it had seemed like the only interaction possible with them.

“The better attitude is definitely why it’s easier to get along with you,” Willow added, confirming Xander’s words.

“And you helping with our translations, too,” Tara inserted softly in the discussion.

“Not just with translations,” Giles corrected. “You’re helping. Period. And not asking anything from any of us. The change you underwent is deeper that a heartbeat and new hair color. Remember how I suggested to you that you might be destined to be part of something bigger? You never even considered it until you became human.”

“Not true,” Spike protested quietly. “I’ve tried helping before. And was not so politely told that my help was unwanted.”

He very pointedly didn’t look at Buffy as he said so, but she obviously caught his meaning, because she said, almost defensively:

“Hey, Slayer here, I’m not supposed to do anything with vamps but slay them, so you can’t blame me.”

“I’m not,” he replied calmly. “Not blaming anyone here. Just pointing out I’m not the only one who’s changed.”

After much pleading on his part, Dawn had given up on trying to push Buffy and him together, but she was still watching the two of them with that wicked little grin every time they were in the same room, which had been quite often so far. Every afternoon, the two Summers sisters were at the Magic Box, it seemed. Probably staying out of Glory’s way. Buffy had made it a habit to train with Spike every day, arguing that he was more of a challenge than Giles, and that she needed to be at her the top of her strength and form for whenever the hell goddess did reappear. It was for the same reason that the two of them patrolled together each night, so that Buffy would have some backup in case of an unpleasant encounter. Spike’s suspicions that she was keeping an eye on him had not completely disappeared, but he now had a new theory added to it. He had kept his vampire strength, she knew it, and she was keeping him close to have a powerful ally if needed. He didn’t mind too much, because it was the kid’s safety that was at stake.

On the fourth morning, Spike had stopped by the gallery, having heard from Buffy that her mother was back to work. Joyce had explained that she felt better but also that she wasn’t supposed to do too much, per the doctors’ instructions. Offering his help had been natural, and after a short moment thinking about it, Joyce had accepted. So now, he spent his mornings at the gallery, his afternoons at the Magic Box, and his evenings on patrol. He was rarely ever alone again, and it felt good. Solitude had started to weigh on him since Dru had left him.

Returning his attention to the brunette at his side, Spike handed him the pieces of wood he was requesting and observed as he hammered the last pieces of the shelves together. Then, together, they pulled the thing up and Xander secured it against the wall it now covered completely. Spike had once mocked his skills, but he had to admit he had done a great job in designing the custom piece and in building it.

Spike only nodded his approval. He now had a place to store his growing collection of books, and he had enough room for many more volumes. He had always enjoyed reading, but been rather limited both by the fact that bookstores were usually closed at night, making it hard for him to…acquire…books, and also by his need to keep his Big Bad image intact, which precluded reading for pleasure. Not anymore. He remembered being the Big Bad, remembered enjoying every second of it – or almost – but that part of his existence was now over.

It was the middle of the week, and the Bronze was subsequently far from being packed. But, as Buffy had argued, vampires didn’t care whether the place was full or not when they were hunting here. And so here she was. With Spike. Just patrolling in the Bronze, not on a date. Not at all. Or maybe just a little. Being there supposedly for slayer duty eliminated the need to ask any of the Scoobies if they wanted to come along. And it was easier on both of them if they didn’t mention it was a date, this way neither was expecting too much from the evening. And Spike was playing the game to perfection. There he was, coming back inside after having followed a vamp out to the alley. The stake had already disappeared, up his sleeve or maybe in his short jacket’s pocket. He came back toward the table where she was sitting, and a frown flickered on her face. He still had the same confident walk, the same swagger to his stride, but somehow, without the duster flowing behind him, the effect wasn’t the same. Dismissing the odd thought, she stood and went toward him, meeting him on the dance floor.

“Care for a dance?” she suggested nonchalantly, hoping that she wasn’t blushing too much.

She smiled a little, amused that he was keeping on with the non-date theme. Without thinking twice, she lifted her arms to encircle his neck, and in return he placed his hands lightly at her waist. They started swaying in time to the slow song, but there was still too much space between them as far as Buffy was concerned. Progressively, she moved in closer to him, until their bodies were touching, and she then rested her head lightly on his shoulder and closed her eyes. This felt good. Dancing with him. Simply being with him. She didn’t have to pretend anything when she was with him. Didn’t have to pretend she was a normal girl, didn’t have to play down her strength, didn’t have to hide her fears.

They had just reached the gates of the cemetery, and the motorcycle they had left there earlier. They had agreed that afternoon that Spike would come pick her up, so that they could get around Sunnydale a bit faster. She already loved the idea, as holding on to him when they traveled around town had proved particularly nice.

His sudden declaration puzzled her, as they had been talking about her studies so far, and not her mother. A quiet talk, a bit too serious, maybe. But then, this was the new Spike. Seriousness was almost his middle name. When she quipped as she was slaying, he usually looked at her with a little amused smile, but never joined in with repartee of his own. She was beginning to miss their bantering a little.

“Seems to me you’re pretty much on edge,” he replied with a small shrug. “Coming by the gallery every morning to check on her.”

She was glad for the lack of light where they were, because her face would have certainly betrayed her. She was checking on her mom when she came by the gallery, true, but that wasn’t the only reason for her visits.

“You have too much on your mind,” he continued after a second. “Too many worries. It will tire you out, eventually, and it will become dangerous for you. And for those you worry about.”

She knew he was right, but she just couldn’t help it. Both her mother’s and sister’s safety were at risk, if for different reasons.

“I can’t do anything about my mom’s health,” she explained in a wavering voice. “And I can train all I want, but next time Glory comes around she’s just going to kick my ass again. I’m so tired of being helpless…”

His quiet chuckle startled her, as did the hand softly resting on her shoulder.

She smiled hesitantly at the little light that she seemed to guess lit in his gaze.

“Just believe in yourself,” he added quietly, his hand squeezing her shoulder softly. “Like we all do.”

One thing she was very glad she hadn’t changed was his voice. She just loved that sexy accent of his, especially when he used it to say her name in a low murmur like now. She could very much get used to it, and to the shivers it was sending down her spine. Though the shivers weren’t a new thing in themselves, it was just new that she let herself acknowledge them.

“Yes?” she replied just as softly, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at his face and drown in his so blue…

As he whispered, his hands took hold of hers and gently removed them from his neck. In the same movement, he made her turn around, so that her back was now pressed to his front, both his arms and hers at her waist. He never broke the rhythm of the dance, and no one could have guessed he was just showing their next prey to his dance companion.

She nodded, her throat suddenly too dry to let out a simple word. The nerves of her back were on fire where they touched his body. Slaying was at this point the farthest thing from her mind.

She wanted to tell him to forget the vampire, to just keep dancing with her until the end of the night, or the end of the world, but a very annoying little voice was telling her that the guy the redhead at the bar was talking to would soon be dinner if they didn’t do anything.

“OK,” she finally agreed, and made the so difficult effort to step away from his embrace.

She returned to their table, her knees a tad weaker than they should have been, and observed, mesmerized, as Spike easily slid in and took the place of the almost-dinner. Even from where she was, a few yards away, she could see that he had turned to full seduction mode, and the vamp girl was very obviously interested. As they flirted shamelessly, with seemingly innocent touches to each other’s arms or hands and with too bright smiles, Buffy felt an intense feeling of jealousy creep up on her. Spike was here with her. For her. He should have been flirting with her right now, not with that skanky bloodsucker. He was hers, and no one else’s.

Her eyes narrowed as the vampire head tilted toward the exit, apparently suggesting that they leave the club. Before they could move, Buffy was up and striding out. She waited outside, just by the door, and it wasn’t long before they came out. Before Spike could do anything, and before the vamp could understand what was going on, Buffy had grabbed her and was unleashing her fury on her. It was too easy, the pitiful creature didn’t stand a chance. How had she even dared look at Spike? Blinded by jealousy, Buffy wasn’t even acknowledging that Spike had been the one seeking her out, and that he had done so with Buffy’s approval. No one could look at her man like this but her, and that was it!

She was startled when the vamp exploded in a cloud of ashes, only to reveal Spike behind her.

“Spike!” she complained loudly. “Why the bloody hell did you do that for?”

He looked surprised at her words, and she realized belatedly that she had used what had once been a typical spikism. Where had that come from?

“It seemed a bit of an overkill to me,” he replied carefully. “Whatever your problem is, violence isn’t the solution, you know. Even violence on vamps you are going to dust anyway.”

“Coming from you, that’s just hilarious”, she shot back, annoyed, and immediately regretted her words at the wounded look that crossed his face. Annoyance returned, milder, as she wondered whether she would need to think twice about anything she told him from now on. It was certainly easier when he gave out as good as he received.

She nodded, unsure whether to apologize or try to pick a verbal fight, like she would have done if it had been the old Spike. He solved her dilemma by turning back to her and asking, his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked at her:

She gave him a small smile as she accepted his offer. On the way home, she held him a bit tighter than strictly necessary, and prepared in her mind a few words for her goodnight, to let him know how much fun she had had – and indeed she had, when one of them or both hadn’t been busy staking vamps. But as soon as she climbed off the motorcycle, he simply said his goodbye and left, leaving her frustrated that she hadn’t even gotten a goodnight kiss. She had wished for him to be a gentleman, OK, but not one from the nineteenth century who wouldn’t touch or kiss her unless they were wed!

Chapter 9: No Place Like His Home

Bemused, Buffy checked the address written on the hand-drawn map in her hand, making sure she hadn’t gotten it wrong, before looking again at the apartment complex in front of her. No doubt, it was the one. She could even see Spike’s motorcycle in the parking lot.

There wasn’t a graveyard close by, so she only visited the neighborhood when she came to the gallery, and she had never paid any attention to the apartments around here. Which was why she was surprised by the look of the place. Two story buildings, with balconies, wrought iron, sculpted house fronts, a private parking lot and, from what she could see, some kind of garden or park in the back. And that was only the outside. She couldn’t wait to see what it looked like inside…

Checking the numbers on the buildings again, she quickly found the one she wanted and walked straight to it. On the second floor, Xander had told her, on the left. He was the one who had drawn the map for her, since he was the only one who actually knew where Spike lived. Buffy had been wanting to check the place out for a little while, but hadn’t been able to come up with a good excuse. ‘I wished you would have a cool apartment so I want to see what it’s like’ just didn’t sound too hot. So she had managed to get the address from Xander, since she had heard Spike and him talk about some kind of work Xander had done for the ex-vampire, and pretended that she just wanted it in case of an emergency.

Spike’s behavior around the Scoobies since his change left her slightly puzzled. Less than the fact that he had called Angel, however, that had been the truly unexpected thing, and she very much did not want to think about it anymore. Safer to think of the Scoobies than to analyze the very blatant lack of guilt at having told the first man she had loved that she had moved on to an ex-foe and ex-vampire that he hated with a passion. The Scoobies, she was sure, wouldn’t look at her as if she was insane when they learned what was going on. And she wouldn’t need to be as defensive with them as she had been with Angel. Well, the last time he had come across her boyfriend, they had traded more than a few blows, so she had tried to avoid a repeat by making him see there was nothing he could say or do to change her feelings for Spike. And why was she still thinking of that anyway? Angel was not a part of her life anymore.

She had wished for Spike to genuinely like the gang and be friends with them, and indeed he had become a part of the group. But his conduct wasn’t very different from what it used to be, apart from the lack of irritating comments. A few days before, they had all commented that they were nicer to him not because he was human but because his attitude had improved. And he had said he was helping because they were finally letting him, which they hadn’t been doing before. She wasn’t so sure anymore if Spike caring for the Scoobies was a direct effect of her wish, or something that had existed before but never been noticed by the gang or even expressed by Spike. After all, he had really been trying to help, especially the last few weeks, and she had always refused to give any credit to these actions. Maybe she should have given him a chance. Maybe they all should have. But it didn’t matter anymore, now.

Straightening her skirt, top, and hair, Buffy finally knocked on the door. And waited. And waited some more. And seriously thought about simply getting in as she used to do at his crypt, but in the end she just knocked again, and was rewarded by some noise inside. The door finally opened in front of her, first just a crack, then a little more, and revealed a very undressed and very wet Spike, who only had a towel wrapped around his waist. He was obviously just coming out of the shower, and Buffy’s mouth was suddenly dry at the expanse of glistening muscles that was exposed to her perusal.

His urgent tone brought her eyes back to his face, and she tried to focus on his words. Dawn? Her mother?

There was some noise in the hall behind Buffy, and Spike seemed to realize that he was standing, more than half naked, where any of his neighbors could see. One hand holding the towel in place, he motioned with the other for Buffy to come in, and closed the door behind her. She couldn’t help but steal a few more peaks at the perfect and too pale skin, idly thinking that he could use a day at the beach and a little tanning, and that she wouldn’t mind at all rubbing the lotion on these scrumptious...

Once more, his voice pulled her out of her daydreaming, and she tried to focus on his eyes.

“Yes, I’m OK, everyone is OK. Just thought I’d say hi. See what your plans are. For tonight, I mean.”

“The same as they were three hours ago when we both were at the shop,” he replied with just a hint of amusement in his voice. “The same as every night. Patrol?”

She nodded, and felt her cheeks grow a little hot, whether in embarrassment at her lame excuse or because her eyes had momentarily drifted down to his chest again, she wasn’t sure.

“Well, I was thinking, since it’s so calm and all lately, that we could take the night off. Relax. Take our minds off gloom and doom for a while. A movie, maybe?”

She saw his hesitation, and instinctively knew its source. He had proved to be rather fond of patrolling, so far. Or rather, more than a fondness, he seemed to take it as his duty, forgetting, sometimes, that she was the Slayer, and not him. But the hesitation disappeared and he acquiesced.

“A movie sounds good. I’m sure Dawn will love the idea. She has been just about as much on edge as you, lately, with your mum and Glory on top of it. That will take her thoughts of it all, too.”

For a second, she stared at him, not understanding what he meant, and then it sank in. He thought Dawn was coming with them. Inside, Buffy screamed that it wasn’t what she was suggesting, not at all. But she couldn’t really say it out loud after he had shown himself so thoughtful.

His next question took her by surprise. “Why didn’t you bring her? We could have gone straight from here.”

Why hadn’t she brought Dawn? Because she had managed to convince Giles to take her back to Revello and stay there with her and their mom until she came back, that was why. Because she had thought that just the two of them would have been more than enough.

“What?.. Oh, I left her with Giles. I couldn’t risk exposing her to the blinding indecency of your state of undress.”

For the first time since he had invited her in, he seemed to realize he was practically naked, and suddenly turned a deep shade of crimson, which satisfied Buffy immensely. There, she wasn’t the only one having naughty thoughts. And she would have given a lot to know exactly what he was thinking right now.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled as he retreated to what she supposed was the bathroom. “Give me a minute, OK?”

She said the last part no louder than a murmur, as he had already closed the bathroom door behind him. Looking all around her, Buffy stepped farther into the living room. Cream leather sofa and armchairs, very comfortable looking. A TV and VCR that advantageously replaced what he had at the crypt. A coffee table of glass and wrought iron. Along one wall, these shelves she had heard of, already starting to fill up. Thick carpet on the floor. She glanced toward the kitchen, simply noting the dishes left out to dry near the sink.

With a wary glance at the bathroom door, she tiptoed to the open door through which she could see a bit of what looked like a bed. She pushed the half open door a bit farther, and stared, open mouthed, at Spike’s bedroom. The rest of the apartment was very nice, but had that ‘just moved in’ look, a bit impersonal, lacking still the touch that said ‘Spike lives here’. He had started to work on that, with the shelves, but it was obviously still a work in progress. The bedroom, on the other hand…

In the center of the room was a bed. Round. Huge. Covered in dark blue shimmering satin. She couldn’t help herself and took a couple of steps inside the room until she could touch the rumpled sheets. It looked like Spike had just crawled out of them, and for some reason it was one of the sexiest things she had ever seen.

Dark blue seemed to be the running theme, because it was also the color of the rich heavy drapes framing the large windows that opened to a balcony. It was also the shade of the blanket carelessly thrown on an armchair close to the window, with a bedside table and a lamp on the other side. A book rested on the table, a bookmark sticking out of it, and it looked like this was his spot to read. Just looking at it, Buffy was feeling a little like she was intruding on a private thing, more private, even, than the bed.

Curious, she walked farther in, to know what he was currently reading. But before she could reach the bedside table, she was startled by the sound of her own name in a slightly questioning tone.

Heart pounding furiously at being discovered sneaking around his bedroom, she turned to face him, desperately trying to find an excuse for her presence in the room.

“No, just… just straightening your bed. I was bored, so… there. See? All neat now.”

A puzzled eyebrow arched at the sheet she had just smoothed down, and he just shrugged. She heard something that sounded suspiciously like ‘women’, and then he was walking to the wall closet opposite the window. As he opened it, she could see a dozen shirts hanging in there, and he started to pull out a forest green one.

“What’s wrong with green?” he replied, shooting a puzzled look at her over his shoulder.

With the purposeful stride of a woman on a mission, Buffy walked around the bed and came to him, assessing his current look. Charcoal slacks, white shirt, deliciously mussed up hair still a bit damp that begged to have a hand running through it…

Taking the green one from Spike, she placed it back inside and went over the available selection. Her first choice would have been red – he always looked good in red, with an added air of dangerousness to the sexiness – but he had nothing of the sort. So she settled for a deep purple silk button up, that she pulled out and presented to Spike. He glanced at her, at the shirt, at her again, then raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head, but finally took the shirt and put it on.

Satisfied with herself, Buffy grinned, and led the way out of the room and out of the apartment. There had been a small, sister-shaped change to her evening, but over than that, it was turning out very nicely so far. And she had no doubt that it would get even better soon.

In the slowly receding light of the evening, an exiled god was checking the newly redone nail polish of her right hand, while a minion waited at the foot of the sofa she was resting on. Her nails, and not those of the enemy who had hid from her that her Key was now human shaped. In all likelihood, Ben even knew who exactly her pretty Key was masquerading as, but she had no way of getting that information from him. And time was running short. She needed her Key, she needed it now, and that damn Slayer wasn’t helping in the slightest!

Or maybe… The Slayer would help. She had to be close to the Key to protect it. Very close… All Glory needed was to observe. Well, not her, that was a minion’s job. With a snap of her fingers, she summoned her most loyal troops and announced her plan.

“The Slayer and the Key are connected. She's going to have contact with it. Find out who is new in her life, who is ... special, who is different. Watch her.”

“I want to hear about everyone she has contact with!” she continued, getting excited at the idea that this was the solution to her exile. “That girl has my Key ... and I'm trusting you boys to get it for me. If you love me ... get it for me.”

Jinx and Murk shared a delighted look, and then smiled at her. Dismissing them with a wave of her hand, Glory put them firmly out of her mind so as not to get too impatient, and concentrated on the all important task of choosing the perfect dress for her return home.

Chapter 10: She Only Has Eyes For Him

As Spike had thought, Dawn was thrilled by the prospect of going out, which apparently she hadn’t done in a while. Not since it had become clear to Buffy that her sister’s life was threatened, he guessed. Buffy had really had a good idea to suggest this time out, and he was more than happy to provide an additional escort to their precious charge.

They went to pick up the kid at the shop, and Spike noticed the confused look Giles gave Buffy when she asked Dawn if she wanted to go out.

“We’ll keep her safe, you know,” he tried to reassure the ex-Watcher. “And the hell nuisance doesn’t even know what she’s looking for, does she?”

“We don’t know what she knows,” the man said warily, before adding, very low, “and even if we did, I’d probably be the last one informed, as usual.”

As he said so, he cast a perplexed glance at Buffy, then looked back at Spike just about the same way he used to look at him when he was a vampire, as if he expected him to attack or threaten them in some way. Spike would have asked him what was the problem but he was distracted by the arrival of the magical elements of the Scooby gang. As Willow and Tara mentioned that they were on their way to the movie theater, Spike asked them if they wanted to go along with the Summers ladies and him. After all, strength – and fun – was in numbers. They gave each other a short look before accepting eagerly. The evening was turning out very nicely.

OK, Willow and Tara were her friends, and Buffy had nothing against going out with friends sometimes, it was quite fun and enjoyable. But it wasn’t what she had in mind when she had asked Spike out. Not at all. She had thought about being with him, alone, for something other than patrol. And she ended up with him and three other women. Not what she had planned at all.

She almost could have believed that he was doing it on purpose, so as not to be alone with her. But why would he not want to be with her? On the contrary, he should have been the one suggesting going out. Unless he thought that she still meant what she had told him when he was a vampire, that he had no chance with her and ought to leave her alone. She had thought she was rather obvious with her signals, after all even Dawn had picked up on them, and judging by Giles worried frown earlier, he was guessing that something was going on too. But Spike was not responding. Not believing, maybe, that she could have changed her mind. Well, she would make the message completely explicit. Later. As soon as they were finally alone.

Spike’s complaint was answered by twin punches on his arms, Dawn’s on the left, Willow’s on the right, but neither let go of their hold on him and they kept pulling him toward the theater – and toward his doom.

“You never came to see a movie with us,” Willow argued too logically, “so how can you say we always pick?”

“Because I sense a trend forming?” he replied with a small chuckle. “Next time, Xander and Giles need to come along, so I won’t feel so outnumbered!”

“Giles knows better than that,” Dawn commented, laughing. “And Xander won’t come without Anya, so you’re still way outnumbered.”

“No, I guess not,” he agreed with a half smile at her concerned look. “Plus, a bloke can’t really complain when four beautiful women are begging him to go see a movie, can he?”

His smile widened as the two wiccas suddenly and with a nice synchronicity blushed brightly. Dawn seemed to hesitate between being flattered and annoyed. He took advantage of their momentous silence to free himself from their grip and advance to the booth where he bought the tickets for the chick flick he was being forced to go see, or so would be his story, with a threatening stake held above his beating heart. When he turned back to the four ladies, he noticed the very weird look Buffy was giving him, and winced internally. Apparently, she hadn’t liked his last comment. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but, by the fire in her eyes, she thought otherwise. And she seemed ready to put him in his place and remind him how far beneath her he was. He only hoped she would wait until the evening was over, so that she would not ruin things for everyone.

However offhand, it was the first compliment Spike had given her since he had turned human, perhaps the first real compliment he had paid her, ever, and Buffy felt suddenly all mushy about it.

She had been pretty quiet as they all made their way to the theater, as she wasn’t in the mood to chat with all of them. She was in the mood for a nice one-on-one chat, but that wouldn’t happen for at least a couple of hours. And she couldn’t wait. Especially after that sneaked in compliment. Now she was sure of it, he was afraid of angering her with his feelings, and had not picked up on her hints. That was why he had only voiced his approval of her look – and yes, she could admit it, she had spent close to an hour simply deciding what she would wear for her date that had turned into a non-date – at the same time as he had complimented the three other girls. That was why, also, he had given her that small, hesitant smile as he came back to them with the tickets. And that was why, as they all sat in the middle of a row in the already dark theater, he looked very slightly nervous when Dawn – bless the girl – left a seat between her and him for Buffy to take. It was almost strange, because vampire Spike, even with a stake over his chest, had never looked so unsure of himself.

But then, vampire Spike wouldn’t have missed her signals and hints, he would have known, probably before she did, what she felt, what she wanted, what she expected, and he would have acted accordingly. He had always seemed to know her so well, too well, guessing her next moves, in a fight or any occasion. The problem was he had sometimes read her before she understood herself, and by backing her into a corner had left her with no choice but to deny and fight what was growing in her. It was his fault that she had made the wish. If he had only waited…

The movie started and she let go of her train of thoughts. What was done was done. This Spike was very much like the old Spike, luckily she hadn’t changed him too much, and it was time to get her act together and make him see what he had been oblivious to, so far. Well, it was time, but it could wait until the movie was over. She wanted to see his eyes light up when she told him.

Night had fallen when the five friends came out of the theater. Although Spike made a point to mock the sappy romance he had been subjected to, the evening had been fun and enjoyable to a surprising degree. In fact, it was the most fun he had ever had where the death of something had not been involved.

Tara and Willow parted ways with them almost immediately, leaving him with the two Summers sisters. One of them had been silent all evening, making him wonder what was upsetting her so, while the other one seemed to be on a snack induced sugar high.

“Oh, come on!” Dawn was imploring, her eyes going from him to Buffy as she walked backward just in front of them. “It is too early to go home! You two sure need to learn how to have fun!”

“Yeah, I’ll remember that the next time you want to go anywhere,” Buffy replied grumpily.

Apparently sensing that she wouldn’t convince her sister if she didn’t have an ally, Dawn concentrated her efforts on Spike, with a smile way too charming for her age as she walked by his side and threaded her arm with his.

“Please?” she said in what was probably her best pleading voice, throwing in her patented puppy eyes look for good measure. “Just a little ice cream? I’m treating…”

She said the last part in a singsong voice, as if it was her best argument, and Spike suppressed a chuckle.

He glanced at Buffy, ready to plead along with Dawn, and this time he was the one suppressing a sigh. She was watching him and Dawn, and there was something in her otherwise blank expression that informed him it was probably a bad idea to appear too familiar with the teen. He really didn’t need Buffy thinking that he had jumped from one sister to the other, that would undoubtedly bring nothing but a stake to his heart, human or not. As gently and discreetly as he could, he freed his arm from Dawn’s, and the kid gave him a puzzled look but thankfully did not comment.

“So, what do you think?” he asked Buffy. “Shall we take her up on her offer?”

And there it went. She had been building up her courage for a little while, something that she never really needed to do as a Slayer but that was quite necessary for this, and now it was going to take maybe another hour before she could finally tell him. Even knowing as she did that he returned her feelings, since he had already declared his love for her, it was still making the butterflies in her stomach wild and crazy, and the anticipation was killing her.

“I thought you were treating us?” Spike asked, a scarred eyebrow rising questioningly at the brunette sitting on his right.

The waitress had left the check on the table a little moment before, and Dawn had been pushing it in Spike’s direction ever since she had had a look at it. The ice creams were long gone, and judging by Buffy’s edginess it was more than time to leave.

“I kinda didn’t expect it to be that much,” she replied, a bit sheepish, with a hint of red coloring her cheeks.

As Buffy, who was sitting across from Spike, shook her head at her sister and made a move for the check, the ex-vampire was faster and grabbed it before her. Even if Dawn had had enough money, he certainly wouldn’t have let her pay. Without thinking twice, he pulled money from his wallet. As he was counting bills, Dawn grabbed the wallet on the table and started looking through it.

Buffy also voiced her protest at her sister’s indiscretion, but was quickly leaning over toward her to watch what Dawn was pulling out. Spike rolled his eyes at them but didn’t make a move to get the wallet back. There was nothing in there of interest, as they would soon realize.

OK. He had been wrong. They had found something they found interesting, since they both looked at him expectantly as Dawn was playing with his green card.

“Yes it is. Would you please be careful with that? I don’t know how I got it but I’m sure it wouldn’t be so fun to try and get a new one.”

With a small shrug, Dawn replaced the card into its pocket, and pulled out instead his British id card. She showed it to Buffy, and pointed out something to her.

“Is it your real birth date too?” she inquired again. “Obviously 1975 is a bit too recent for you, but the day and month?”

Frowning, he motioned for her to give him the card. He hadn’t paid attention before, because the date had lost long ago its significance for him, but yes, it was indeed correct, as he admitted out loud. A conspiratorial glance passed between the two sisters, and Spike let out a quiet sigh. He had two months to convince them that he was way too old to celebrate his birthday.

Dawn finally returned his wallet and they left the ice cream parlor, making their way back toward Revello. All the while, a strange impression did not leave Spike. He felt as if he was being followed, watched. He had actually felt it during the whole evening. It was probably his imagination, he told himself. That, or Buffy’s strange attitude was affecting him more than he had thought.

They were finally arriving home, and Buffy was preparing to send Dawn inside so she could have her little chat with Spike when the front door opened and Joyce took a couple of steps out to meet them.

“So cool,” Dawn replied as she gave their mom a quick hug. “You should have come with us.”

“Next time, I promise,” Joyce acquiesced. “I have some warm cocoa ready if any of you is interested.”

Dawn quickly replied that she was full –of course she was, the three scoops of ice cream she had taken had been the main cause of the check being too expensive for her – and sauntered inside and up the steps, after quick pecks on Joyce’s, Buffy’s and Spike’s cheeks. Buffy was about to decline as well, but Spike accepted with a large grin, and so she followed him and her mom in the kitchen.

For a little while, she simply observed, feeling slightly excluded, as they chatted about the gallery and the latest acquisitions her mother had made. Spike, it seemed, had advised her on that order, and she had been pleasantly surprised with the result. So pleased, actually, that she offered Spike a full time job, and he lost no time in accepting her offer. Looking truly delighted, he soon made his goodbyes, promising to see Joyce the next day and work out the details with her at the gallery. And Buffy just stared, speechless, as he left. He was going to work with her mom. Full time. Which meant he wouldn’t be sparring with her every afternoon anymore. Which also meant that maybe he wouldn’t patrol with her every night if he was too tired. And it was her fault, she was the one who had wished he would find a job.

But the worse part was, she had let him go without telling him she was in love with him.

After a little while, the man came back out of the Slayer’s house, and Jinx glanced at his two companions.

“Fine then,” he said with a grin. “Let’s follow him, and at the first chance we will capture him and bring him to the magnificent Glorificus.”

The plan being clear for all, they started stalking him, careful to remain in the shadows. Earlier that day, they had been following the Slayer. Soon, this human had been at her side, going everywhere with her. And something had not escaped the minions’ observation. Even though they weren’t alone, other females having joined them, the Slayer had barely ever taken her eyes off the man for the whole evening. There was no doubt about it. He was the Key.

Chapter 11: Storytelling

Hands under her head, Buffy was on her bed, staring at the ceiling without truly seeing it. She had taken a quick shower after Spike’s untimely departure, and that had somewhat soothed her nerves. The evening she had planned so carefully had just been one of the dullest ones of her life. And, for some reason, she felt guilty about thinking so. It had been a perfectly fine night, with her friends and sister, some laughs, amusement, even ice cream and hot cocoa. It should have been enough. But it wasn’t, far from it, because of her Spike problem. She had been really upset when he left so abruptly, but she was now calm enough to think over the events of the past few days. Spike declaring his undying love, though not exactly in the most romantic way. The justice demon offering her a wish. And how little Spike had changed as a result of this wish.

It was strange how she missed the little things that had annoyed her so much before: the nicknames, the innuendoes, the bantering. It was even stranger that, while she had expected a brand new Spike, her changes had all been superficial, unimportant things that hadn’t transformed who he was deep down. The major change was how well he got along with the Scoobies, but even there, she had come to think that the potential had been present, only unexplored. That, and his human status, of course. Just for that, it had been worth it.

The only bad point was that it was taking so long for them to actually become a couple. Her fault, maybe. She had played it slow at the beginning, unwilling to let herself fall too fast for him. His fault, too. It was absurd that he hadn’t tried to even know if he had a chance now. Absurd that he wasn’t picking up on how she was ready to try.

The decision was made in a flash. She jumped out of bed, slipped into jeans and a cropped top, gave a few brush strokes to her hair before tying it up in a pony tail, and crawled out of the window. Once in the street, she started running. She was going to tell him, and she was going to tell him now. No more waiting for the right time, no more hoping he would understand by himself, no more dates that turned into group outings. It was now or never.

The night was quiet, a little fresh because of a small breeze, with clear skies, lots of stars, and a barely there moon. Out of habit, Spike walked through the two cemeteries that were on the way to his apartment, but only dusted one fledgling. Buffy was right, things had been very quiet for the past few days. It was almost as if something was going to happen soon, and the demon population knew it and was keeping a low profile, so as not to be caught in the crossfire.

As he made his way back home, he thought back on Joyce’s offer to work for her. He hadn’t really expected it and had been surprised by it, but what had surprised him even more was the shocked look on Buffy’s face when he had accepted. He really didn’t understand the girl, and that annoyed him because, as a vampire, he usually had been pretty good at reading her and knowing what was going on in her pretty head. “Usually” meaning, as long as it didn’t touch the domain of love feelings, in which he was, and had always been, completely hopeless. Right now, he couldn’t figure out why Buffy would be shocked that he would work with her mom. He had thought she trusted him, since, after all, she was training with him, letting him patrol at her side, and even counted on him to protect her sister, like tonight. But if she couldn’t stand the idea that he would work full time with her mom, maybe her trust wasn’t anywhere close to what he had believed. He wasn’t sure if he was more puzzled by the fact that her mistrust hurt, or by how little it did.

Having reached his flat, Spike had just kicked off his shoes when there was a knock on the door. Wondering who it could be so late, he went to open it. Just as his hand touched the handle, the door was abruptly pushed into him and he stumbled backward as four… creatures invaded his home. Short, dressed in ratty brown habits, with deformed faces. Two jumped on him, and he managed to kick one in the stomach and send him flying into the nearest wall while he punched the other one. Without thinking, he pulled out the stake from his coat’s pocket and when the next creature attacked, he pushed the piece of wood deep into its chest. He didn’t have time to rejoice on having one less adversary, because the fourth opponent hit him on the head with a heavy wood bludgeon, and everything went black.

When he awoke, his head was hurting like with the worst hangover. His hands were chained up to the ceiling in the middle of what looked like a rather posh apartment. And in front of him, hands on her red silk clad hips as she observed him, was Glory. A very smiling Glory. Way too smiling for the situation to be good. Behind her, the three surviving minions who had assaulted him, who also seemed too satisfied for comfort.

“Ah, there, he comes back to us,” the blonde cooed. “Hello, my precious.”

Wondering why he wasn’t dead yet, Spike only stared at the goddess and didn’t say a word.

“Gotta say these annoying monks knew their stuff,” she said conversationally as she slowly walked around him. “Who would guess that you’re not really human, uh?”

Unconsciously, he stiffened, suddenly very tense at her casual words. What monks? Did she know why he was human again? She was back in front of him, smiling deceptively softly.

“So it’s true, isn’t it?” she said gleefully. “I wasn’t completely sure, you know, didn’t want to get my hopes too high, but since you admit it… My pretty, beautiful Key… You and I will have so much fun together…”

His first instinct was to laugh and tell her that she had it all wrong and he was no Key. But he stopped himself immediately. If he denied being what she was looking for, she would undoubtedly try to make him say all he knew about the Key. He couldn’t risk inadvertently letting slip anything that would endanger Dawn. As long as Glory thought he was the Key, Dawn was safe.

“I’m kinda glad you finally found me,” he said with his best poker face. “I was getting tired of all this hide and seek. Now at least I can serve my purpose.”

She nodded at that, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and sat down on a sofa that was facing him. She held out her hand, and immediately a minion brought her a glass of what looked like champagne.

“It is good that you understand your importance,” she said between two sips. “But why didn’t you just come to me then?”

“Didn’t know where to find you,” he continued the lie even more easily since it was the truth now. “And Buffy would never have let me.”

“That one is so annoying,” she acquiesced coldly. “Thinking she could keep you all for herself, did she? I can see the attraction. But you’re mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed with a forced smile. “I don’t suppose you would untie me? It’s getting really uncomfortable here.”

He tugged a little on the chains, as if to demonstrate, but really to test their strength. He doubted he could get free by himself. She seemed to ignore his comment as she looked at him with a sudden frown.

“But you changed the hair,” she continued, slowly getting to her feet, still frowning. “And the look. What’s up with that?”

She was getting suspicious. As fast as he could, Spike came up with an explanation, and hoped with all his newly beating heart that she would buy it.

She looked at him thoughtfully, and finally nodded. He suppressed a relieved sigh.

“Oh, sneaky Slayer. Trying to change the aspect of my Key so that I wouldn’t find it, was she? Well, it didn’t work. Now you and I are reunited at last, precious. And soon we will go home together.”

She had come closer to him as she talked, and was stroking his cheek absently, almost as if petting an animal, and he had to restrain himself not to jerk back or otherwise attack her. It wasn’t the time. He had to play nice, and wait for an opening. This deceivingly small woman had after all beaten Buffy more than once, and there was no way he could take her one on one like this. So he forced himself to smile and play along.

“Me neither,” she replied pleasantly as she walked back to the sofa, where she sat, extending her arm for a minion to refill her glass. “I am so tired of being stuck on this plane, of sharing…”

She stopped talking and blinked several times, suddenly looked disoriented, maybe a little weaker, and Spike could only grind his teeth that she was too far for him to attack now that there seemed to be an opening.

“Oh, there it goes again,” she said with a small growl, a hand reaching to her temple. “Boys, get me something to eat, I’m not feeling so…”

Two minions darted out of the room without waiting for any more orders, but Spike barely paid attention to them, his incredulous gaze focused on the woman in front of him. Or rather, on what had been a woman, but was now a man, still clad in a red silk scrap of a dress, who was looking at him looking as bewildered as Spike felt.

Unwilling to appear in front of Spike out of breath and with red cheeks from her running, Buffy slowed down a little before she reached the apartment complex and walked the last couple of hundred yards, collecting her thoughts and thinking on how she was going to tell him exactly. Blunt honesty? Ask him beforehand what he felt for her? Forgo words and go straight to lips action?

She was still deciding when she reached his floor. As she was about to knock and just let things happen as they would come, she noticed that the door wasn’t closed. A little puzzled, she pushed it open and stepped in, calling out softly.

The words died in her throat as her eyes fell on the corpse lying, face up, a little past the entrance in a growing stain of blood, with a stake protruding from its chest. One of Glory’s minions. Dead. In Spike’s apartment.

Walking around the body, she quickly made her way to the bedroom, then checking out the bathroom, calling out, louder now and with more urgency, Spike’s name. Her calls received no reply, and her steps brought her back in front of the minion. She stared at it, but her mind was elsewhere. Somewhere out there, Spike had been taken to Glory.

And she just didn’t know what she was most worried about. Him telling the goddess what she wanted to know, or him dying because he wouldn’t talk.

Chapter 12: Not So Helpless

Under Spike’s astonished gaze, Glory suddenly transformed, and in her place there was now a man who finished her sentence seamlessly.

There was something very creepy going on, and it wasn’t only due to the fact that the guy was wearing a short red silk dress and equally red high heels shoes. No, the disturbing part was that Spike knew the guy. He had seen him talking with Buffy a couple of times before, at the Bronze and at a party. And that man, who had been so close to her, joking with her, had in fact been all along the very person Buffy probably wanted dead the most.

“I am not,” he snapped. “Sharing a body doesn’t make me her, thank God. And I asked who you were, I know quite well who I am.”

As he talked, he had walked to a door in the back of the room, and Spike’s eyes followed him, thoughts running wildly in his mind. Sharing a body, the boy had said, but not her. Did that mean he wasn’t a hell god or whatever Glory was? Could he be simply human? And vulnerable?

As Spike pondered his options – not that he had many, chained as he was – the man came back, now dressed in jeans and a shirt. He gave a questioning glance at Spike, as if expecting something from him, then shrugged and settled his attention on the remaining minion, who seemed to flinch under his gaze.

“He is the Key the magnificent Glorificus will soon use to return to her world,” the minion intoned pompously, “and rule as she was destined since…”

“Oh, cut it out,” the guy interrupted, rolling his eyes. “And why aren’t you dead?”

The minion took a step back, clearly nervous now, maybe even afraid, although the man wasn’t armed as far as Spike could see. That was interesting, he thought. If Glory’s lackeys were afraid of whoever she shared her body with, maybe the guy wasn’t too bad. Maybe he could even help.

“The glorious Glorificus would be most displeased if you were to hurt me again, sir,” the minion said, a bit too nervously to be really convincing. “Or if you were to harm her Key in any way. He is to remain safe until the ritual.”

Shaking his head lightly, the man took a couple of steps closer to Spike, and observed him thoughtfully. There was something in his eyes that the ex-vampire didn’t like in the slightest, a sense of doubt.

And that was when Spike understood. It wasn’t doubt. It was knowledge. The knowledge that no, Spike wasn’t the Key. And if he knew that, he had to know who the Key was.

“Yes, mate, I’m the Key,” Spike announced quietly but forcefully, his eyes daring the man to pretend otherwise, and at the same time pleading for him not to.

Again, the guy shrugged, almost as if he didn’t care. What was the deal with him, anyway?

Gazes locked, it was clear to both men that neither was duped, and that they both knew more than what they were saying. The silent exchange, however, didn’t go unnoticed, and the minion, forgetting his wariness of the man, came a bit closer, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“What do you mean, sir?” he asked urgently. “It’s not about wanting, he is…”

Breaking eye contact with the human, Spike glanced at the creature on the side and winced at the sudden understanding on his face. This wasn’t good, not good at all.

Before the minion could finish his thought, he was startled by the man suddenly coming toward him. He scrambled back, but was soon against the wall, with nowhere to go as Glory’s alter ego was towering over him. Spike only noticed the dagger a second before it slashed through the creature’s throat.

“She should have made sure earlier,” he said coldly as he wiped the blade on the minion’s robes. “And maybe this time you will stay dead.”

As a cold stare turned back toward him, Spike tensed, wondering if his turn was next. Inconspicuously, he gripped the chains that were holding him up, ready to swing his legs up at the man if he came closer. He was surprised when, instead of walking to him with the dagger ready, the man took the keys from the minion’s waist and reached up to unlock the chains.

“Who are you and why are you helping me?” Spike couldn’t help but ask, although he wasn’t entirely sure yet he was indeed being helped.

His arms were finally free, and he rubbed his chaffed wrists, unconsciously evaluating how hard it would be to jump the guy and knock him out.

“My name is Ben,” came the sighing reply. “And I’m helping you because once she realizes you’re not the Key, she’ll torture you to find out who it is. And I suppose you’re playing this game to protect… it, aren’t you? So you know who it is. And you would talk.”

Outraged at the accusation that he would betray Dawn to save his own skin, Spike closed his fists tightly.

“Oh, just leave, already, before she comes back. Run away from Sunnydale, so she’ll be busy chasing you and will get away from the real Key.”

“I’m… I was a doctor,” he said finally. “I save lives, I don’t just watch without acting. I don’t like what Glory is doing, but I can’t stop her. I don’t have her powers, I can’t control her, I can just set you free and hope that you’ll be long gone before she takes over again.”

As he coolly observed Ben, Spike was almost frightened by the sudden deadly turn his thoughts were taking, roused by the man’s comment that he didn’t have Glory’s powers. The guy had been nice to him, was helping him, wanted to help Dawn too, so how could he even consider…

“A doctor, uh?” Spike said quietly. “So you agree that saving lives is what matters most?”

As he talked, Spike took a step toward Ben and proffered his hand, a seemingly friendly gesture of thanks.

“Of course,” Ben acquiesced with his statement as he shook his hand. “Why…”

Before the poor guy could understand what as going on, Spike’s hold on his hand had tightened. Despite muscles that were aching from his previous chained up position, he managed to throw him over his shoulder, effectively stunning the guy as he landed hard on the floor. Trapping his arms under his body, Spike straddled Ben’s chest.

“Just tell me something,” he said in a quietly dangerous voice. “If you die, does Glory die with you?”

Blinking wildly, Ben shook his head, denial or pleading rising on his lips, but Spike had already found the answer he needed in his frightened gaze.

Buffy didn’t know how long she had remained staring at the blood seeping on Spike’s carpet when she finally snapped out of her stupor. She couldn’t just stand there and wait for the world to collapse around her. She needed to do something. Needed to protect Dawn, and needed to find Spike before he was confronted to the choice of betraying her or dying. She just wasn’t sure what to do first. And yet she had to decide.

Finding Spike’s phone, she was grateful for the little notes next to it with all the Scoobies numbers, for she wasn’t sure her brain was in any state to supply those numbers right now. She first called her home. She counted under her breath how many times the tone rang – way too many times, and her heart beat a little faster with each ring – until her mother’s voice finally answered, very sleepy.

“Mom, listen to me, it’s very important,” she said urgently. “Wake Dawn, and get out of the house now. Don’t waste time packing or anything. Drive straight to Giles’, and stay there until I come to get you. You understand?”

All sleepiness was gone when Joyce answered. “Yes, yes I understand. What’s happening, Buffy?”

With that, Buffy hung up and dialed the next number. Just as shortly, she asked Willow to also go to Giles’ and do whatever spell she could come up with to protect his apartment. As Joyce had done, Willow agreed and asked what was going on, but again Buffy couldn’t make herself say the words. Next, she called Xander’s place, and asked him and Anya to run to the store, grab that sphere that was supposed to repel Glory, and bring it to Giles’ apartment. And finally she called Giles and told him everyone was on their way to his place.

“Are you coming too?” He asked worriedly. “Is it Glory? What’s going on?”

The words she hadn’t been able to say so far caught in her throat. Saying them out loud somewhat made it more real, scarier, but she had to tell him, just in case she didn’t find Glory, or found her too late.

“She has Spike. And he knows who the Key is. I have to find them before he talks.”

There was a brief silence on the other side of the line as the information sank in, and then Giles asked:

“How will you find her? You don’t know where she is. Why don’t you join us and we can leave town within the hour?”

“I do know where to start,” Buffy answered in a whisper. “And I have to find Spike.”

With one hand on each side of the man’s face, Spike hesitated. He had seen the look Ben was now giving him many times when he was a vampire. Countless times. The look of understanding and fear, when it became clear that death was merely a second away. This look had never stopped him before. And he couldn’t let it stop him now. He wasn’t doing this for pleasure. He had a reason, this time. A very good reason, who had pretty doe eyes, silky brown hair and who answered to the name of Dawn. And with her, the added reason that many, many people would suffer if Glory were left to roam free. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and broke Ben’s neck.

When he blinked his eyes open again, he stared for a second at the limp body under him. Dead, undoubtedly. Not the first dead body he had ever seen, but the first time he felt nausea rising in his throat at the sight. Scrambling to his feet, he forced his thoughts and too rapid heartbeat to calm down and tried to concentrate.

Still shocked by what he had just done, he didn’t hear anyone approaching until the blade pierced his shoulder. Crying out in pain, he jerked away and turned to face his attacker. The two minions Glory had sent out for food had come back, with a woman. As one of the minions held on to her, the fear that was already present on her face leaped tenfold when her eyes took in the scene in the apartment. A creature like those who had attacked her laying in its own blood in a corner, a seemingly dead man a few steps from that, and another one that had just been stabbed from behind and was now fighting one of her aggressors. When the second one let go of its hold on her arm, she did the only sensible thing. She ran away.

Still numb, Spike defended himself more by reflex than by real will to fight. As a result the blade that was already stained with his blood, the same blade that Ben had used a few moments ago, before he killed him, that blade met his flesh again, slashing along his ribs first, then deeper on his thigh. This third wound brought him back to his senses. Dying now made no sense at all, and he most certainly wasn’t going to let himself be beaten by two scrawny and ugly little things that were calling out to their fallen goddess as they fought. Once the determination to fight had come back, it only took him a minute to seize the still bloody blade and use it to send the minions to join Ben in the afterlife.

The dagger fell to the floor as he found himself standing alone, surrounded by three dead minions and a man who had had the bad luck to share his body with the Beast. Now that the danger had gone, the numbness had returned. He knew, abstractly, that he should have been happy that Dawn would be safe now, that had been the whole point of his actions since he had awoken in front of Glory. But he couldn’t make himself feel any happiness. He couldn’t make himself feel anything at all. As he frowned at the mess he had made, his eyes fell on the few candles on the table behind the sofa. He looked at the dead man, then at the candles again. He had to be sure, completely sure, that Glory was gone for good, he couldn’t risk her being able to take control of the body even if it was only a corpse. So carefully, meticulously, he went through each room of the apartment and used the candles to set it on fire, finishing by the living room to which he paid special attention. Holding part of his shirt over his face, he glanced one more time at the growing blaze before painfully making his way out.

Chapter 13: Villians Gone

After her phone calls, Buffy grabbed the heavy sword that was displayed on the custom shelves and purposefully strode out of the apartment. As she had told Giles, she knew where to start her research, but it was where to continue it that might prove difficult.

It didn’t take long for her to reach the spot where, a few weeks before, she had chased and killed Glory’s giant hunting snake. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but clearly the snake had been bound to return to its master. So Glory’s lair had to be in the neighborhood. The only problem was that there were quite a few houses around, and knocking on strangers’ doors in the middle of the night in Sunnydale was probably an excellent way to meet an untimely death by firearm. Or, even worse, having to find out which of her friends she trusted most to pick buckshot out of her butt, she thought ruefully.

As she was walking around, attentive to anything that appeared out of the ordinary, Buffy saw a figure some distance away, a woman it seemed, who was running out of a building. Deciding that this fell into the ‘out of the ordinary’ category – at night, people usually tended to run toward houses and their safety, not out – Buffy quickened her pace. She was just about to enter through the gaping door when she caught sight of the limping man who was coming toward her, and, at the same time, smelled the smoke. She rushed in to him.

A flash of surprise went through his features, quickly replaced by a mask of determination. He caught her wrist and pulled her toward the exit.

She couldn’t help glancing back to where he had come from, wondering if she had to worry about any nasty coming after them. He would have said so it they were in danger, she decided, and followed him outside. He didn’t stop until they were at a respectable distance from the now blazing fire, and rested a hand on a nearby tree for support as he caught his breath. Already, there were sirens in the distance, and Buffy turned her full attention to her companion, taking the time to assess his wounds. The slash to his side didn’t seem too deep, but the one on his leg was still bleeding.

“Is anything going to come after us?” she asked him with a doubtful glance at the fire.

“Let’s get you home, then,” she said quietly, and, unbidden, wove an arm around his shoulder, as much to support him as to reassure herself that he was safe.

“I appreciate the gesture,” he said with a crooked smile, “but if you could avoid pressing on open wounds, I’d appreciate it even more.”

She noticed, then, the bloody spot on his shoulder, and winced as she mumbled an apology. More careful now, she slipped her arm lower, to his waist. Tentatively, he rested his own arm on her shoulders, accepting her help to take his weight off his wounded leg as they slowly made their way back to his apartment.

Earlier, her only thoughts had been to tell him about her feelings, but now didn’t seem like a good time for that, not when he had just spent some quality time with Glory and was bleeding from at least two serious wounds.

They took a couple more steps in silence, and then wonderful words glided in the night air.

“How…” she started, but was unable to finish her question. The nightmare was over, that was all that really mattered. No more fearing for Dawn’s life. No more wondering when Glory would turn up on her doorstep again.

“She thought it was me,” Spike said blankly. “I don’t know why, but she got the strange notion that I was the Key. So I played along and when I had the chance I just… I killed her.”

He sounded tired, so tired that Buffy couldn’t help thinking that it was a bit more complicated than what he was saying, but she didn’t push the matter.

“And the fire?” she asked softly after a moment, as they were arriving in sight of his place.

“’Was just being careful. Didn’t want her to come back from the dead to pester us some more. Ashes to ashes.”

He said the last part so quietly she barely caught it. They walked the rest of the way in silence, except for a couple of stifled moans in the stairs. They staggered a little when coming in the apartment, and both froze at the sight of the dead minion on the floor.

“Your housekeeping skills are a bit lacking,” Buffy joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Surprisingly, he didn’t reply to her comment, just kept staring at the corpse until Buffy pulled him into motion again.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she suggested, hoping her worry over his wounds didn’t show too much in her voice.

“How would you even reach your shoulder?” she pointed out calmly. “So, bedroom or bathroom?”

With a quiet sigh, he directed their steps to the bathroom, and she helped him sit on the edge of the tub. She ran warm water in the sink, and, under his direction, retrieved the first aid kit from the closet. While she was pulling out everything she would need from the box, he painstakingly removed his jacket. She noticed how he flinched as he moved his shoulder, and stepped closer to help with his shirt and t-shirt. He let her divest him without protest, which just proved to Buffy how tired he had to be.

As his top half was bared to her gaze, she had to chastise herself and remind her wandering eyes and thoughts that this was not the time to ogle. She helped him turn sideways, and with a warm washcloth cleaned first the blood on his shoulder and back to have a better look at the cut. It wasn’t very wide, but it looked deep, and she wondered out loud if he wouldn’t be better off getting medical attention from the hospital.

“I’ve been hurt worse than that before,” he said to explain his refusal. “Just tape it together, if you will.”

Rolling her eyes at the back of his head, she did as he had asked after cleaning the area thoroughly with disinfectant. He complained a little at the stinging, and she pointed out that he wasn’t a vampire anymore, and he would hurt much more if the wound became infected. That quieted his recriminations, and he let her finish without another word.

Next, she checked out the shallow gash along his ribs. It wasn’t a serious wound, but she couldn’t help shivering at the thought that, if it had been deeper, it might have been critical. With gentle moves, she cleaned and bandaged the long cut. Her cheeks warmed a little when her hand brushed against his taut muscles, an innocent but quite unnecessary touch. She glanced up at his face, only to find that his eyes were unfocused.

“Get up,” she instructed softly. “Take your pants off so I can bandage…”

“You’ve done quite enough,” he said more calmly. “I can finish, thanks, really I…”

Standing straight, she crossed her arms in an unmistakable display of determination.

“I am not leaving until you are completely bandaged and resting on your bed,” she announced very seriously. “So, pants off. Now.”

A definite blush was creeping up his cheeks, and as he shook his head, Buffy thought that she understood the problem.

“Your pants are already ruined,” she said, stifling a chuckle, “so I could cut the leg off completely, and you wouldn’t have to take them off”.

He looked relieved at her suggestion, and simply nodded. As she carefully used scissors to cut the leg above mid-thigh, exposing the full wound, her eyes briefly strayed a little higher. Boxers of briefs, by his reaction at the thought of taking his pants off, she obviously had her answer. Neither.

One last time, she cleaned, disinfected and bandaged, and was almost sorry when she was done and didn’t have an excuse to touch the silk of his skin any more. She left the bathroom and closed the door to give him some privacy. With a look of distaste at the minion’s body, she went to the phone and called Giles house.

As Spike came out of the bathroom, he could hear Buffy talking, apparently explaining on the phone what little he had told her about his adventures in Gloryland. Limping slightly, he walked to his bedroom and quickly traded his cut trousers for sweat pants. Then, he went to the window, opened it and slipped out on the balcony. The cool air of the night raised goose bumps on his exposed flesh, but he didn’t really feel the cold. It was inside that he was cold. In the place that most certainly hosted his soul and that was very much aching right now.

Leaning against the railing, he just let his eyes wander on the park below, although it was too dark to distinguish more than vague shapes. He thought he could smell smoke in the air, but it might have been his imagination.

He heard Buffy approach and blinked away the tears before they had a chance to roll on his cheeks. She wouldn’t have understood. She had known him as a vampire, a killer, and was keeping him close for his fighting skills. If he admitted that his kill of the night had touched him so much, he would have to explain to her why, and she didn’t need to know that a human had perished so that her sister, and the world, could be safe. She had enough on her mind as it was. And, truthfully, he didn’t fancy reacquainting himself with the ‘you’re a monster and a killer’ look in her eyes. Especially when it was this same look he had seen in his own eyes in the mirror a few minutes before. For a very strange reason, he had thought, really believed, that being human had made him a good man, a card-carrying member of the white hats club instead of just an accidental ally. But, obviously, goodness was all relative, and he still had a killer in him, if not a demon.

He was startled when a warm hand rested lightly on his shoulder – the uninjured one – and he turned to face Buffy.

“You’re going to catch cold,” she said softly. “Why don’t you get in?”

He nodded and followed her back inside. Without a word, she pulled the bed sheet back and invited him with a gesture to get on the bed. Too tired to protest against her bossing him around, he laid down, careful not to put too much pressure on his bandaged shoulder. With a soft smile, she drew back the sheet, tucking him in like a child, and sat on the side of the bed next to him.

He shook his head, feeling his eyes ready to shut but battling to keep them open a little longer.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she murmured, leaning a little closer to him. “What you did tonight for me and Dawn, that was… I won’t forget it.”

He wanted to tell her something, anything, but words were escaping him as he drifted into sleep, and he barely felt her hand caressing his cheek, or her lips brushing against his.

For a little moment, Buffy watched Spike sleep, her hand still cupping his face gently, her thumb running over a sharp cheekbone. Who would have thought, looking at this sleeping man, that he had just battled a goddess, and sent her back to the hell she had come from? He looked so quiet in his sleep, so peaceful… so beautiful.

She wished he had stayed awake a little longer, and maybe they would have had this conversation she so longed to have with him. But it was probably better like this. If she had told him tonight, he might have believed that she was saying the words out of just simple gratitude. She was grateful, yes, but it only added to her feelings for him, it had not created them. She had been attracted to him for a little while, now, longer than she would admit to herself, and she couldn’t let him believe that he had to do incredible heroic acts to keep her love.

With another brush of her lips, on his forehead this time, she got off the bed. She pulled down the shades on the window, so he wouldn’t be awoken too early by the sun, and turned off the light after a last glance at his sleeping form.

With a muttered curse at the minion – vampires were so much better in that regard, leaving only ashes and no cumbersome bodies – she picked it up and left the apartment. She disposed of it in a bush on her way to Giles. Despite her phone call, the Scoobies and her family had decided to remain there until she joined them, just to be sure that everything was alright, and to hear again what had happened. She didn’t have anything new to tell them, since she hadn’t wanted to press Spike when he was so obviously tired, but they seemed to enjoy, and be relieved, to hear again that Glory was out of their lives for good.

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Kallysten - kallysten_fr@yahoo.com

Practically Perfect