Chapter 1: Midnight Walks

Buffy tossed in her bed. She couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. She stared up at the ceiling. Buffy started to think something was wrong with her. Well, even more so than usual. She turned again, flipping around, tangling herself in her comforter. Sighing irritably, she got out of her bed, pulled on her robe and walked down the hallway. Out of habit, she checked on Dawn. One arm was flung across her face and drool trickled down her cheek onto her pink pillow. Buffy smiled. Her little sister. She still couldn't get over the harsh fact that she was once a ball of energy capable of destroying the universe. The all-powerful Key. Buffy had died for her sister, not for the Key. She shook her head, forcing the thought of her death out of her mind.

She quietly closed the door and continued down the hallway. Willow's bedroom was next to Dawn's. Buffy peeked in on her red-headed wiccan friend. A pang of guilt stung Buffy. Willow had been her best friend ever since she had saved her from vampires some six years ago. Buffy watched Willow mature, from a meek, shy girl, to a somewhat confidant witch. Willow had been there for Buffy every step of the way and knew Buffy's feeling's even though she sometimes didn't share them. The guilt pain sharpened when Buffy thought of how Willow had walked on the black side of magicks to bring her back from the dead. That ordeal had left Willow exposed to evil and had almost destroyed the world when Tara died and Buffy almost died, again. Buffy hadn't saved the world that time. She couldn't even save her best friend. Instead it had been Xander, and his endless amount of love for his friends that had stopped scary, veiny Willow. Buffy started to close the door when she spied a head of blackish brown hair nest to the red head. It was Kennedy, one of the Slayers In Training. Willow and her had become, uh, close during this pre-apocalypse show.

Downstairs, she carefully stepped over SITs in sleeping bags. The TV was on and Buffy switched it off. Xander was fast asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. Next to him was the fair-haired Andrew. He was the last member of the incredibly annoying group, The Trio. Willow had flayed Warren, the ringleader and Tara's killer, alive and Andrew, possessed by the First, killed Jonathan to open the Hellmouth. Buffy wished for a camera to snap the Kodak moment and tease Xander for life with it.

Squeaky noises from the basement aroused Buffy's heightened senses. Descending down into the cold, dank, room, she stopped at the foot of the stairs and watched Spike toss and turn on the old, army cot she had set up from him after she found him in the basement of the school, being brainwashed by the First. Buffy shuddered at the thought of the last time her and Spike were together, before he left and came back with his soul. She didn't understand how that made all the difference to her. He was still a vampire after all, just now with a conscience. That last time, he had crossed a line that no one would be able to erase. He had tried to rape her, one of the lowest, foulest, most evil thing someone could do to another. Yet, when he had come back, soul in tact, and she saw his anguish and remorse, she forgave him.

Their entire relationship played out like a Greek tragedy. After everything that they had been through together and that they did to each other, they were sill strongly attracted to each other. As much as they'd deny it in front of everyone, everyone could still tell. Even the SITs who swooned over the vampire secretly, Dawn who couldn't be more thrilled if they ever did get together, even Xander, who hated Spike and wouldn't like anything more than to sweep him up with a broom, knew about their lure to one another. Giles knew it only too well, and had only become fully aware of Buffy's caring for the vampire after he had tried to convince her of the danger of Spike and his part the First used him for. After that ordeal, the rift between slayer and watcher widened tremendously, and Buffy made it clear that Giles no longer played a significant part of her life.

Buffy's eyes wandered over Spike. His chiseled facial features, supple lips, lean yet muscular body. She even liked his wavy, way too gelled, peroxide blond hair. She didn't think it was a Billy Idol complex either, it was pure Spike. When he was William the Bloody, he wasn't so appealing, more bookwormy and hopelessly romantic and broody. Well, he was still kinda broody. She shivered, thinking of how his brownish-green eyes watched her, devouring her because he couldn't literally. They looked at her with passion and hope. Hope that she would love him back as much as he loved her, hope that they would be able to survive each other, together.

"You cold, luv?" His boisterous English accent asked her, startling her.

"A little," she replied, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Well, trot on ov'r 'ere and I'll warm you up a bit," he winked and smirked his signature smirk.

Buffy smiled in spite of herself. "Right, because vampires are so full of warmth."

"Ooh, harsh girl," he said to her. Noticing that her attention was elsewhere, he asked, "You all right, Buff? Y'seem a bit distracted."

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Just thinking."

" 'Bout what, s'pose?"

"Oh, I don't know. The looming threat of the apocalypse, the fact that Giles signed your death sentence, or maybe that there isn't anything wrong with me for once."

Spike looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You don't 'ave to git all cheeky wit me."

Buffy exhaled annoyed, "I wasn't getting 'cheeky'. I was just grumbling."

"Well, grumble on over 'ere. I don't mind," Spike said. He motioned for her to sit next to him as he moved aside on his cot. Buffy complied. "No, tell ol' Spike what's wrong?" He brushed back a lock of her hair that had escaped from her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear. He didn't forget what it was like to touch her, just forgot how long it had been since he had. That last night before he left in search of his soul, was a bad one, one of the worst he'd ever experienced. And since that night, they had little or no physical contact. Wanting to reach over and kiss her, he held at bay his inner man, inner demon.

His thoughts were halted when he found that his hand was wet. Buffy's shoulders shook violently as she sobbed. "Buffy, what's wrong?" Spike asked. She didn't answer, she laid her head in his lap and cried. "Wha 'tis it, luv?" He stroked her head lovingly, concerned for her.

She looked up at him with poofy red eyes, "Is something wrong with me?"

"Aw, this 'ole song and dance again?" He stopped his rant when he saw her pathetic face with her big, green, puppy dog eyes. His face softened, "No," he answered truthfully. "You're perfect. There s'not a thing wrong wit you."

His intense gaze made her feel a little better, safer. "Seriously, Spike. Something's wrong. The SITs did great in their training, Xander and Anya were civil to each other, Dawn and I had some sister-bonding time, nothing attacked us. All in all it was a good day."

She said the last sentence almost disappointedly.

And then you start waltzin' 'round in the middle of the night, show up 'ere, hopin' for a bit of action?" He said slyly trying to get a rise of of her.

"Spike," she warned.

"C'mon, luv. Tell me you weren't thinkin' it?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Maybe." She sighed. "You don't think something's wrong?"

It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes. "No I don't. , Buffy, does something have to be wrong just because you had a good, albeit boring day?" She looked at him quizzically. "You're allowed to be happy."

"Allowed," she whispered hallow-voiced.

"Hey now," Spike turned Buffy's head towards him. His thumb rubbed against her bottom lip. God, her scent was intoxicating, it always had been to him. Everything about her drove him wild. He craved her like he craved cigarettes and blood. "No tears," he told her. He kissed her eyes, kissed her cheeks, kissed her nose. He brought his lips to hers, they were trembling. He didn't know if it was his lips or her lips that were trembling, it had been so long for them. He didn't kiss her, not right away, he just grazed her lips, not sure if she wanted him to go any further.

Buffy wanted his touch, his kiss. She felt his passion for her, even though she tried telling herself it was nothing. God, she wanted him so badly. She wanted to be loved and return that love. She thought of Dawn upstairs, all the potentials sleeping, Xander, Willow, Anya, Giles. There was a war coming and her she was in the basement with the enemy. Well, not the enemy. Her slayer's enemy.

He didn't kiss her though. He knew it wouldn't be right, as much as he wanted it, and he was sure she wanted it too, his conscience told him it wasn't the right time. "She'll tell you. Someday, she'll tell you." The words of Cassie, the psychic girl who predicted her own death, to him echoed in his mind every time he looked at Buffy. Tell him what? He didn't have the foggiest idea. Instead of going for his hormonal instincts, he opted for pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms around her.

Buffy, surprised at his actions, went with it. Damn, she thought. She was almost sure he would kissed her. Caressing his arms, playfully, trying to get him started, didn't work. She pouted a little, but was content with him holding her.

"You know," he said. "When I first saw you I wanted to kill you."

Confused, she sat up to face him. "What? That's not exactly pillow talk, Spike."

He smirked. "Yeah, I know." He sighed. "I was thinking about when I first saw you. In the Bronze, that night I came to kill you. But when I watched you dance with Red and Xander, I didn't want to kill you anymore."

"What did you want to do?"

"I wanted to dance with you."

"Okay, huh?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "I wanted to dance with you, I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to kill you, I wanted to turn you, I wanted to do a lot of things to you."

Buffy thought, "Is that why you didn't kill me right away?"

Spike laughed, "I don't know. Every time I came up against you, I wanted to kill you. Somethin' always held me back, though."

"What?"

"Don't know."

She turned back around, wrapped his arms around her body, and thought about what he said. 'What if?' she thought as she stared off into the shadows.