In His Shadow

by Night Nymph

Summary: Spike decides he will find out what is wrong with Buffy and find a way to make it right. What he gets is a little more than he bargained for and perhaps not what it seems to be. Starts after "Normal Again."

Rating: R

Disclaimers: The characters are still not mine. The back-story is still not mine. Hope Joss doesn't mind me borrowing them again.

Spoilers: Everything up to "Normal Again."

Distribution: You can have it if you want it, just e-mail me first.

Dedication: This one is for w-e-coyote, Darryl J, CraZchica, Aquila, and Ivy who reviewed my first fanfic - you guys gave me the motivation to post this one - and for my husband who has always encouraged me.

Thanks: A big thank you to my betas Letta, Treacle Antlers and Canela for their excellent advice and input. I couldn't have done this without them. Any mistakes herein are mine.

Prologue

It was infuriating to admit it, but Harris had been right. There was no denying that. Seeing Buffy alive again, realizing that it was truly her descending the staircase and not that bloody robot whose creation he'd spent over four months regretting, had been the happiest moment of his entire existence. For Buffy, Spike now knew, the opposite was likely true.

In fact, if he thought about it, many of the best moments of his unlife probably represented the worst of hers. Spike let the memories play through his mind as he paced restlessly in his crypt: that time he comforted her on the back porch stairs after her Mum went to the hospital, the time she invited him back into her home just before their big battle with Glory, their first kiss. Even the first time they had... well he wasn't sure if simple words could describe what happened that night. Buffy had though. She called it the most perverse and degrading experience of her life. Even if not entirely true, definitely not a happy memory for her: just like all the others.

Spike stopped pacing for a moment and glanced, without focus, at the dusty crypt window, its muted glow clearly showing him that the sun remained cruelly shining. His thoughts turned dark in response. He had lived, so to speak, through many disasters, many close calls, and many unhappy moments, but Buffy's death had been the worst moment of his unlife. He could remember vividly how her lifeless body lay on the cold, broken concrete, and the painful wrench of loss that followed. Not so long ago, he might have enjoyed the sight, would have danced on her grave, and perhaps that would have been better. But not anymore. He had sealed his fate the moment he'd decided to help the Slayer save the world from Angelus' crazy plan for destruction. He was lost, just as Drusilla had said.

The irony was that, for Buffy, her death had brought her release. It had meant the end of her struggles and the beginning of a peaceful afterlife. An afterlife she had been ripped from. Now she, too, was lost.

Spike started pacing again. His ruminations weren't helping, but then again, they seldom did. He had tried to figure out how to win Buffy for himself, but nothing he'd done so far had been successful. Not really. Giving her his love didn't seem to work. The few things that made any progress at all - trying to cut her down, tempting her, and isolating her from her friends - would likely destroy the Buffy he loved. Spike didn't want it to be that way, a hollow victory. It had been killing her, she'd said. How had he not realized? Well, maybe he had, but had tried not to admit it, even to himself. No, he didn't want to hurt her anymore. He really wanted to help.

Something was wrong with her, and he had to fix it, make her Buffy again. Of course that would likely mean the end of any chance he might have to be with her. Bloody hell, he thought, can I really go through this all again? Losing Drusilla was bad enough. What had he told Harmony? "Love is pain, baby." Why did he have to be so bloody right all the time? He threw an empty bottle at the crypt wall, finding little release in the scattering shards.

Spike knew he should rest, but he couldn't make himself be still. Besides, if he did sleep, he might dream, and that could break his resolve. He knew now what he had to do. He just wished the bloody sun would set already, because the waiting only made it harder. It gave his mind time to think of reasons not to do this, to keep on fighting for her love. Spike scoffed at himself. Yeah right, you wanker, she'll never love a thing like you. Even you know it. You told her so the night she died. God, things would have been so much simpler if it had been him who died instead. No one would have even cared. Well, maybe Little Bit.

The thought of Dawn made him smile, and he let it distract him for a while. A glassful of whiskey or two would also help. He snatched a half empty bottle from his stash, glared out the window, drowned his sorrows and waited. As soon as the sun set, he grabbed the only recent thing of Buffy's he had - her lace panties - and headed downtown. It would take him a while to find the demon he was looking for, but he had all night. Spike had the feeling it was going to be a long one.

TBC