Home is Where They Have to Take You In ch 1-8

by Slaymesoftly

AU future fic set several years after NFA. Buffy has bought an old house that used to belong to William Pratt. Life is calm until she finds a badly injured amnesiac vampire hiding in a garden shed. He is too burned and starved to be dangerous, so she lets him live. And then the demons come and she doesn't have time to notice how much better he is getting. We know who it is...

2. Home is Where ch 9 - 15

Chapter Nine

Bob remained in his nice, safe, dark corner of the cellar until his senses told him that it would be okay to go into the kitchen. He fixed himself a mug of warm blood, drained it, then made another and carried it into the living room where he turned on the telly and settled down to watch it. Buffy hadn't said when she expected Willow and Katrina to come by, and he wasn't sure if she was planning to be there or not, so he'd dressed and stayed where he could hear if anyone knocked.

Which turned out not to have been necessary, as Buffy came home shortly after he'd gotten comfortable, bringing Willow and Katrina with her. Hearing the TV, Buffy steered them into the living room where Bob was just getting to his feet.

"Don't get up," Katrina said quickly, only her professionalism preventing her reaction to his appearance to show on her face.

"'S alright," he said. "Think my mum may have taught me manners at some point. Always rise when a lady enters the room. Anyway, took one of Buffy's magic pills this morning, and I'm feelin' pretty good."

Katrina nodded. "Uh huh. She's already told me about what happened yesterday when you were on the drugs. Sit down."

Startled, he sat, looking at Buffy for confirmation that he'd done the right thing. She smiled and nodded. "Bob, this is Katrina. She's the healer I told you about. She has some questions for you, and she might want to take a closer look at your burns, okay?"

Katrina turned to Buffy and Willow and smiled apologetically. "Do you mind if we have some privacy? In case I need to examine the wound in his leg?"

Biting back to urge to say she'd already seen everything he had, Buffy nodded. "Okay, just holler if you need us."

"You're not afraid to be here without the Slayer?" Bob asked.

Katrina smiled. "Is there any reason why I should be?"

"No! But…."

"There you go, then. I'm not afraid because there's no reason to be."

He seemed to be pouting. "Just once, I'd like to meet somebody who actually thinks vampires are dangerous."

She gave a small giggle. "Oh, we all know how dangerous most vamps are, believe me. The whole school is devoted to training slayers to keep the vampire population down. But the only other souled vampires that we know about were on our side… most of the time… so I trust you."

"Bloody stupid, if you ask me," he grumbled. "Maybe I'm nothing like those other vampires with souls. You don't know."

"Actually, I do. I've been reading your aura while we've been talking, and it's very clear. Hate to disappoint you, but you're definitely one of the good guys."

"Oh. Well. Good on me, then."

"Exactly. Now, let's see what we can do to help you get better a little faster. May I see your arm?"

By the time Bob had taken his shirt off for her so that she could examine the healing wound from Gill's stake, and he'd pulled up the leg of his pants so that she could look at that, more worrisome injury, she was nodding to herself and reaching into her bag.

"So, Doctor Witch, what's the verdict? Am I going to stay dead?"

"You are. For a good long time, I suspect. If you survived whatever did this to you, I can't imagine what it would take to actually kill –er, dust – you."

"I think a pointy piece of wood would do the job just fine," Buffy said as she followed Willow into the room. "Are you finished with him yet?"

Katrina looked up with a smile. "Yes. I'm just getting out some salve that he should rub on those scars twice a day to soften them up. It has some ingredients that should make them less… well, not less noticeable, because I'm afraid it's going to be a long time before they disappear – if they ever do—" She stopped and glanced into Bob's stricken eyes. "I'm sorry. I just don't know enough about vampire physiology to say. A human would be scarred for life. Buffy says vampires don't keep scars forever, so… But I don't know. I'm just giving you my opinion."

"'S alright, luv. I don't mind them, as long as they won't keep me from being useful. Jus' feel bad for anybody who has to look at me."

"The salve should help a lot. Twice a day. Every day." Katrina glanced up at Buffy. "He might need help with his back. It's going to be a while before they loosen up enough for him to reach everywhere."

"I can do it," Buffy said, not meeting Bob's eyes. "About the other thing…"

Katrina looked at Willow and then back to Buffy. "Willow was worried that he had somehow been given a soul that had belonged to someone you knew. But he's got his own soul. I can tell that for sure. So, it may seem like one she's seen before, but it isn't. It's all his."

Willow frowned but bowed to Katrina's greater knowledge and experience. Buffy just shrugged and said, "So, it really was nothing then, huh, Wills?"

"Yep. Just like I told you. It was nothing. Just a little glitch in the spell probably. It's not like reading souls is my specialty, and I probably wasn't as good at it when I… Yep. Not a problem." She smiled, but her eyes were clouded with doubt.

After listening to Bob's thanks several times, Buffy saw Willow and Katrina to the door, assuring them that she would call if there was anything new to report. She closed the door behind them and rested her head against it for a moment.

"Slay—Buffy?"

She raised her head and gave Bob a forced smile. "Let's get that salve on you, huh? The sooner we start, the sooner it works."

"How about you let me see what I can do for myself, then you can catch all those hard-to-reach places…" He gave what in a less disfigured face would have passed for a leer, but even Buffy wasn't so oblivious that she couldn't tell he was just trying to jolly her out of what seemed to be a moment of melancholy.

"Ha, bloody, ha, Bob," she threw back at him, smiling in recognition of his attempt to cheer her up. "You wish. Call me when you're done with what you can reach." She flounced out to the kitchen, where she acknowledged both her temporary disappointment that the soul wasn't Spike's (something she'd almost immediately figured out was what Willow was trying to hide from her), and the way Bob had been able to brighten her mood so easily. Her reverie was interrupted by Bob's plaintive, "I need you, Slayer," and she rose to her feet.

"I'm coming," she called back. "But you'd better have your pants on…"

After a couple of days, the routine had been established. Buffy got up, showered, got dressed and ate her cereal. While she was drinking her coffee, Bob would get up and rub the salve over all the parts of his body he could reach, then call her to come do his back. She would go downstairs, take the jar of salve, and rub it on all the scars he couldn't reach – which were all on his back.

In the evening, they would repeat the ritual, with Bob having brought the jar upstairs at some point during the day so that Buffy could do his back as close to twelve hours from the last time as could fit into her schedule. By the second day, the wound on his rib had healed over and it was added to the flesh to be covered in salve. Bob could reach all of it but the part that went around his side, which was added to Buffy's territory.

They were several days into the routine when Buffy noticed that not only were the scars diminishing somewhat, but the flesh beneath them had filled out and there were now visible muscles across his back.

"Hey! I've finally fattened you up. Yay!"

"Fat? I'm getting fat?" He whirled in a circle, trying to see his own back.

"And they think women are vain…" She stopped him and held him still. "I just meant that you aren't skin and bones anymore, you doofus." She blushed and dropped her hands. "It looks good."

"Oh. Well, that's alright, then." He relaxed and looked at his torso. "Yeah. I guess I am filling out some. It's hard to tell with all the…."

"They're getting better too," Buffy said with more sympathy than she usually showed him. "I can see the difference, even if you can't. Trust me, they're getting better."

"I'm an ungrateful, self-centered git," he said. "You've saved my life, healed my boo boos…" He smiled when she flinched at hearing her own words. "… and I'm worrying that I'm not going to be pretty. I'm sorry, pet."

He dropped his head as she bent to put the salve away. When she stood up, she patted him on his salve-covered head. "Whoa! I think your hair's growing back!" She rubbed her hand over the stubble she could just feel, laughing when he made a humming sound in his throat.

"Like that, huh? It made you purr."

"I did not purr!"

"Hate to break it to you, macho man, but vamps purr when they're happy or content. And you purred."

With a giggle, she waved goodbye and ran up the stairs to leave for work, leaving him staring after her with a wistful smile on his face.

Don't even think about it, you git. You're ugly as sin, and you probably will be from now on. Count your blessings that she hasn't thrown you out yet, and don't be dreaming things you've got no right to dream.

When Buffy got home in the afternoon, he was once again asleep in front of the TV and a soap opera. She watched as he began to dream again, flinching when he began to struggle and whimper. A scream ripped from his throat as he sat up, panting for air and looking around wildly. Buffy approached, but waited until his fangs went away before resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just another…"

"Daymare?"

"Flashback," he said tersely. "I think they're flashbacks."

"What happened in this one?"

He shook his head. "I start to forget 'soon's I wake up. I think there was a dragon…" He glanced up at her. "Don't suppose you've ever seen a dragon?"

"I have, actually. Nasty thing. But it wasn't from this dimension. I don't think we have any dragons here."

"Well, wherever I was, there was one there. And he breathed fire. At me. And I was… I don't know now, but it seems like I couldn't get away. Must have been chained up or something."

"This is great!" He stared at her dubiously. "No, really. Think about it. You're starting to remember – at least when you're asleep. Your brain must be healing too." She stared at him, chewing her lip. "It's too bad there isn't some way to get the salve in there…"

"Uh uh, Slayer. We won't be doing brain surgery on me so that you can rub salve on my brain cells. It's bad enough you tried to make me eat it to help clear up the scars on my vocal cords."

"Hey, that could have worked! You just kept swallowing it too fast."

"Uh huh."

He stood up and stretched, his arms now much more flexible and able to reach all the way up. "So what's the plan for tonight, Buffy? More telly?"

"No, I just came home to do your back. I've got to go out again. There's some kind of demon outbreak going on all over the city."

He frowned. "Demon outbreak? Sounds dangerous."

She blinked at him. "Uh, Bob? My job? Dangerous is kinda the default mode." When his frown deepened, making the scars still across his face crinkle up, she sighed. "I'll be fine. I promise. And if I'm not… I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"I should be helping," he said abruptly. "I could help."

"And you will," she soothed. "As soon as you've got full range of motion and I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

"Was taking care of myself long before I met you, Slayer," he snarled, then recoiled, just as surprised as she was by his anger.

"And you were doing a bang-up job of it!" she snapped back. "Or have you forgotten why you were lurking in my shed, Mr. I-can't-catch-anything-to-eat!"

"I'm sorry, Buffy." His anger vanished as quickly as it had come. "I guess I'm still testy from dreaming about being dragon shish-ka-bob – pun not intended."

Her shoulders slumped as she relaxed. "It's fine. I know you're getting antsy, being here all day by yourself. But there's nothing I can do about it. We've got stuff going on right now, and I have to do my job."

"Know that, Slayer. I said I was sorry."

"Okay then, let's get that salve on your back so I can get out of here."

He obediently followed her downstairs, stripping off his tee-shirt as he did so. With clinical detachment, Buffy grabbed the salve and began to rub it in to the scars still only too visible on his back. As she rubbed, she could feel the much smaller ridges and new skin. "I think these are getting a lot better," she said. "I can still see them, but it's starting to feel more like real skin."

"Know what vamp skin should feel like, do you?" he asked.

"Don't."

He sighed, accepting her warning. In spite of his occasional questions, she still refused to talk about Spike with him, telling him it was none of his business. She also refused to tell him that it was because she didn't want to be reminded of what she'd lost, now that she'd spent years accepting it; and he was beginning to understand her well enough to realize he was awakening painful memories every time he asked her to talk about Spike.

She put the jar down and headed for the stairs. "I don't know what time I'll be back. There's more blood in the fridge and you can set the clock on the stove to remind you when to get to the rest of those scars." Without further conversation, she ran up the stairs, leaving him to stare after her.

It wasn't long before boredom took over and Bob wandered upstairs to find something to do. He ignored the TV, going up the stairs that were becoming more and more familiar now that he could shower every day or so. He still needed the banister to get up, but he was able to come down on his feet with just help from the wall and the railing.

As had become his habit, he went first into Buffy's room and lay down on her bed, inhaling her scent and indulging in a few moments of sheer pleasure. He resolutely kept his hand off his cock, refusing to sully his relationship with her by having a wank in her bed, regardless of how badly he wanted to. His body's reaction to her was becoming more and more difficult to hide as the loose sweatpants had a tendency to tent in front him every time she touched him or got too close.

"Pathetic wanker, that's what I am," he muttered, rolling his head over and catching a glimpse of the old books on her nightstand. Curious, he sat up and opened the first book. His hand began to shake as he read the dedication. "To William, on your twentieth birthday, Love Mother." Visions flashed through his mind – too fast for him to study or sort them out – but causing a physical reaction that he couldn't understand or control. He trembled all over, his nerves and muscles jumping under his skin.

He dropped the book and grabbed one of the others, opening it to find it was a journal of some sort. As he read, he could feel the reaction spreading to his brain; awareness growing, he could feel the neurons connecting in his head, until he dropped the journal and fell to the floor. "Bloody hell," he whispered just before he passed out.

He woke up just in time to hear Buffy and Dawn entering the house. He scuttled to the door, gaining his feet when he got to the hallway, and dashed across the hall to the bathroom, huddling in the shower and trying to gain control of himself. As he wrapped his arms around his body, he rocked back and forth, memory after memory crashing into his consciousness. The fight in the alley; the dragon; Angel's flaming death as he brought the dragon down with him; his own capture and subsequent interminable torment by the angry minions in the hell dimension he'd been carried to. He remembered Illyria, fighting her way through a horde of demons until she could free him and drag him back through a portal with her. His memory was still blank from that time until he came to himself only yards from Buffy's back gate, but he remembered every second of his waking time since then, including Buffy's kindness and care. He reached one hand to his face, feeling the still-visible scars there and the newly softened skin.

As he heard the girls coming up the stairs, he stood up, took a deep breath, rinsed his face off in the sink, and opened the door just as they got to the top.

"Oh, there you are. I wondered." Buffy looked tired and bruised, and a bit bloody if his nose was telling him the truth. It wasn't a conscious decision not to tell her who he was, but an instinctive need to conceal it that had him choking out, "Sorry, Slayer. Was just… Are you hurt?"

Buffy blinked at the change of subject, but answered him. "Just a little. It's been a rough night." She flexed one arm and winced. "I might have to dip into your pain pill stash, though, if this isn't better by tomorrow."

Dawn took a shocked look at Bob, and he remembered that she'd been gone from the house much of the past few days while he'd been healing.

"You look a lot better," she said. "Almost… well, not human, cause… but, you know… better." She headed for her room. "I'm just going to go crash in my bed now. If I never see another demon, it'll be too soon."

Bob/Spike looked at Buffy and stepped closer. "What's goin' on out there?"

She shrugged. "We don't know. Bunch of ugly demon-things that aren't even from this dimension, as far as we can tell. They're searching for something. We don't know what it is, but they don't care who or what they kill to find it; hence the rough night." She yawned. "I lost track of how many we killed. All I know is, I need some rest before I go back out there. I hope to hell none of them followed me home."

"Go on," he said. "Get some sleep. I'll stay up and keep watch for you."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, but was too tired to argue. "Okay. Thanks, Bob. I appreciate it. Not that I think they're likely to come looking in the Slayer's house for whatever it is, but…" She missed the way his face went still at her words, and the way his hands clenched at his sides. Dawn, however, had turned around to say 'goodnight' and had not missed it; she frowned at the vampire, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"You wouldn't have any idea what they're looking for, would you, Bob?" she asked, emphasizing "you".

Before he could respond, Buffy said, "Don't be silly, Dawn. What would he know about it? He never leaves the house."

"I'll be downstairs, keeping watch," he said, moving to the stairs and descending before anyone could ask anything else. As he retreated, he could hear Dawn argue, "But Buffy, we don't know what happened to him before, or where it happened. What if they're here for him?"

"Then they'll find out they can't have him. Don't worry about it. Just go to bed."

"You know I'm not going to be the only one who thinks of that," Dawn warned as she went back to her room. "Giles is going to be all over it. And Bob's not stupid," she added as she closed the door.

Buffy stared from her comfy-looking bed to the stairs, then groaned and followed Bob downstairs. She found him prowling around the house, checking doors and windows, a mug of blood in hand.

"Thought you were going to bed," he said, keeping his head turned away. Even though he'd been in close proximity to Buffy for almost a week, now that he knew who he really was, he was afraid to meet her eyes, sure that his would give him away.

Buffy sighed. "If they're here for you, we'll deal with it. Don't do anything noble or stupid while I'm asleep, okay?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I don't want to wake up and find you've gone away to hide somewhere because you're trying to protect us. I'm going to put Dawn back inside the Slayer compound until this is over, so she'll be safe."

"And you?"

"And I'm going to be kicking demon butt until they decide their own dimension is a better place to be. Promise me. Now."

"If it's me, I'm putting you in danger," he said with a stubborn glare. When her hard stare began to turn into a confused frown, he looked away quickly. "I don't want to do that. You've done enough for me."

"It's my job, Bob. It's who I am. The demons are here. Doesn't matter what brought them here, it's up to me to get rid of them. If you go out there and hide somewhere else, it isn't going to stop them from looking; it's just going to distract me while I worry about you. Now promise me, so I can get some sleep."

"Alright, Slayer. I promise. When you wake up in the morning, I'll still be here. But we're going to talk about this again."

"Whatever. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, love."

Buffy stumbled up the stairs and to her bed, shedding clothes as she went, and falling face down on it, was asleep before her eyes were even shut.

Chapter Ten

When Dawn came down to make coffee the next morning, she was surprised to find Bob sitting in the kitchen and the pot already perking. He looked tired, but he glanced up and smiled at her. It occurred to her that his face had recovered to the point that it was now possible tell what kind of expression he was wearing under the scars.

"Morning, Dawn," he said.

"Good morning. I didn't really think you'd be here when we got up." Her face reflected both relief and disappointment.

"Your sis had a good point to make. If they're here for me, they aren't going to stop looking just because I'm not in this house. And can't say I fancy going back with them, so I'm not particularly interested in throwing myself on their mercy…"

Dawn narrowed her eyes at him. "You know they're here for you, don't you? You remember."

He sighed and nodded. "Remember enough to know I'm putting you all in danger. Was never my intent to… Don't know what Blue was thinking, bringing me to Buffy's doorstep."

"Whatever a 'blue' is, it probably figured the Slayer was the best one to protect you." Dawn shrugged. "It's what she does best – protect people."

"That she does," he said softly. Along with all his other soft tissues, his vocal chords had also been recovering, and something in his voice brought Dawn's eyes flying up to his. He looked away, trying to avoid her suspicious glare while she studied his disfigured visage with suddenly sharper eyes. Nodding to herself, she turned away, saying with deliberate casualness, "Well, you need to get back in shape soon, Spike. Buffy needs you."

"Know that, Nib—" He bit off his response a split-second too late.

There was an ominous silence as Dawn froze with her back to him. She turned around slowly, a spatula in her hand. "It is you! You. Lying. Piece. Of. Shit," she ground out as she advanced on him, spatula raised. He winced, but didn't try to duck or move away as she hit him several times, opening new cuts on his barely healed head and getting blood in the short brown stubble there.

The blood startled her out of her grief-driven rage, and she dropped her arms. "So, is this going be your MO from now on? Die, come back, don't bother to tell the people who love you, die again, let them grieve again, then die again… Tell me, Bob when were you planning to tell us? To tell Buffy? Or were you just going to let her take care of you until you got healthy enough to leave again?"

"It's not like that, Dawn. I swear. I just came to myself last night – didn't know what to do, what to say, and wanted time to think on it."

"And now that you've thought?" She crossed her arms, tapping one foot and clutching the spatula tightly.

"I still don't know," he whispered, almost to himself. "I'm still trying to figure things out. She can't tell it's me – all she sees are the scars and—and now that I know I've brought danger to her doorstep…"

"Spike, you cannot seriously be thinking about keeping this from her. Not again." He winced, but stood his ground.

"Think about it, Bit. If these things are here for me – and I'm sure they are – who's Buffy more likely to risk her life for? Me, or some random vamp she pulled out of a garden shed? If it comes right down to it, she's safer not knowing." He stood up and flexed his still-recovering arms and shoulders. "Not until we've sent them back to the hell they came from."

"We?" Buffy's voice preceded her into the room. She raised her eyebrows at the two panicked faces in front of her. "What did I miss? And when did you join this fight?" She turned her gaze on Spike, not a trace of recognition in her eyes. He gave an audible sigh of relief, and flashed Dawn a pleading look. Mouth set in a tight line, she turned her back and threw the spatula into the sink.

"What happened to your head?" Buffy tore her attention away from her sister's obvious temper tantrum and back to Spike. "Did she hit you? Dawn! What the hell?"

"It was an accident," Dawn said through clenched teeth as she left the room. "Could've happened to anybody." She ran upstairs and slammed the door to her room.

"Wow, she hasn't done that in years." Buffy frowned at Spike, who was refusing to meet her eyes and trying not to speak. He just shrugged and grabbed a paper towel, wetting it down and patting the small cuts Dawn had given him. In more normal vampire fashion than what Buffy had yet seen, they stopped bleeding very quickly and appeared to be closing up. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

He shook his head, struggling to make his voice sound as rough as it had been the night before. "It's no big thing. Made her mad. She had a right."

Buffy glared at him, but he refused to meet her eyes and didn't volunteer anything else.

"What did you mean by 'until we send them back to hell'?"

Roughening his voice again, he said, "Come on, Slayer. We both know they're here for me. Do you expect me to hide in your cellar while you go out and risk your life for me?"

"We've already had this conversation. They're here. It doesn't matter why they came, or what they're looking for. We—the other slayers and I—are going to have to fight them anyway." She cast a critical eye on his body. "You're not even close to being up for that yet."

"You could let them have me," he said softly. "Let them take me back."

"Back. To wherever they were starving you and letting a dragon use you for target practice? Are you nuts?"

"Not saying I want to go. I'm just putting it out there as an option. Don't want a lot of people getting killed on my account."

"It's not an option," she said with great finality. "Just keep getting better. If we're still fighting them in a couple of days… we'll see then."

She poured herself some coffee and sat down. "I guess buying you underwear is going to have to wait," she said. "I'm going to be spending most of the day at the school, planning strategy with Giles and the coven. There might be some magical way to close the portal they came through — if we can find it. Then all that will be left is cleaning up the demons that get stuck on this side."

Spike got up and went to the stairs. "I'll just go slather myself up then and work on getting stronger." He stopped and stared at her over his shoulder, only turning away when she began to frown and he could see the confusion growing in her eyes.

"Did you know some demons have tentacles?" she asked, watching him through eyes that were troubled and doubtful.

"Yes," he said and disappeared into the basement.

"Giles, what do we know?" Willow gazed at him expectantly.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said with a wry smile. "What has the coven learned?"

"Demons—big and ugly. Other dimension probably kinda unpleasant. Whatever they're looking for is something alive and they want it back."

"I see. So nothing that is of any use to the Slayers?"

She sighed. "Not so you'd notice, no. Except, if they could find what the demons want and give it to them…"

"And what are the chances that they are looking for the crippled vampire in Buffy's basement?"

Willow sighed again. "Pretty good, I think. Katrina said he looked like he'd been systematically tortured over a long period of time. She said she wasn't surprised that he couldn't or wouldn't remember; she thought most people would have gone insane from being hurt that much."

"Vampires are not people."

"No. I suppose not. Although with the soul…"

"Ah yes, the soul. And what was it about the soul that bothered you?"

"Well, when I read it, it looked like the soul of somebody who's dead… like dead and gone, you know? So I thought maybe his soul had been given to this vamp, and that's why Buffy didn't stake him and why he ended up at her house. But Katrina says the soul is with its rightful owner, so I guess I was wrong. It can't be his."

"Angel's?"

"No! Goddess, no. Spike's. It felt like Spike to me. But, you know, I only looked at Spike's that one time while he was crazy – just to see if he really did have one. It was a long time ago, and things were kind of… busy. So I guess I was wrong. Either that, or he is Spike and just doesn't know it."

"Surely Buffy would have recognized Spike?" Giles stared at her in clear disbelief.

"You'd think so, but this vamp… he's such a mess, Giles… no hair, scars everywhere, burned eyelids, burned vocal chords and other internal organs… I dunno. I don't think even Buffy could tell who he is unless he told her. And he doesn't know who he is either, so, there you go."

"But Katrina doesn't think it is Spike?"

"She doesn't know. She just knows that the soul belongs to the man – er, vamp – that has it. She never met Spike, so…"

"Have you shared any of this with Buffy?"

Willow shook her head. "No. I didn't want to say anything unless I knew for sure – and then Katrina said it wasn't his soul… And then the demons started showing up and we got too busy. She doesn't need to know that's what I thought. Not if I'm wrong."

"Agreed."

Spike was sitting on his bed, alternately flexing and stretching his arms when he heard tentative footsteps. He stood up and moved to the bottom of the stairs to find Dawn making her way down, cup in hand. She handed it to him, frowning when he sniffed it and recoiled.

"What the bloody hell?"

"Look. I know you. And I know Buffy. She's not going to give you up – even if she doesn't know you're you. And you aren't going to sit here letting her fight without you, so you need to speed up that healing. And pig blood isn't going to do get the job done fast enough."

They glared at each other, the year of estrangement and the lengthy gap in their relationship disappearing as they argued.

"This is your blood!"

"What? Is my blood not good enough for you? My blood is awesome. I'm made from Buffy, right? Plus, gazillion-year-old Key here. It's gonna be like Slayer-blood plus."

"You've lost your mind."

She sniffed. "Just drink it. I'd try to get you some other regular human blood today, but I'm going to be stuck at the school compound until this is over."

"I thought you were mad at me," he said as he raised the cup to his lips.

"I can be mad at you and still… lo—care about you," she said, dropping her gaze. "Just like Buffy can. You really, really need to tell her, Spike. Really."

He sighed. "I know, Bit. It's just…."

"There's no 'it's just.' It's what needs to happen. You do it, or I will. I'll give you the rest of today but if you haven't told her by tomorrow, I'm going to. She has a right to know."

"You're right, luv. I know that. Already feel like a bloody wanker for not telling her this morning, I just… Got nothing to offer her right now, do I? Can't fight, the sight of me makes her cringe… How am I making anything better by letting her know I'm me?"

"It's the right thing to do." Dawn turned away and went up the stairs, her voice drifting back to him. "And I know you still know how to do right."

It had been two more nights of street-to-street fighting between squads of slayers and the invading demons, and they were no closer to finding the portal through which the seemingly unending stream of demonic creatures was escaping. Buffy came home just before dawn, nursing a deep wound from a dirty claw, and a bruised back from having been thrown against a building.

There was no sign of Bob, so she continued through the kitchen and up to her own bathroom to shower off the sweat, blood, and inevitable gore that came with fighting things that bled disgusting colors and odors. She had just dried off and was laying out gauze and ointment for a bandage, when she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Bob?"

"Yeah, Slayer. Just wanted to know how you are. I smelled blood."

"Hold on. Let me get some clothes on…" She grabbed her pajamas and pulled them on quickly. Walking to the door, she opened it and looked up into worried eyes that were suddenly only too familiar. In spite of Dawn's threat, there had not yet been an opportunity for her to tell Buffy about Spike; but two more days of daily salve applications, as well as the constant gain of weight and muscle now going on, had made too many changes in Spike's appearance for him to keep up the charade. With Buffy standing in front of him, bleeding because of him, he didn't even try, saying softly, "Hello, Buffy."

"Oh my God," Buffy whispered, falling back into the room, her hand to her mouth. "Oh my God…" As he entered, tentatively, but with determination, she continued to back up, her eyes huge in her face. "Is it… are you really…" Moving too fast even for vampire vision, she grabbed his arm and squeezed. "Not the First, then."

"No, love. Not the first. And not 'Bob' anymore. Know who I am now, and why I'm here." He risked raising one hand to cup her cheek. "I'm so sorry I brought this on you. If I'd had any idea—"

"Dawn knew!" Buffy focused on the only thing she could be coherent about. "She knew. That's why she was hitting you." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm going to kill her." She flinched back from his hand. "How long have you two been keeping this from me? Did she know right away? Is that why you saved her? Because it was Dawn?"

"Ah, no, no, love." He dropped his hand when she recoiled from it. "I swear to you, Buffy. It only happened the night the demons came. I didn't know what to do, was still confused about what's real and what's not… Dawn figured it out before you got downstairs that morning; didn't give me a chance to explain before she went off on me. I asked her to let me tell you in my own time, but you've been so…" He stepped back and hung his head. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm as big a coward as ever when it comes to you. Should have told you straight away." He turned away, head down, shoulders slumped, and began to walk toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Her voice rose to a shriek as he disappeared from her line of sight. She ran to the door and turned to follow, only to crash into him as he hastened back. His hands automatically went to her shoulders to steady her when she rocked back from the collision. Buffy leaned forward, resting her head on his chest, her arms going around his waist and holding on so tightly that his only-recently-healed side began to throb. He ignored the pain, dropping his head to hers and burying his face in her hair while his arms went around her back.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry I was such an insecure bastard all those years ago, sorry I let myself get taken without having told you how much I still love you, sorry I brought all this destruction to your doorstep—"

"Shut up," she mumbled into his tee-shirt. "Just shut up and hold me."

They remained like that, standing together with their arms around each other until Spike felt Buffy's tears soaking his shirt. "Ah, love. Don't. Not worth it, am I? Shhh, Buffy." His own tears were now wetting her hair as he tried to quell the emotions rippling through him in response.

Eventually, her prior exhaustion returned and Buffy sniffled her way into some semblance of control. She leaned back and stared into the face she could now recognize, even under the still-disfiguring scars. "How did I not know?" she marveled, running her fingers lightly over his brow and cheeks. "How did I not know?"

"You didn't know, because I didn't know," he said, kissing the fingers now feeling his mostly healed lips. "How could you? Can't see it in a mirror, but I've got some idea what I look like. Can only imagine how much worse it was when you found me."

"You've got no idea how close you came to being staked…" She shuddered. "I could have killed you, and I would have never known... Oh God!" Her eyes welled up again, but she blinked the tears away. "Okay. Get a grip, Buffy. I didn't do it, so—"

"Almost wish you had, love," he said, brushing his fingers against the cut on her arm. "Don't want you anywhere near this hell-spawn."

"Don't say that!" she said fiercely. "Don't ever say that!"

"Buffy, you don't know what… " He shook his head and took a deep breath. "Alright, then. They're here. What can I do to help?"

Taking him at his word, she pulled away from him and backed into her room, falling into a fighting stance. "Show me what you've got," she ordered.

He blinked at her, then broke into a grin. "Ready when you are, Slayer."

"Just don't break my furniture," she said, snapping two quick punches at his face. He slid to the side and retaliated with a leg sweep, which threw him off balance when his bad leg didn't respond the way he'd hoped. He recovered before Buffy, whose back was still hurting, could take advantage. They exchanged blows, neither one really trying to do injury, until Buffy held up her hand for a break. The cut on her arm was beginning to bleed again, and Spike was favoring his injured leg.

"This would be a lot more fun if we weren't both hurt," she said, yawning. "I need some rest, and you need…." She looked at his anxious face and said, more gently, "And you need a couple more days. You're good," she said quickly when his eyes flashed yellow and he began to snarl. "But you're not what you should be."

"I'm good enough," he said. "And I'll be even better tomorrow. Not sending you back out there alone." Two sets of equally stubborn eyes battled for supremacy, until finally Buffy sighed and turned away.

"Let's get some sleep," she said. "We can fight about it again in the morning."

"We're not fighting. We're having a disagreement."

She just rolled her eyes, then dropped them, looking embarrassed. "I… do you wan—" She blew out her breath. "I'm exhausted and hurt, but now that I know who you are…" She glanced up. "I don't want you to go back to the basement. Can… will you stay here? With me?"

"Wasn't planning to go anywhere else. Not unless you made me."

Chapter Eleven

Buffy looked at her bleeding arm and back at Spike. Holding his gaze, she held it out. "No sense wasting this. Clean it up for me."

She watched his face as his craving for what she offered fought with his desire to refuse. When it began to look like his sense of what he had no right to might win, she walked over and held it up to his face. "Come on. This is no different than when you were hurt so badly by the First. I'm going to need you sooner or later, and I know you aren't going to stay out of it anyway, so I want you as close to healthy as I can get you."

"Only because it'll help make me whole," he insisted, ignoring her rolling eyes and lowering his mouth to her arm. He licked off the blood that had trickled down to her hand, then moved to the wound itself and began to suck gently. He glanced up at her to see if she was all right with the sucking and she nodded.

"For all I know, there's poison on those claws. Either way, they were filthy. Suck away."

In spite of her words, he kept his mouth fastened on her wound only long enough to be sure that there was no dirt or poison in it, then he stopped sucking and just licked until it had stopped bleeding.

"Bandage?"

Buffy tilted her head toward the bathroom and he walked in and picked up the supplies she had already set up. She stared hard as he walked to and from the small room, visibly trying not to limp. She held out her arm and, without comment, he smeared antibiotic cream on it, covered it with a gauze pad held in place with an elastic bandage. When he'd tucked the ends in, he sighed and looked at her.

"My turn, yeah? To take care of you, I mean," he hastened to add.

She just shook her head and turned out the light, climbing into the big bed and holding the covers up for him. Moving hesitantly, as if expecting her to change her mind any second, he got in beside her and settled on his back, extending one arm out. As if the years since they'd last shared a bed had never elapsed, Buffy settled against him, her head on his chest and one arm across his body. She started to throw one leg over his, pulling it back when he flinched.

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot…"

"Slayer… Buffy… if you had any idea how often I've dreamed of holding you like this again…." He sighed. "You'd know how unnecessary that apology is."

She nodded against his chest, saying, "You'd probably be surprised to know how well I get that…. I just don't want to hurt you." When he squeezed her a little too tightly, she hissed, "Speaking of hurting…" He relaxed his arm immediately.

"You're hurt somewhere else? What's wrong?"

"Got slammed into a wall by something that looked like an octopus on steroids. My back is bruised. It'll probably be fine by tomorrow, but right now…"

He started to let her go and shifted away. "Maybe we need to leave the happy reunion cuddling until we're both uninjured."

"No!" She tightened her grip on his torso, but kept her leg away from his. "We can cuddle. We just have to be… gentle."

"I can do that, love," he said resting his arms lightly around her again. "I can do gentle."

"You probably do it better than I do," she mumbled, her voice trailing off as her eyes shut and she fell asleep.

Spike was able to remain awake, enjoying her presence, for only a few more minutes before his own eyes shut and fell into a restorative sleep while slayer blood worked its way through his body.

It was well after noon before the diffused light in the room awakened them. Buffy found herself on her side, with Spike spooning her from behind. "Morning, love," he said, brushing his lips over her hair.

"Seriously?" she said as she pushed back against the object poking her in the rear. "I've got a bad back, and this is all you can think about?"

He gave a soft laugh and hugged her before rolling over onto his back and away from her body. "It's just morning wood, love. It'll go away all by itself if I get it away from your luscious arse. Nothing for you to worry about."

"I wasn't worried… just… we haven't seen each other in so long, and there are demons, and—"

"And I look like a nightmare. It's alright, Buffy. Not expecting—"

"It has nothing to do with how you look! How can you think that?" She sat up and stared at him, her expression flickering between anger and pain. "Is that what you think of me? That I wouldn't want you with a few scars? That I wouldn't still…."

"I've seen you flinch, love. Seen the disgust on your face. It's alright. I'm—"

"You're an idiot!" she snapped. "If you've seen me flinch, it was because of the pain I knew caused those scars. And if you saw disgust, it was probably because I was disgusted with myself for letting you see my reaction. And that was when I thought you were just some random vampire. Do you really think I can't look past a few scars to the man I…."

She threw her hands in the air and got out of bed. "I'm hurt. You're hurt. We have demons to fight later tonight. And we need to get to know each other again. Last night was… nice. It felt right. But being us again is going to take more than just being happy to see each other." She glared at him. "And we don't have the time for it now!"

He cocked his head at her and smiled. Buffy blinked in surprise. "Why are you smiling? I'm yelling at you!"

"I know," he said, standing up and walking around the bed to push a stray hair away from her mouth. "And you don't know how much I've missed it. Now it feels like I'm really home."

She tried to continue glaring, but finally gave in to the way her mouth kept twitching. She smiled and shook her head. "You are really home," she said, "in case you haven't noticed. And you're twisted."

He just raised one eyebrow at her and laughed. "Always have been, love. You used to like that."

Buffy flushed, turning away. "Then we're both weird."

"So, what's the plan for the day, Slayer?"

"Wake up, eat food, go to the school and see if we know anything more about where these guys are coming from." She looked up at him. "I don't suppose you could help us out there?"

He shook his head. "Wish I could, love, but got no idea where I was or how I got there. Took Blue all this time to find me and get me out."

"Blue?"

His face clouded. "You remember that sweet little girl that worked with Angel's crew? Fred?" Buffy frowned and nodded. "I think so. I think we met her when we stopped there after… I think Willow knows her."

"Not anymore she doesn't," he said with a growl. "Wouldn't come to help – or wasn't told we needed it. Not clear on that; all I know is Angel asked for some assistance when that Old One started taking over Fred's body, and he was told to stuff it."

"I don't… why didn't I hear about that? No one told me Angel called. Or that he needed help." She glared at him. "Of course, no one told me you were there, either…"

"I can grovel about that for the rest of our lives, Buffy. Point is, things between the Council and LA weren't good that last year; and Fred paid the price. Blue is what I call the Old One that took her place. Real name's Illyria. She's not Fred, but she did manage to become a part of the group. Hell of a fighter, even if we did have to take away a lot of her power to keep her from exploding and taking LA with her…"

"So that's how you got out? This… Blue… or Illyria did it? How? And where can we find her?"

"Dunno, love." He tried not to stare as Buffy began pulling clothes from drawers and seemed to be about to change right in front of him. "Remember her showing up and breaking me out – I think that dragon got his wings clipped pretty good… but I don't remember anything about her bringing me here." He stopped and swallowed hard. "Uh, Buffy? That morning wood? If you don't want to be looking at it all day," he gestured at the tent in front of his sweatpants, "I'd probably best take myself out of here before you start changing clothes."

She blushed and let go of the pajama top she'd been about to strip off over her head. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking about…."

"I'll just go," he said, turning to leave. "Get the coffee started, or something..."

When the sound of his footsteps had faded, Buffy quickly changed into something suitable for a day of researching that could easily segue into a night of fighting. She went down to the kitchen to find that he'd been as good as his word and the coffee pot was already perking away.

"How are you this morning?" she asked as she fixed a bowl of cereal.

He stood up and hopped on his bad leg, stumbling into the counter after the third hop. "Better," he growled, "but not 100% yet." When Buffy looked disappointed, he added, "Haven't eaten yet, and I've got the rest of the afternoon. I'll be ready by tonight. I promise you."

She sighed. "I know you want to help, Spike. But think about this from my point of view: right now we're just fighting random demons as we find them. If you show up, they're going to swarm us trying to get to you." Her eyes flew to his. "I'm not letting you go back there." He met and held her steady gaze, understanding clearly what she was leaving unsaid.

"If it comes to that, love, I wouldn't expect any less of you."

"Don't make me do it," she said, dropping her eyes to hide the sudden moisture there. "Don't make me have to do it."

"Not planning to, Slayer. You tell me where and when you want me. I promise not to do anything stupid."

"Ha! We both know that's a lie," she said, giving him a shaky smile.

"If that weren't so true, I'd prob'ly be offended."

Buffy stood up, draining her cup and putting it in the sink. "Okay, I'm off to see what's what. I'll try to find time to bring you something else to wear, 'k?"

He looked down at his baggy sweatpants and bare feet. "I'd appreciate that, pet. Not exactly dressed for fighting, am I?"

"You're not dressed for appearing in public," she said, pointing to the front of his pants. "Not unless you're going to put that thing away."

He laughed. "It'll go away when you do. Or, if it doesn't, I'll just go up in your bed and have a good wank."

She looked horrified. "Is that what you've been doing every day while I'm not here?"

"Relax, Slayer. Get that 'you're going to be dust any second' look off your face. I was just joshing you. I admit, I've spent some time laying there, just smelling the sheets, but old Bob had too much respect for you to do anything like that in your bed, and I…"

"And you what?"

"And I was too busy marveling over the fact that you were living in my house and sleeping in my bed to even think about it. Had enough to do wondering how I was going to tell you that I'm me."

"That's your bed?"

"Was. Well over 130 years ago, mind, but yes. For much of my life as a human, that was my bed. And my bedroom," he added.

"Huh. Well, you let me know if you want it back."

"It's yours, love. All bought and paid for. All I want is to be allowed to share it from time to time." When she glared at him, he hastened to add, "But that's a talk for another day. We've got demons to kill today. Grrrr, argh!"

"Nice save," she muttered. "I've got to get out of here or the whole day is—"

They both heard the key in the look and turned to stare at the kitchen door. Which opened to admit a tall man carrying a large duffle bag.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Suddenly Spike remembered the familiar scent from the other upstairs bedroom and began to growl. Buffy put a restraining hand on his arm, saying, "Hi, Xander. I wasn't expecting you till next week."

Keeping his gaze on the growling vampire and trying to hide his initial reaction to Spike's appearance, Xander said, "I heard you had a problem, so I hurried it up a little. Relax, Fangface. It was just a little I'm-back-in-London humor."

"You know who he is?" Buffy's expression said she was seriously rethinking her ability to identify people.

"Went by the compound before I came here," he said. "Talked to Dawn. She warned me." He walked up to Spike and looked into his face. "Bald is a nice look for you," he said, grinning. He waited for Spike to acknowledge the male bonding ritual, then stuck out his hand. "Welcome back to the land of the living… so to speak."

Not to be outdone, Spike replied, "Thought they'd sent you off to the wilds of Africa where you couldn't be a pain in anyone's arse?" He shook Xander's hand. They cleared their throats and backed away, manly amenities dispensed with.

"I suppose this means it's safe for me to leave. You two aren't going to try to kill each other or something?"

They each muttered something that sounded like agreement and she left through the same door Xander had entered, saying that she'd be back before dark.

When the door had closed behind her, Spike indicated the coffee pot.

"Coffee?"

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon!"

"Well, we just got up. It's morning for us." Spike took some blood from the refrigerator and poured it into a mug, adding enough coffee to warm it up.

"We just got up?" Xander's eyebrows were meeting his hairline.

"It's not like that. Just… was a rough night. Slayer was hurt, didn't get home till almost dawn, and then had to deal with finding out the stray vamp she's been sheltering is both somebody she… knows… and the reason the demons are here."

"So you and she… you're not… "

"Don't know what we are," Spike said, taking his mug from the microwave and putting it to his lips. "We're not going to worry about it until we get rid of the hell hounds." He raised a scarred eyebrow at Xander. "What about you? How long have you been living here?"

"I don't live here. It's just a place to stay when I'm in town that isn't full of hormonal teenage girls with more strength than is good for them. I have my own room upstairs – down the hall from Dawn and Buffy's." They drank in silence for a few minutes, then, "So, where do you live?"

Spike nodded his head toward the basement stairs. "My usual place. Back to being the cellar-dweller."

"Works for me." At the rumble Spike couldn't contain, Xander laughed. "Chill out, Spike. I got over thinking I had any place in Buffy's life other than old friend and handyman a long time ago. It worried the hell out of me at first when she bought this place. I was afraid she was just going to stay here and wallow, but she didn't. She hasn't exactly moved on, but she hasn't spent her time reliving the past, either. After all," he said with a sly glance at Spike's face, "Angel's been dead for years. There's no reason for her to—"

"Ha, bloody, ha," Spike snarled. "Not funny, Harris."

"Yes, it was. You should have seen your face."

"I'm glad I can't see my face," Spike said, standing up and taking his cup to the sink. "Just wish Buffy didn't have to look at it. I'll be downstairs. Make yourself at home."

Xander stared after him. "I think Buffy's made of tougher stuff than you think she is," he whispered to the door Spike had shut behind him.

Buffy walked into Giles's office, unannounced, saying, "When this is over, we're going to have a long talk about people asking us for help and being told they're on their own." He looked up from where he'd been looking at something with Willow and frowned. "I don't… ah, so your vampire has recovered his memories then?"

"Yes," Buffy said shortly. "It's Spike…" She looked at Willow. "That's what you thought you saw, isn't it? Spike's soul?" Willow nodded. "It's Spike. Those things have been torturing him since it all went south in LA. This Illyria, whatever she is, rescued him and apparently dumped him on my doorstep. Would have been nice if she'd attached a note or something to tell me who he was."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not even sure who I'm maddest at. You, for keeping things from me, Spike and Angel for also keeping things from me – even when they needed my help, or the Senior Partners for unleashing these things and letting them take Spike back to their dimension. Anyway, what do we know?"

"We found the portal," Willow said eagerly. "It's not too far from the city, so, if we're in place tonight when it opens again, maybe we can keep them from coming through."

"And by 'we' you mean the slayers?"

"Well, yeah. But with backup from the Coven. We're going to try some spells to see if we can close it up and keep it closed."

"Sounds like a plan. Where and when?" As soon as Willow had told her where they needed to be, Buffy nodded and left the room without saying another word to Giles.

"Is she saying that Angel asked for help, and you didn't tell anybody? Why did he need help? With what?" She thought for a second, then remembered what had happened to her friend. "Illyria? He called you when the Old One was trying to kill Fred, and you didn't tell anybody?"

"He was working for the ultimate in evil, Willow." Giles rubbed his forehead. "I made the best decision I could make at the time. We didn't trust him. Buffy didn't trust him. There seemed no reason to tell anyone he had called."

"Uh huh. I've got to go. Witches to round up and spells to practice…"

Willow left the office, leaving an aging watcher to contemplate the ways in which he'd let down the people who depended upon him.

Chapter Twelve

Once Buffy had spoken to her squad leaders and made sure they knew where to be when, she hurried home, stopping only to buy a cheap pair of black jeans. She chose some made with stretchy fabric, knowing Spike would be incensed, but that anything that didn't impede his motion – the way stiff, new denim would – couldn't be anything but a plus. On an impulse, she grabbed a pair of work shoes with reinforced toes, socks and a leather coat that was on sale. Forgoing the amusement that bringing home unwanted underwear would have provided, she hastened out of the store and down the street, casting an eye at the already darkening sky.

She entered the kitchen to find Spike and Xander arm-wrestling on the table. As soon as he saw her, Spike pinned Xander and stood up expectantly.

"Did you see that, Buffy? Told you I'd be fine by tonight."

"Want to try that with me instead of a very strong, but perfectly normal human?"

"Spoil sport," he muttered, eyeing the bags. "What've you got there?"

Buffy tossed the bags to him. "Jeans that will allow you to move – so I don't want to hear any complaining about how 'poncy' they are – socks and shoes, and a coat to deflect fire or claws or whatever. Go get dressed."

While Spike disappeared downstairs, Buffy rooted through the refrigerator for something to eat, settling on yogurt and left over pizza.

"Did he eat today?" she asked around mouthfuls of cold pizza. She shoved the box toward Xander.

"Yeah. He chugged his piggy blood like a good little vampire. So what's the deal, Buffy? Is he moving in?"

"Not going to worry about that until we know he isn't going to be carried off back to wherever they did this to him. Nothing's changed from when we didn't know who he was, except that now we know. I wasn't kicking him out then, and I'm not going to do it now."

Xander nodded. "Well, you'll let me know if I'm in the way. I can stay somewhere else."

"That is so… understanding… and completely unnecessary. Even if we—which we so aren't! —you'd still be welcome to stay here when you need to."

Xander nodded and changed the subject. "So, what did you learn today? Do we have a spectacular new demon-fighting weapon?"

"I wish! Kinda wondering why we didn't bring that rocket launcher with us when we left Sunnydale… But, we do know where the portal is going to open, and the Coven's going to help us try to keep them from coming through." She looked up as Spike, now wearing his new jeans, a tee-shirt and shoes for the first time since Buffy'd removed his battered boots, came into the room.

"Not one word," he warned as Xander eyed the very tight-fitting and obviously very stretchy jeans.

"Oh come on. Be fair. Not even one?"

"Not unless you want me to feed you your own liver," Spike growled, going to the refrigerator for more blood.

Buffy glared her own warning at Xander, who sighed and nodded. "Fine. No commenting on the vampire's jeggings…." Even as she sputtered, "Xander!" Buffy couldn't prevent her own giggle. She shrugged apologetically when Spike – who understood the meaning, if not the terminology – gave her a lethal stare that promised imminent retribution. She got up and walked over to where he was growling at the microwave.

Resting one hand on his back, she went up on her toes and whispered, "They make your butt look awesome. He's just jealous, that's all." The growl turned into a snort, but Spike's tense posture relaxed.

Without lowering his own voice, he said, "He just doesn't want to admit that he's staring at my arse. " Satisfied with the unusual purple color Xander was turning, he carried his mug back to the table and sat down in the chair next to Buffy's.

"So, what's the plan?"

"You heard me tell Xander about the portal, right?" He nodded, and she went on. "We're going to set up two slayer fronts – one right in front of the portal, and one to protect the Coven's spell casters."

"Where do you want me?" When Buffy hesitated, he began to growl again, his eyes flashing to yellow and back to blue. "I'm not going to hide, Slayer! I won't be pushed behind some wall of little girls like something too weak or special to—"

"You are special," she murmured. "To me, anyway. And apparently to them. If you're where they can see you and get to you, they might be able to grab you before I—we—can do anything about it." She stared into his eyes. "Don't ask me to watch you sacrifice yourself again."

"Could say the same thing, love," he answered, his demon banished as he basked in her unconcealed concern and affection. "You can't expect me to stand by and watch you risk your life for me." He ran one hand down her cheek, smiling when she leaned into it and turned her head to kiss his palm.

"Okay. Enough of this stuff – I just ate, you know." Xander stood up, pizza in hand and waved at them. "I'm going to collect some manly weapons. Please be ready to go kill things by the time I get back." He ignored the faces Buffy and Spike were making at him as he left the room and went to the weapon chest in the living room.

"Xander, bring my scythe back with you, please," Buffy said. "I've got a feeling I might need it tonight."

As they approached the deserted industrial park where the Coven had determined the portal was going to open, Buffy looked up to where Willow and her chosen group of witches were standing on the open deck of a parking garage. Buffy pointed to them, instructing Xander, "Why don't you join the slayers up there?" She gestured to the various shotguns and other weapons he had strapped around his body. "It looks like a good spot for you to pick off anything trying to come through the portal. The fewer that make it out, the less fighting we'll have to do."

"Makes sense to me." He nodded and veered off, pausing when Buffy went to talk to the squad leaders lining up around the cul-de-sac. He walked back to Spike. "Whenever you start feeling stupid, remember what it will do to her if she has to watch you die again. Or – probably worse from her point of view – if she can't keep you from getting carried back to where you've been having such a good time these past few years…."

"I know, I know. Gonna do my best to be smart about it."

"Well, that's already got failure written all over it… "

"Go on, Harris. Find a nice safe spot to shoot things from. I'm not going to do anything to hurt her."

"Yeah, says the guy who keeps dying and disappearing…." He gestured from his eye to Spike's. "I'll be watching you, buddy."

There was no response as Spike turned to watch Buffy walk back to him. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked more uncomfortable by the second.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Jus' don't know what to do, do I? Want to be near you, watching your back, but if I do that, it might draw more trouble to you. If I'm far away, back here, I won't be able to help—"

"Let's just play it by ear, 'k?" she said softly, touching his face and running her thumb over one of the scars. "If they don't see you, it's better for the rest of us. If they do spot you, then we'll probably need the help." She held out her hand in which she held a sword. "Here. The girls thought this would be a good one for you."

He glanced over to the squad of girls watching them while pretending not to. "Are those the little bints that wanted to off me so badly they ended up tripping each other?"

"Yeah. I think I finally convinced them that running in to you was one of the best things that could have happened to them. Now that they know who you are, they finally believe me." She laughed as she watched him move the sword around, testing it. "Now they're going around bragging how they fought William the Bloody and survived it."

"Does that mean I can say I fought six slayers at one time and kicked their arses?" He was saluting the girls when he caught Gill's eye. He rubbed his ribs and gave her a thumbs up, laughing when she blushed and looked away.

"Okay, enough with distracting the teenyboppers. Looks like it's showtime…"

They both watched as the small bright spot in the air began to pulse and grow. The slayers spread themselves into a line and faced the space, weapons in hand. It was almost anticlimactic when the first demon came through, as he exploded almost as soon as he appeared, victim of a well-thrown hand grenade.

"Bringing the slayers' weapons into the 20th century, aren't you?" Spike said. "Got any plans to move past World War II armaments?"

"Watch and learn," she said, beginning to walk toward the line of slayers. "From here. Please," she added when he moved as if to follow her. "Just do this for me. Don't put yourself out there unless we have no choice."

"Buffy…."

"I'll be back," she said, whirling and running back to him. She reached up, grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him until he relented and began to return the kiss, holding her against his body and growling as he felt her melting against him. Sounds of battle from behind Buffy made her wrench herself away. "I'll be back," she repeated as she turned and ran toward the portal. "I'll be back. You be here!"

He stood, leaning on the sword while the slayers battled at the edge of the portal, trying to keep the demons from coming through. Their small supply of hand grenades had been exhausted, and they were back to fighting in the usual way against the new demons climbing over the body parts at the portal entrance.

Spike could hear the witches up on the parking garage roof, chanting and filling the air with magic. In spite of their best efforts, it didn't seem to be having much of an effect on the portal. It remained open, if too small for more than a few demons at a time to emerge. Keeping it small seemed to be the best they could do, and the fight continued to be confined mostly to the area right in front of the portal. Occasionally a small group of demons would work together to burst through and overwhelm the slayers immediately in front of them. They rarely made it more than a short distance away as the well-trained slayers split into a front line and a rear guard, catching up to the escaping creatures and attacking them from behind. But the need to pursue them did begin to isolate the slayers from their companions, and the portal became less well-guarded.

With the apparently unending numbers of disposable demons being sent through the portal, the gradual spread of fighting was inevitable and self-renewing. The more slayers who were drawn away from the portal, the more of the demon soldiers could come through at one time. Slowly, but surely, their numbers continued to increase, in spite of the certain death awaiting them from the slayers that greeted their arrival.

Spike was so busy trying to keep track of Buffy as she laid waste with her scythe and admiring the discipline of the slayers under her command that he almost missed the seven feet of scaled death that had made its way to the isolated spot he'd chosen to stand in. His instincts, however, had not deserted him, and he was sheltered on two sides, forcing the demon to approach in a way that allowed Spike to catch him from the corner of his eye.

The demon stopped, studying the scarred vampire now facing him, sword at the ready. Instead of attacking, he turned and shouted something in a garbled demon tongue that Spike recognized as something he'd heard too much of in the past several years. One leap into the air and a swipe of the sword removed the demon's head, and for a few blissful seconds Spike thought maybe he had been in time.

The way the entire focus of the battle shifted told him it was a vain hope, and he braced himself for the coming onslaught. He was too busy fighting off creatures more interested in capturing him than killing him to notice what else was going on, until he found himself pinned between two more of the tall, scaly demons. He was just beginning to worry when the one on the left was gone, lying in two pieces on the ground, and Buffy was using her scythe to hack off the legs of the one holding his right arm. Spike brought his sword across and removed demon's head, dropping it at Buffy's feet. She grinned at him and turned back to the fray.

Spike threw himself back into the fight with a delight totally inappropriate for the situation, but impossible to deny now that he was on Buffy's left as she used her scythe to hold back the hordes trying to reach them. They fought with a joy and ferocity that kept their area clear and allowed the other slayers to attack the single-minded demons from the rear, causing large amounts of damage and systematically whittling down the number of attackers. Although obviously dangerously lethal, the attacking demon soldiers did not seem to be very bright as they focused entirely on reaching Spike, paying no attention to the slayers decimating their ranks.

The loud clap of thunder as the portal popped open all the way caught everyone – including the demons – by surprise. They threw themselves on the ground, murmuring in their language and prostrating themselves in front of the creature looming in the portal.

"Oh shit," Buffy said, hefting the scythe. "That's the thing that tried to break my back." Even the slayers, now that their opponents were busy bowing down to the new arrival, stopped and stared. The creature in the opening, twenty-five feet tall if it was an inch, was made of pulsing, green slime and sharp spines. It had several short tentacles near its head, and three very long, powerful ones coming from its torso. A fourth tentacle ended in a stump some distance from the body. It stood on relatively short, but extremely thick legs that ended in feet with taloned toes. Its eyes were the size of dinner plates, and they took only a few seconds to locate Spike.

"Incoming, love," he said. "Which side do you want?"

"If he gets this far, I'm going to remove the other three tentacles," she said. "But watch first… "

Buffy waved to the girls on the garage, trying not to worry about the dazed witches she could see lying around them. The girls ran to the other side, coming back with a catapult.

"A trebuchet? You're going to fight Godzilla with a bloody medieval war machine?"

Buffy ignored him and watched intently as Xander and a small group of girls placed a large, round object on the machine. Without wasted effort or speech, it was launched directly into the portal, hitting the demon in its mid-section. There was a split second of silence, then the world filled with a roar and bits of demon-parts. When the air cleared, the slayers sent up a cheer and began to high-five each other.

"Didn't teach them not to gloat, did you, pet?" Spike said, as he fended off the first of the smaller demons to recover and renew the attack.

"Left that for you," she grunted, slicing her way through another attacker. "Guess I shouldn't have waited."

Worried about hitting a slayer now that the opened portal was allowing through far larger numbers of demons and escalating the furious hand-to-hand combat, Xander had stopped trying to shoot from his perch above the battleground. After assuring himself that Willow and her fellow witches had only been stunned by the magic blast that blew open the portal, he had set himself in front of them and stayed busy picking off any stray demons that made it past the small squad of slayers left on guard. The rest of the garage roof slayers had long since joined their sisters on the ground in the battle going on there.

Buffy slipped and slid in the gore now coating a rather large and growing area, as the battle became even more fierce than before—the original combatants, outraged over the destruction of their overlord, still eager to recapture Spike. When Spike's bad leg buckled and he went down under a pile of triumphant scaly enemies, Buffy's scream was barely audible over the uproar of multitudes of individual battles.

She was doing her best to fight her way to him, fearful of swinging the scythe into the pile of struggling bodies, when suddenly the pile became noticeably smaller. She glanced up as a large body was rather effortlessly thrown back through the portal and saw a strange woman with blue hair and body armor.

"Illyria?"

"They may not have him back," the woman replied, her tone clearly implying that Buffy was not doing her job properly. "He should not be here."

"I tried to tell him that," Buffy snapped, pulling the last demon off and removing its head in almost the same motion.

"He can be very disobedient," Illyria said, yanking Spike to his feet and shaking him.

"It's good to see you, too, your godship," Spike gasped, holding his side and trying to hide it at the same time. "Don't think I've had time to thank you for—"

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by another loud pop. Everyone, demons and slayers, looked up to find three more of the giant demonic creatures emerging from the portal; several more appeared to be waiting behind them.

Once again, the few lesser demons still standing threw themselves on the ground in obeisance, whereupon the slayers quickly decapitated them before retreating in the face of the frightening beings stalking through them. The new arrivals brushed the slayers aside at first, pausing to fling one away only if she actually inflicted an injury that caught the creature's attention. Not until they realized the small warriors were trying to keep them from their goal did they attempt to engage them in serious combat.

Buffy had only seconds to admire the discipline and creativity the slayers were showing as they used their smaller size and quickness to dart in and out, inflicting what damage they could. She soon had to turn her attention to the leader now making its way directly for them. It paid no attention to the two women standing between it and Spike until Illyria gave a snarl and leapt, grabbing one tentacle and hurling it to the ground. She stood triumphantly on its torso for only a second; just long enough for the creature to use one of its powerful tentacles to pluck her off and throw her against the side of the garage, where she remained still, lying on the pavement below the dent her body had made in the concrete.

"Blue!" Spike started toward her, halting when Buffy yanked him back. She pointed at the large demon, now on its feet and striding toward them.

"I don't know about you, but I've already been thrown against a wall. I'd just as soon not go there again." Darting forward, Buffy managed to slice off one of the long tentacles before she slipped and fell right in front of a large, taloned foot. The demon gave a booming laugh and raised its leg, only to find Spike running to the opposite side, hacking at its legs with his sword and screaming, "Look here, you piece of green shit! Is this what you want? Come and get it!"

He backed away, luring the demon from Buffy's body. The other two creatures immediately stopped their assault on the slayers and began striding toward the sword-waving vampire.

"That's right, you bleeding piles of hell-spawn. Here's what you want."

Buffy sat up, shaking her head, and watching in horror as Spike stood his ground, waiting for the demons to reach him.

"No!"

She scrabbled in place, trying to get to her feet and find her scythe. She was just staggering in the direction of what was undoubtedly going to be a very short battle, when Illyria flew past her.

"Wait here," she said. "I tire of this."

Buffy ignored her orders, arriving just in time to see Illyria morph into the slender, brown-haired girl Buffy had a vague memory of meeting years ago. The girl looked at Spike, saying, "It's past time for me to leave this place. Take care of yourself, Spike." She leaned in and gave him a brief hug before reverting to her familiar form.

"What are you—don't, pet. Even you can't handle—"

"I am finished here," Illyria said. "I require you to move away now." She began to shimmer and quiver, causing Buffy to grab Spike's arm.

"Let's go."

Dragging an unwilling Spike, Buffy moved away from where the slender blue figure was facing off against three huge creatures that were gnashing their teeth and waving their powerful tentacles around. Even as they watched, her body began to swell and change. There was a moment of confusing motion, then Illyria was gone and in her place was a creature more than twice the size of those facing her, with a much larger mouth, more tentacles and a voice that shook the nearby buildings.

"You are done here!" she roared, picking up the first demon and throwing him bodily through the portal. "We are all done with this world." She advanced upon the remaining two demons that were gaping at her in disbelief. "You will worship me as I deserve, inferior beings. Let us begin now."

She knocked them to their knees, put a tentacle on each one's head and forced it to the ground. "That is better. We will practice." Without so much as a final glance at Spike, Illyria threw her two new minions through the portal, stepped in and pulled it shut behind her.

Chapter Thirteen

The silence left behind lasted only as long as it took for the slayers to snap out of their shock and start babbling. In front of their eyes, the dead demons and the gore and ichor began to dissolve into liquid that then turned to smoke and wafted away. While everyone looked on with open mouths, they were soon standing in an area that showed no signs of the recent activities except a rudely-constructed trebuchet on the roof of the garage, some ruined landscaping, and dented concrete on one of the lower walls.

"Let's go!" Buffy shouted as the sound of approaching sirens reached them. The uninjured slayers began to fade away into the shadows, moving with super speed to get as far away as they could before the emergency vehicles arrived. Willow and the other witches jumped into one of the two vans carrying injured or dead slayers, throwing temporary glamours around them. With Xander and a watcher driving, both vans were safely away, having passed only one police car as they hurried back to the Council compound.

Spike and Buffy watched from the roof of one of the buildings. They'd easily dodged the night watchman, who was now busy waving his arms around and telling the police about bright lights, monsters, screams, and disappearing holes in the air. "I'd feel sorry for him if this wasn't so funny," Spike said, leaning heavily on the sword, using it as a crutch.

In spite of trying for a disapproving look, Buffy had to giggle. "Yeah. He's going to be regretting that phone call for a long time."

By unspoken agreement, they had waited, hidden on the roof, just to be sure nothing scaly and deadly had survived the slayers and missed the trip back through the portal. Spike was leaning on the sword, trying not to look as exhausted and beat up as he really was. Buffy, although in better shape than the vampire she was watching carefully when she thought he wouldn't notice, was also tired and bruised. She was very grateful when she saw that not only were there no demons visible anywhere, but that at least one of the police vehicles contained armed men.

"Okay," she said after they'd watched for several minutes. "I think they'll be fine without us hovering. Let's go."

They quickly went down the fire stairs and out the door Spike had opened while the watchman was distracted, wondering where all the bodies had gone and how he was going to justify his frantic emergency call. Buffy tried to watch Spike's limping progress without letting on she was monitoring it. They spotted one lesser demon, making its way back to the vicinity of the portal, nodding when the distant sound of gunshots indicated it was not likely to be a problem any more.

"Awww. Now the watchman won't be fired for dreaming it all up," Buffy said. She'd taken her eyes off Spike to stop and listen to the reception the stray demon got. "He'll just have to explain how one dissolving monster did all the stuff he was describing."

"Buffy?" Spike's voice was much softer than she expected and she whirled to find him swaying on his feet. "I think I might need to sit for a bit…." Her arm was under his shoulder before he could hit the ground, and she lowered him gently. "Sorry, love. I'd say you were right and I wasn't ready, but then you'd be trying to tell me what to do all the bloody time."

She snorted. "And we both know how well that works." She sighed and sat down beside him. "I'm not all that gung ho about carrying you all the way home. We should have thought of this before and stashed a car somewhere." She pulled out her phone and dialed the Council offices, surprised when Giles answered the phone himself.

"Where are you?" he said. "The girls are back, Willow's back, but no one seems to know what happened to the two of you."

"We hung out for a while just in case, but it looks like I might have overestimated our stamina. Any chance you can send somebody to pick us up? I think we're near…" She looked around. "Some kind of stadium."

"Check your phone." Xander's voice came on the line. "It'll tell you exactly where you are."

"Oh yeah, hold on." Buffy checked her location, rattled off the nearest streets and hung up after being assured someone would be there soon. She sank back against the wall Spike was leaning on and put her head on his shoulder.

"Your friend, Illyria, is pretty interesting…" she said. "Was that her real body?"

"Got no idea, love. May have been. Her world or time was a pretty nasty place, as I understand it – and she was one of the head nasties. Should be right up her alley – lots of violence, ugly things to worship her. I hope she's happy there."

"Is she a she?" Buffy lifted her head and glanced at his profile, watching him frown in thought.

"Buggered if I know. I don't know if the Old Ones had sexes. They just are. But since she was wearing Fred's body, we just called her 'she' all the time. Can't say she ever complained about it."

"I think she had a little thing for you," Buffy said, bumping his shoulder. "Should I be jealous?"

He snorted and bumped her back. "Can't help it if I'm irresistible, Slayer. But you know I'm a one-woman man. Always have been."

"Good thing for you," she said, putting her head back on his shoulder.

"Not stupid, love. Know when I've got it good, don't I?"

They waited in comfortable silence until one of the Council's vans pulled up. Buffy pushed herself to her feet and extended a hand to Spike who willingly allowed her to help him up. He continued to lean on the sword as he walked to the car under her watchful eye, but without assistance. Once they were in, she said, "I could have helped, you know."

"Could have. Didn't need to. You're about as tired and beat up as I am, Slayer. Admit it."

"I'll admit I could use a hot bath and about two days' of sleep," she said. "That's all I'm admitting to."

"Forgot you had someone with you who can smell blood and sense weakness?"

"Ewwww! Thanks for that reminder, Spike."

She shook her head at him and leaned forward to thank the driver who had delivered them to her front door. The short walk from the street was a contest to see who could appear the least injured – a contest which Buffy won as she was able to navigate without relying on her weapon for support. Putting her key into the lock, she opened it, waited for Spike to limp in, and locked it behind them.

By mutual agreement, they went only as far as the couch before collapsing together in a heap of exhausted supernatural strength. In the dim glow coming from the kitchen, they were soon asleep while their bodies began the mending and recovery process.

Hours later, Buffy awoke, temporarily disoriented at finding herself in the living room with a man wrapped around her. It took only a few seconds for memory to return and she snuggled into Spike, preparing to doze for a while longer.

"Are you awake?"

"Trying not to be," she mumbled, keeping her head buried against his chest. She felt it shake with laughter and resigned herself to being up for at least long enough to go to bed. "But I am."

"As nice as this is, just lying here with you in my arms, I think we'd both be better off if we did something to repair the damage."

"I guess you're right," she sighed, poking him when he pretended to be surprised. "Let's get you some more blood, and I'm going to get into a hot bath."

"You need to eat too," he said. "Don't think I don't know you did all that tonight on yogurt and leftover pizza."

"Pizza is the new super food," she said, sitting up and stretching. "But you need blood, and I really need that bath." She got up and held out her hand for him.

"Stop tryin' to help me," he grumbled, even as he allowed her to pull him to his feet. They were both glad he had when his bad leg buckled under him. Buffy was able to keep him from falling, and she put his arm around her shoulders.

"Let's go. As soon as you've got some blood, I'm going to get something for you."

They made their way to the kitchen and Buffy led him to a stool. "Just stay there," she said as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out the last container of blood. "Guess I need to go shopping again. This is the last of it."

"This isn't right," he muttered. "Should be taking care of myself, or taking care of you, not letting you keep me."

"You can owe me," she said as she watched the microwave. "I'll start running a tab."

"Gonna hold you to that, Slayer."

"Uh huh. You do that." She set the cup in front of him and said, "Drink up. I'll be right back."

She ran out of the room before he could ask where she was going, so he shrugged and began sipping his blood, trying to make it last. He could hear her footsteps as she ran up to the next floor, frowning when they continued on to the third floor, and then to the attic. He could hear her rustling around up there, then her footsteps as she made her way back down, using the back stairs this time and popping out into the kitchen.

"Here, I knew I remember seeing this." She proudly held out an old wooden cane that, cleaned up and polished, would probably have been worth a lot of money. Spike just stared at it for several minutes, then held out a trembling hand.

"This was my father's," he said, awe in his voice. "I knew my mum kept it for a long time, but had no idea it was still around. Just assumed it was long gone along with everything else."

Buffy shook her head. "There's a bunch of stuff up in the attic. I guess your relatives didn't want to be bothered going through it, and none of the renters were willing to walk all the way up there."

Spike turned the cane over in his hands, thumping it on the floor and smiling. He reached back and pulled a dishtowel off the sink, beginning to rub the wood until a beautiful warm color emerged. He glanced up at Buffy, smiling at the pleased expression on her face. He took her hand and pulled her closer.

"Have I mentioned lately that you are one hell of a woman?" he murmured into her neck.

"I think Bob might have said something about it," she responded, arching her neck and making sounds of approval even as she tried to push herself away.

"Smart man, Bob was," he said, nipping at her neck before letting her go. "Go take your bath, love. I'll just finish up my midnight snack and…." His voice trailed off, as he suddenly realized he hadn't been invited to join her upstairs. "…and just clean out my cup before I tuck myself in," he finished, not meeting her incredulous eyes.

Buffy stared at him, comprehension coming to her slowly. She stepped back to the stool and turned his chin so he was looking at her. She gazed into his eyes until she could read the happy understanding growing in them. "I expect to find you 'tucked in' when I get out of the tub. Unless I find myself in need of some help scrubbing my back…" She moved away before he could turn the moment into something more than verbal foreplay, flipping her hand at him as she left the kitchen by way of the back stairs.

Spike sat on the stool, a silly grin on his face as he finished the blood and listened to her moving around upstairs. He heard the tub begin to fill and imagined Buffy stripping out of her clothes, dropping them on the floor as she did so. In spite of his depleted strength and the long evening, he could feel his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. The elastic in the material and the tightness of the jeans made it almost as visible as it had been when he wore sweatpants.

"Down, boy," he said, addressing his unheeding body part. "The poor chit's had a rough night and she's hurt and tired. We're not gonna be asking for anything she doesn't want to give." His cock continued to ignore him, remaining firmly convinced that he needed to get upstairs before Buffy could emerge from the tub and get dressed again. With a sigh, he put his cup in the sink and turned out the lights. He grabbed his cane, using it to support his bad leg as he followed Buffy's scent up the stairs.

He limped into Buffy's bedroom to find a trail of clothing leading from just inside the room to the slightly ajar bathroom door. Relying more heavily on the cane than he cared to admit to, he made his way across the room and leaned against the doorjamb. Buffy was lying in the tub, bubbles up to her chin, her eyes shut and a blissful expression on her face. Without opening her eyes, she said, "Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to join me?"

"Wasn't sure you really wanted that, love," he said. "As much as some parts of me are eager to be allowed out."

She opened one eye and zeroed in on the unmistakable bulge in his pants. "That thing has no conscience," she said, her voice not holding any real note of complaint. "Or you have no sense."

"Bit of both, I s'pect," he chuckled. "I can wait for you out here." He turned to go back into the bedroom.

"No. Come on, get in with me. Trust me, it feels really good in here."

"My memory's not that bad," he said as he began pulling off his shoes and socks. "Know exactly how good it feels in there."

Buffy blushed and sputtered. "I meant, doofus, that the hot water feels really good on sore muscles and… stuff."

She looked up at him, frowning when he wouldn't meet her eyes. Unlike the Spike she remembered, who had been just as comfortable naked as he was wearing clothes, this one seemed ashamed to be seen. He didn't go so far as to try to cover himself, but his entire posture said he didn't want her seeing his scarred and battered body.

"Hey," she said softly. "I won't look if you don't want me to, but trust me when I tell you that you looked a lot worse when we found you. Come on," she added when he didn't move, "get in with me."

Still without looking at her, he stepped into the deep tub and slid down behind her when she scooted forward. He couldn't control his sigh when his tired, aching body was immersed in the hot water. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the tub, putting his arms around Buffy as she leaned back against him.

"See? Didn't I tell you it would feel good?"

"It's brilliant," he murmured. "I may never leave here."

"Is that a promise?" she said, twisting her head until she could look up at his face. "'Cause, never leaving really works for me."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Even with the scars, it was easy to see the emotions flickering across his face. His eyes were full of wonder and the unconditional love she'd not realized how much she depended upon until she no longer had it. Their eyes held a silent conversation in which they each pledged things their voices were afraid to say.

"Alright then," he finally breathed into her hair. "Alright then."

Satisfied, Buffy closed her eyes again and relaxed against him, savoring both the therapeutic effects of the hot water and the strange/familiar sensation of the arms wrapped around her. She almost dozed off, only moving when the cooling water no longer encased her in warm comfort.

"Hey," she said, touching Spike on one leg. "Are you ready to get out?"

"Whenever you are, pet."

"I'm ready. I feel a lot better, but now I want to sleep for a week."

He snorted. "You do that, and the Watcher'll be sure I've done you in."

To his surprise, Buffy didn't defend Giles, just stood up and stepped out on the bath mat. She took a towel off the bar, handing it to him when he stepped out behind her before taking her own towel off the lid of the toilet.

"You always keep two towels in here?" he asked, then sniffed the one she'd handed him. "Or did you get the one I've been using out of the other bath?"

"You can tell it's yours. Don't pretend you can't. And yes, I brought it in here. So what?" She gave him a glare that dared him to say she'd been too sure of herself, but her expression softened immediately when he just smiled, saying, "So nothing, Buffy. I'm just chuffed you wanted it in here with yours." He kept smiling as she wrapped herself in a towel which covered her from knees to shoulders.

"Well, don't get any ideas," she said with a sniff. "Just because we got naked together doesn't mean you can bring that thing back out." She pointed at his now flaccid cock. "We still have some getting to know each other to do… and some healing."

"You want it to stay like that, you'd best take your pretty little eyes off it," he said, draping his towel around his waist. "And find me something to wear to bed."

"I knew I should have bought that underwear," she muttered. "Wait here." She went into the bedroom, grabbed her pajama bottoms and pulled them on under the towel, then dropped it to pull on the top. She pulled it over her head and glanced up to find Spike staring at her from the bathroom doorway, his face wearing a look that was both familiar and warming. "I'll be right back," she said, blushing at the unabashed admiration on his face.

She ran downstairs, all the way to the basement, where she snatched his sweatpants and a tee shirt off the makeshift bed. She turned to leave, then stopped and grabbed the jar of salve. She looked around, but could see nothing else that Spike was likely to want or need.

When she got back to her room, she found Spike standing where she'd left him, towel still around his waist. It took her a second to notice that his attempt to be casual about leaning against the doorjamb was actually an effort to remain upright. Without commenting, she dropped his clothes on the bed and walked past him, picking his cane up from where he'd left it in the bathroom and handing it to him. Still without speaking, she began to brush her teeth, keeping one eye on Spike as he hobbled over to the bed and sat down heavily.

By the time she finished her nightly ritual and returned to the bedroom, he'd pulled on the sweat pants and was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. She turned off the light and made her way to the bed, sitting down beside him and touching him lightly on his chest.

"Did you re-injure that stake wound?" she asked, moving her hand to his ribs, flinching when he hissed.

"A bit. Got pulled some. It didn't open, but hurts like a bastard. I'll be fine by tomorrow," he added hastily. "You ought to see the other guy."

She gave a silent huff of laughter and leaned down to press her mouth to the scar. "Maybe I can make it better," she said, brushing her lips over it and leaving light kisses all along the length of it.

He groaned and put one hand on her head, stroking her hair. "Could make me forget all about it; that's for bloody sure," he said. "Thought you wanted to take things slow, see how we get along, get all healed and healthy?"

"I do. I just…" She sat up and climbed over him to get into the bed. She squirmed around until she was lying under the covers, facing him in the dark. "Does this mean I can't touch you unless I want to have sex?"

"You know it doesn't. Just means, when you put your mouth on me, certain things are gonna happen that I've got no control over. You need to tell me where we stand, love. I don't want to push you, but if you don't tell me what you want, I won't know if it's pushing when I follow my dick over to your side of the bed."

Buffy nodded, knowing he could see it. Before she could respond, her mouth opened in a yawn she couldn't hide. They both laughed and Spike put his arm around her. "Think that's my answer," he murmured, pulling her back against his chest and spooning her. "You're hurt and tired. I'm hurt and tired. Got the rest of our lives to make love all night if that's what we want. Tonight's for resting and healing."

"There's always the morning," Buffy said through another yawn. She was already asleep by the time Spike said, "And I'll be right here…."

Chapter Fourteen

In Buffy's dream she and Spike were walking through one of Sunnydale's graveyards, enjoying the cool, moonlit night and holding hands in a way they never had in reality. It was comfortable, and if a tiny voice was telling her it was also a fantasy, she blissfully ignored it. When they reached his crypt and entered, falling into each other and shedding clothing in a way that was much more familiar, the voice gave a smug "aha!" and fell silent.

Her face was soon pressing against something soft, Spike's weight holding her there while his cock sought to work its way between her thighs. For some reason her dream included the sound of a phone ringing – which she was beginning to find very distracting as Spike was now kissing her neck and his hands were under her body, working their way into her pajamas to tease her legs into opening for him. She did her best to ignore the annoying sound that had no place in Spike's crypt, murmuring in approval when his fingers found what they'd been looking for.

Eventually the distracting phone won out over the sensations Spike was creating, and she realized she was face down on her bed with Spike lying on top of her, whispering urgently that she should "ignore the bloody phone".

With a sigh, she elbowed him into moving off her body. He growled, but quickly removed his wandering hand and flopped onto his back. "What the hell, Slayer? I thought we were having a moment there…"

"You took advantage of me while I was sleeping," she said, doing her best to sound as if she had not been an enthusiastic participant. "I thought I was dreaming that we—never mind. You cheated."

"Hey! It's not like I planned it. Thought I was dreaming that we were back in my crypt, and when I woke up and you weren't objecting…."

"I thought it was a dream!" she said.

"Well, if you were dreaming about it, and I was dreaming about it, I've only got one thing to say …."

"Which is?"

"Great minds think alike," he said with a grin that she couldn't resist responding to. He reached for her, pulling her against his body and brushing his lips across hers. "Don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I'm not tired anymore…" He was interrupted by the phone, which had stopped for a minute, but was now ringing again. When, with a sigh, Buffy pulled away to look for the source of the interruptions, he got out of bed and picked up her jeans. The phone fell out when he tried to hand them to her and he grabbed it before she could, flipping it open and snarling, "If the soddin' world isn't ending, I'm going to—"

Snatching the phone from him, a blushing Buffy pushed him away while she held the phone to her ear. "Not that I condone Spike's rude phone manners, but there better be a damn good reason for waking me up—oh. Really? Well, yeah, that's… that's…." She looked at Spike, whose expression alternated between glowering and begging. Buffy ran her eyes over him, the bare chest, the powerful arms, the flat belly barely covered by the pants hanging off his hips, and the protrusion tenting the front of those pants. She barely noticed the scars with which she was now so familiar, but had no trouble admiring the body that, while she had been busy worrying about the scars, had somehow restored itself to the lean, well-muscled one she knew so well.

"…that's something that can wait," she said, turning the phone off and dropping it onto the floor. She smiled at him and scooted back on the bed.

"That's my girl," he said, his grin returning as he followed her beckoning finger. He knelt on the edge of the bed and moved toward her on his hands and knees. As he reached her face, Buffy fell backwards, forcing him to crawl up her body until he was suspended over her, their hips just barely touching. He slowly lowered his upper body until he was close enough to feel her breasts brush his chest with every rapid breath she was taking. "Tell me this isn't another bloody dream," he said, staring into her eyes.

"Not unless I'm having the same dream," she whispered. She raised one hand to cup his cheek. "You're really here. I didn't think I'd ever… you're really here."

"I am, love. Think I'd have been here someway, somehow, even if I'd dusted. This is my home. You are my home," he quickly amended as he remembered where they were.

"Welcome home, Spike," Buffy said, pulling him down into a kiss that lasted until they were both panting and he was pressed against her writhing body. Her legs had come up around his waist, and they both groaned at the fabric separating them. By mutual agreement, they broke apart long enough for Spike to push his sweat pants to the floor and Buffy to shed her pajama top. When she reached for the waistband of the bottoms, Spike stopped her with a soft, "Let me."

He brushed his lips across hers before kissing his way down her body, giving loving attention to her pulsing throat, pausing to suck on each nipple until they were standing erect in bright red peaks. He nuzzled her navel and licked the skin on her abdomen. When he got to the top of her pajamas, he took the elastic waistband in his teeth and began to slowly pull it down her body, pausing when he'd exposed her neatly trimmed mons and sniffing in appreciation, burying his nose briefly while never letting go of the fabric in his mouth. Buffy's canted hips reminded him that he had farther to go, and he quickly yanked the pants the rest of the way down her thighs, leaving it to Buffy to kick them all the way off.

He returned to the scent that had distracted him, pausing to run his tongue through her folds and pressing it against her clit while she involuntarily moved her hips to increase the pressure. Surprising herself and him, Buffy pulled him up from where he had been about to remind her of one of the reasons she loved him. "Later," she whispered. "Right now I what to feel you… all over."

Matching sighs when they were molded together, skin to skin from head to toe, quickly turned to urgent panting and whimpers as the needs they'd been putting off for two nights became overwhelming. Her legs once again around his hips, Buffy silently urged him to obey the demands from his eager cock. Only when he'd slid into her and was fully seated did the urgency abate enough for them to savor being so intimately connected once again.

Buffy's moans of satisfaction and appreciation as she clenched around him were echoed by his own groaned words.

"So good. Feels so good. Never thought I'd… Could dust now…"

"No dusting. Not now. Not ever," she gasped as he began to move. "I missed this… missed you… so much. Never leave me again."

"Never," he vowed, ignoring the pain in his side from the way her arms were gripping his body. "Never leave you. Never leave this…"

Years of unfulfilled yearning and days of postponed desire made short work of their first love-making since well before Sunnydale's collapse. Buffy's "Oh God! Oh God!" was echoed by Spike's shouted "Buffy!" as they brought each other to orgasm almost too quickly. Without pausing any longer than to take a deep breath and begin to kiss her, Spike's hips were moving again, accompanied by his muttered, "Too fast, too bloody fast."

"I don't mind," she gasped, arching up to meet him. "We can just keep doing it until we can slow down."

His chuckle was smothered by another gasp from Buffy as she flexed and flipped them over. She pushed her body up, her hands planted on his chest and her hips churning as she rode him to another swift release. She collapsed on his chest, smiling at the vibration under her cheek.

"You're purring again."

"I expect I'll be purring for the next several years," he said, squeezing her tightly and then running his hands up and down the skin on her back. When he reached her lower back, he continued until he was cupping her ass cheeks and pulling her against his already recovering cock. "You know, love, I've never purred like that with anyone else. Didn't even know I could until that blasted spell of Red's."

"All those years with Drusilla? You never purred?" Buffy couldn't keep the note of satisfaction from her voice, and he responded by increasing the volume.

"No. It never happened to me until I spent an evening with a lapful of Buffy. From then on I was always having to watch myself that I didn't get that happy where anyone could hear me. Really didn't fancy explaining why there were happy noises coming from me every time you got close enough to smell." He nuzzled her neck and sucked on it gently. "Especially to you. You'd have known what I was thinkin' and I'm pretty sure I'd've been dust long before…"

"That's probably true," she admitted. "If I'd had any idea then that you were thinking about…" She wriggled against him. "But then I learned how to really make you purr…." She squeezed his softened cock, bringing the purring to a new level and gaining a moan from him.

"That you did, love. That you did."

Buffy giggled and sighed as she felt him swelling within her. "Ahh," she breathed, stretching out on top of him and falling into one of their favorite games from their short-lived physical affair so many years ago. As Spike went into game face and his cock adapted by becoming thicker and more curved, he began to twitch it, judging his success at hitting the right spot by the sounds she was making. Buffy's response was to use her stronger-than-normal muscles to squeeze him until his eyes rolled back in his head.

An outside observer might have thought they were just resting, being unaware of the steadily increasing internal battle going on between the two bodies lying so still. Only when Buffy's breathing became erratic, and her soft sighs turned to shorter, louder "oh!"s, did Spike begin to murmur to her and move his hands to pull her more tightly against him. Buffy's final convulsive "yes!" and the resulting pressure on his cock sent Spike's demon snarling his release as he fastened his mouth harmlessly on her neck. He sucked the soft skin there for several minutes while Buffy recovered herself.

When she finally gave a groan and tried to roll off, he released the skin with a gentle kiss and let her go. They rested together, arms and legs touching, hands lightly clasped between them.

"I won," he said finally.

"You so did not! It was a tie!"

"Was not."

"Was too!"

"Best two out of three?" he asked, turning his head to smile at her. She smiled back and reached over to brush the fingers of her free hand across his chest.

"You're on, cheater," she said, then dropped her hand. "But not right this second. Even slayers need rest." He narrowed his eyes at her, grateful for the respite, but wondering how much of her need to rest was real, and how much was based on her seeing the flinch he hadn't been able to hide when she touched his wound.

"Well, alright, pet. I wouldn't want to wear you out too much."

"Exactly." She felt her neck. "Did you just give me a hickey?"

"Maybe?" When she glared at him, the self-satisfied grin on his face was quickly replaced by an inquisitive look and a change of subject. "So, what's the plan for the day? Was the phone call really important, or did someone just want to make sure we weren't doing anything they wouldn't approve of?"

Buffy gave a guilty start. "It was important. I probably shouldn't have blown it off." She sat up and stretched, smiling when his eyes went to her breasts. "One of the girls who was badly injured wanted to know if you were okay. She got knocked out before Illyria showed up, and the last time she saw you, I guess you were being swarmed by ugly, scaly things." She cocked her head at him. "I think it would be nice if you went with me to see her. She got hurt for you, in a way."

"Nothing 'in a way' about it," he said, sitting up quickly. "If Blue hadn't dropped me on your doorstep, those things wouldn't have come here looking for me, and none of those girls would have had to get hurt. I owe them all."

Buffy shook her head. "Come on, Spike. They're slayers. Things are always going to be trying to hurt them. Yes, this time, they were here for you, but the next time… probably next spring… it'll be something else. If anyone is responsible for putting them in harm's way, it's me… and maybe Willow, since she did the spell."

"You had a world to save, love," he said quickly. "You made the best decision you could make at the time. If you hadn't, they still would have died or been hurt… and it would have happened years ago when they had no ability to fight back."

Buffy stood up. "I know that… but still…" She gave herself a little shake before heading to the bathroom. Spike's voice followed her in as she closed the door.

"But still, nothing, Slayer. You saved the world for them so they could grow into the super-powered little bints they are. They should be grateful to you."

"Some are, some aren't…."

He could just hear her over the sound of the toilet flushing, but wasn't sure she'd meant for him to. When he heard the shower come on, he got up and, leaning on his cane, walked to the bathroom, opening the door and pulling the shower curtain back to peek in.

"Room for one more?"

When they'd dressed, eaten, and Buffy had called the school back to say they were coming in if a safe method of transportation could be provided for Spike, they sat in the kitchen while Buffy drank more coffee.

"I guess I need to get you more clothes," she said, eyeing the tight jeans he'd reluctantly put on again. Besides the blood and other stains on them, she did have to admit that they weren't the manliest things he'd ever worn.

"Don't want you spending all your money on me," he grumbled. "You'd best be keeping that tab."

She set her cup down and stared at him. With a sweep of her arm, she gestured around the kitchen. "You do know this is all actually yours, don't you? The only reason I'm living here is because you left all that money to me… and Dawn. And since you're not really dead – or deader than usual – I don't know if it's legally even ours anymore."

"Of course it's yours. Gave it to you, didn't I?" He seemed shocked that she would even consider that it wasn't.

"But that's when you thought you were going to be dust. You're not dust, you're here, and I'm living in your house that I bought with your money."

"Can't think of a better use for it, love," he said, putting his hand over hers. "It was always going to be yours, or the Bit's. Way back before… well, let's just say a long, long time ago, I made sure that whatever I had left to leave was going to go to a Summers woman. Would have preferred to be seeing it split three ways, but…."

"You made that will while Mom was still alive?" Buffy stared at him with her mouth open. He looked embarrassed, but said, "Had no one else, and your mum was always nice to me – except for that whole thing with the axe, and could hardly blame her for that, could I? And the Bit – my memories go back just as far as everyone else's. Remember her when she was just a bitty thing, peeking at me through the stair railing. She never was afraid of me for some reason."

"You are one strange vampire, Spike," Buffy said, turning her hand over and linking their fingers.

A honk from outside told them someone had come to pick them up, and Buffy hurried to the front door to wave at their driver. Spike covered his head with the blanket Buffy provided, holding it with one hand, his cane in the other, and hobbled to the small van; he dove in through the open side door and settled against the side while Buffy slipped into the passenger seat. She smiled at Xander.

"Hey! I didn't know we were getting a personal escort."

"Well, somebody's got to keep an eye on you two," he said. "So, where to? I'm your designated driver for the day."

"The Council compound, I guess. I need to visit all the injured slayers and Spike wants to thank them. Do you think we could stop somewhere to buy him real jeans first, though?"

Xander sighed. "We could… but then I'd miss all the fun of watching the girls trying not laugh at him when he shows up in tights…." Spike's snarl was almost perfunctory, although he did manage to get another dig in about Xander just wanting to watch "my tight, little arse".

Once Spike – wearing more normal, if too stiff, jeans – had personally thanked all the injured slayers for their help in keeping him safe, and had shown Gill the scar left by her stake, they followed Xander up to the office level. Buffy watched carefully, but not a single girl recoiled from the close up look at Spike's scarred visage, and she smiled to see the relief on his face. "If you'd left the tight jeans on, they wouldn't even be looking at your face," she whispered, patting him on his butt. "But you can see it's not as bad as you think it is."

"They're slayers. Made of tough stuff," he said, but she saw a trace of his former cockiness return to his carriage. Although he was relying heavily on the cane, he somehow managed to make it look more like an accessory than a necessary support. They took the elevator to the upper floors where Giles's office and the meeting rooms were.

"Are you up for this?" she asked as Spike stared at the open door to the Council's primary meeting room. "You're not going to go all fangy on me, are you?"

"Never faulted the man for trying to protect you," he said. "And I never will, no matter how stupid he may be to think I'd ever do anything to harm you… But, I'll admit to havin' some pretty strong feelings about sending a little prick like Andrew to pick up Dana… and about not telling you or Willow we needed help to save Fred. Could be there was nothing to be done at that point, but we'll never know, will we?"

"In all fairness, we didn't know you were there, and I really didn't trust Angel when he took over Wolfram and Hart. If you'd called me…."

"I know that, love. Accept my part in everything that happened. I was a bloody coward… and I always thought I'd have time. Could figure out what I wanted to say, how to say it… By the time I knew we weren't going to make it, I was a mite too busy to ring you and say, "I'm alive and I love you. Sorry I didn't call. The poof and I could use a bit of help." He put a hand on her arm, turning her towards him. "That's the only reason you won't see fang. I know it might have changed things if I'd called you right away. I have to accept that."

"Okay, then. Let's get this over with."

She pushed the door the rest of the way open and they walked into the room, pausing before they got to the table to make eye contact with everyone there. Willow jumped to her feet and ran to them, arms up for a hug that took Spike completely by surprise. He gave Buffy a panicky look as he put his arms awkwardly around the witch. When he realized that Willow's hug was a genuine expression of her delight in seeing him again, he relaxed and picked her up. When he set her down, she stepped back and smiled at him.

"You look great!" she said, adding quickly, "Well, I mean you look great compared to what you looked like a few days ago, not compared to what you really look like when you aren't all scarry and have hair and… I'm going to stop babbling now."

"It's alright, Red. I appreciate what you've done… checking for the soul, and bringin' the healer to see me. Babble away. I know what I look like."

Still looking dismayed, Willow went back to her place at the table and sat down next to Xander who was shaking his head at her. Before Giles could get to his feet and say anything, the door burst open and Dawn came in. She walked up to Spike and stared at him, then smiled and nodded.

"Okay. I guess I don't have to beat you with the spatula anymore." She glanced at Buffy. "Is it safe for me to come home, or are you two still celebrating the reunion in loud and inappropriately public ways?"

"It's your house too, Bit," Spike said, unable to hide a smirk at Buffy's angry blush.

"Nah, it's Buffy's house. She wouldn't let me use any of my money to buy it—" She broke off. "Is it still my money? I mean with you being not dust and all…."

"It's yours. I think trying to reclaim it – even if I wanted to, which I don't – would be a bit too complicated. Explaining how I was dead, but not, and then dead again, but turns out not, and then in another dimension… Yeah. All things considered, I think we'll just leave things as they are."

"It's not like he doesn't have a place to live," Buffy said into the silence. "Or access to his money if he needs it for anything." She moved closer to him and took his hand, in case anyone wasn't getting the entire message. Giles sighed and sat back down.

"So, you expect him to be a permanent fixture in your life?" His face gave no indication of his feelings about that state of affairs, but when Spike began to growl under his breath and Buffy's eyes took on a cold determination, he held up a hand quickly. "I am not objecting to that. Not in any way. I just wanted to be clear about it before I make my offer."

"Offer?"

"Of employment. When we discussed the vampire in your home before we knew who he was, we were planning to use him for training purposes." Before the growing anger in Buffy's eyes could explode, he hastened on. "Now that we know he is an expert fighter, with experience training potential slayers, I am prepared to offer him full employment with the Council. Both as an instructor, and as a member of your team when needed for emergencies." He waited, watching the vampire's eyes for any sign of rejection.

Spike, however, was totally focused on Buffy. "Your call, love. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to do whatever you want. You don't owe us anything."

"I want to be where you are. Doing what I can to make your life easier."

"Then I guess it'll help if we work in the same place, won't it?" She smiled at him, unconsciously moving closer until they were standing facing each other, oblivious to the other people in the room. Only the clearing of throats all around the room brought their attention back to the table.

"I'll take that as a yes," Giles said with a wry smile. "Welcome to the Slayers' Council, Spike."

"Slayers Council, yeah? I like that."

"Well, technically—"

Giles interrupted Dawn's intended correction. "Yes, it is technically the Slayers and Watchers Council, but I doubt very seriously if William the Bloody would have much interest in working for the Watchers Council."

"You got that right," Spike snorted. "So, when do I go to work?"

Before anyone else could answer, Buffy said, "When you can spar with me without falling down." At his glower, she added, "You're entitled to some rest before you start work. And I think I need a vacation…." She went up on her toes and whispered in his ear, bringing a smile to his face.

He nodded. "Alright then, love. Two weeks from now, it is." He looked directly at Giles for the first time. "Is that alright with you, Watcher? Two weeks from now when the Slayer and I—" Buffy's elbow to his ribs cut him off.

"That will be fine. Assuming that there is not some apocalypse lurking that we are unaware of…."

"You don't think a demon invasion from another dimension counts as an apocalypse?" Buffy was indignant on behalf of her injured slayers.

"Well, since we know of nothing else looming, I think we can assume so, but just in case…."

"Just in case, you'll know where to find us," Buffy said, taking Spike's hand and leading him toward the door. "We're going home now. Don't bother us unless the world is ending." She paused as she remembered how they'd arrived. "Xander? Do you mind?"

He rose to his feet, gesturing to Dawn. "Let's go, Dawnie. We're going to want to pack some clothes and stuff."

"Are we going somewhere?"

"I don't know about you, but I don't plan to stay in the same house with these two while they get reacquainted. They might be all lovey-dovey now, but sooner or later there's going to be violence. Trust me."

"True," she said as she followed him out the door. "Not to mention all the sex we'd have to listen to when they weren't fighting…"

Buffy looked up at Spike as they all crowded into the elevator. "Should we be offended?"

"I think we should be bloody grateful," he said, nibbling on her ear and ignoring the gagging sounds from Dawn. "We'll have the house all to ourselves. Can shag anywhere we want to… kitchen table, living room floor, Dawn's bed…."

The ride home and subsequent packing by Dawn and Xander lasted well into the afternoon and evening. The four people were sitting around the kitchen table, Spike drinking his blood while Buffy, Dawn and Xander argued the virtues of coffee and tea in the afternoon. The lackadaisical argument had dwindled off when Xander brought up the subject they'd all been avoiding.

"So, I notice that neither one of you are, even insincerely, trying to talk us out of staying somewhere else for a while. What's up with that?"

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks, but offered no explanation.

"Because neither one of them wants us around, obviously," Dawn said with a surprising lack of anger. "It's déjà vu all over again."

"That's not—"

Spike interrupted Buffy's attempt to deny that they wanted to be alone. "Yes, it is." He met Dawn's gaze with affection but firm conviction. "Your sis and I haven't seen each other in too bloody many years to count. And we've only had a few very busy days to get to know each other again." He took Buffy's hand and brought it to his lips. "Know I love her. Know she loves me." He gave Buffy's hand a squeeze. "But neither one of us knows where we're going from here. Need some time without distractions to just… be."

"Oh, bullshit," Dawn said, waving her hand at him. "You just want to have lots of sex and you don't want to worry about being quiet or having privacy."

Spike shrugged and grinned at her. "An' there's that."

"On that disgusting note…" Xander stood up and picked up their bags. "Let's go, Dawn. If you're nice to me, I might spring for dinner somewhere before we move into our bunks at the slayer compound."

Buffy and Spike stood in the kitchen doorway, his arm draped across her shoulders, the cane dangling from his hand. They watched Dawn and Xander let themselves out the gate to where he'd left the car.

"Take her to dinner, huh?" Spike mused. "Am I going to need to have a talk with that boy?"

"'That boy' is almost older than you were when you were turned, and Dawn is a young woman. Leave them alone. It's probably just a big brother/sister thing, anyway."

He sighed and squeezed her shoulder before turning to walk back to his chair. "I've got a lot to catch up on and get used to, don't I?"

Buffy followed him to the table and leaned over his back, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head next to his. "That's why we're taking these two weeks of vacation. We have a lot of talking to do."

He turned his head and met her waiting lips with his. "I hope you don't mind if we do our talking naked and horizontal. 'Cause that's pretty much what I have in mind for the next two weeks."

"I think I can talk naked," she said, giggling when he pulled her down in his lap and slid a hand under her shirt. "I was kinda hoping your leg would get well enough that horizontal wasn't going to be our only position, though…." She turned to straddle him, putting her arms on his shoulders and leaning in for another kiss.

Spike's attempt to stand up while holding her didn't work, as his uncooperative leg refused to hold their combined weights and he fell back into the chair, swearing in several languages.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," she said. "I didn't mean right this minute. We've got the rest of our lives for that leg to get strong again." She stared at his frozen face and stroked it softly. "Horizontal is going to work just fine for now."

"Think I've kind of lost the urge," he said, lifting her off his lap and setting her on the floor. "Maybe later, pet."

Buffy stared at him in dismay, easily reading the embarrassment and frustration that were making him lie. "Bullshit," she said, putting her hand on the hard cock still visible in his jeans. He gaped at her with indignation when she squeezed it. "The important thing to me is that it's you making love to me. I don't much care how you do it. It's been a long damn time, and if you think you're going to use that leg as an excuse to leave me—mmmph!"

As intended, the suggestion that he might be leaving her unfulfilled brought Spike's demon roaring out. He threw her to the floor, landing heavily on top of her as he growled and pressed his hips into hers. Buffy suppressed her satisfied giggle as she reached in between them and pulled down his zipper. The skirt she'd worn that morning was already rucked up and she easily pulled aside her thong so that he could push into her.

As Buffy wrapped her legs around him, holding him fast while he pounded into her, his urgency faded along with his demon and he had soon slowed down and was gazing at her from bright blue eyes.

"Think you're smart, don't you?" He tried to growl, but it came out as more of a rumbling purr.

"I think I know you," she said, smirking at him and stroking his brow.

"I guess you do," he agreed, beginning to move again, more slowly this time.

As Buffy began to move with him and murmur her appreciation, she gasped, "So, we can take the kitchen floor off the list now."

A soft chuckle was the only response as he rolled them over to let his own back take the brunt of the hard floor.

Chapter Fifteen

Two weeks to the day later, Spike and Buffy walked into the Council complex hand in hand. The difference in Spike was amazing. Students and staff stared at the man walking beside Buffy – his head covered in short brown hair, his face strikingly handsome, even with the few scars still remaining. Visible once again were sharp cheekbones and full lips. His blue eyes were shadowed by long thick lashes and his eyebrows were almost completely grown in, the scar from a Slayer's sword now clearly visible.

Although he walked without a trace of a limp, Spike still carried the cane, twirling it occasionally and pointing it at the few girls he recognized. He had no difficulty keeping up with Buffy as she showed him around the large complex, set in a former school campus now owned by the Council. When they'd finished the tour, pausing to visit with Willow and to tell Dawn they'd meet her for lunch, they ended up back in front of Giles's office.

They studied the closed door, but before they could knock, it opened and Giles came out to greet them.

"Two weeks, exactly. Very punctual," he said, smiling at Buffy. He moved his gaze to Spike. "You look remarkably recovered," he said stiffly. "From what I've heard from Dawn and Willow, you were completely unrecognizable when Buffy found you."

"I think he found me," Buffy said. "Or we found each other."

"Yes. Well, however it happened, I suppose we can all be grateful…." His voice trailed off when Spike raised a skeptical eyebrow, and he sighed deeply before backing up and gesturing them into his office. He waited until they were sitting down together on a couch while he sat in a nearby chair.

"I understand that I may have some fence-mending to do, Spike. As far as my collaboration with Robin Wood was concerned… I have no excuse other than I thought you were a distraction and a danger to my slayer. That I turned out to be wrong does nothing to change the situation as I perceived it at the time. However, I obviously owe you an apology, which I humbly offer now. I was wrong, and Buffy was right about your value to her."

He paused, but Spike just stared at him. Only when Buffy poked him did he nod. "Apology accepted, Watcher. Never faulted you for trying to protect her."

"As far as the events immediately preceding your unfortunate capture and subsequent imprisonment…."

Spike held up his hand. "Don't twist yourself into a pretzel trying to make that right. I know you didn't know I was there, and that's my fault. And I know that no one trusted Angel – didn't trust him much myself for a while there – but I also suspect that you wouldn't have trusted me even if you had known." He paused and frowned. "That's all assuming that Andrew didn't tell you that he saw me when he picked up the slayer that cut my hands off…."

Buffy gave a sharp inhalation. It had never occurred to her that while Andrew may have kept his promise to Spike not to tell her of his return, he could well have shared that information with Giles. Her eyes flew to his, waiting for him to respond, to tell her he would never have kept that information from her.

There was a tense silence, during which Buffy's eyes filled, and Spike nodded, his face hard and cold. "So he did then, and you still didn't trust me enough. Some things never change…" He stood up. "Thing was… you didn't trust Buffy or Willow either. They had a right to make their own decisions. I took that away from Buffy by not letting her know I was alive. I have to live with that. But you… She's earned that from you – many times over. That's what I'll never forgive you for."

Spike held out his hand to Buffy, who was also on her feet by then, her face a mixture of anger and sadness.

"Wait, please." Giles took off his glasses and set them down. It was a sign of how distressed he was that he didn't waste time polishing them. He gave a deep sigh and nodded. "You are quite right. I have no excuses that would matter to anyone but myself. And I would certainly understand if our relations remained strained. However, please believe" – he turned his pleading eyes to Buffy – "that nothing I did, no decisions I made were for any reason but to spare you more grief. In hindsight, they were not good decisions, and perhaps did not allow for your growth as a woman and as a slayer. But they were made with… with love and concern for your wellbeing. I would never make a similar decision now."

"I think you're going to have to prove that," Buffy said softly, blinking back tears. "I love you, Giles, but I don't think I like you very much right now." She walked toward the door. "Come on Spike, let's get to work."

It was half a year and several mini-apocalypses later before the tense relations between the Head of the Watchers Council and the Head Slayer and her constant companion began to ease back into something resembling normal. Six months after they walked out of Giles's office, Xander – now a steady presence in their lives as he and Dawn admitted to having developed a relationship that had them wanting to spend more time living in the same city – finally sat Buffy down and talked to her.

"Trust me, Buffster, I understand why you're mad at the G-man. But I've got to tell you, I think he's been punished enough. Have you looked at him lately?"

Buffy shook her head no, although her mind went immediately to how aged Giles had seemed at the last general meeting. "He looks old," she finally admitted.

"He looks like somebody who gets drunk every night," Xander contradicted. "You may not remember it, but I was there after you… died. He looked like this for the first two months or more. Him and Spike both, actually. Between the two of them, I'm pretty sure Sunnydale's supply of hard liquor had a hard time keeping up with demand for a while. Except this time, he hasn't slowed down or stopped." Xander shook his head. "He's drinking himself into an early grave… and it's because he thinks you hate him."

"She doesn't hate him." Spike's voice preceded him into the room. "She told him that straight away. Told him she loved him, she just didn't like him very much."

Xander glanced up at the vampire as he walked in on their conversation. Spike was almost completely back to normal, the only difference being the lack of bleaching of his hair and the smaller amount of gel used to hold it in place. Buffy had admitted that she loved his curls, and the dark roots he'd had when he first came back with the soul, so Spike had never gone back to the blond helmet he'd worn for much of his time in Sunnydale.

"Well, she's cut him out of her life so much that he thinks she hates him. And he thinks you're responsible for it."

"Gonna send somebody to stake me then, is he? Again?"

"No! Don't be stupid. He'd never do that to Buffy. But I wouldn't expect tears if something happened to you during the next apocalypse."

"Wouldn't expect them anyway," Spike muttered before sitting down beside Buffy. "Harris is right, though, love. Haven't seen the Watcher look this destroyed since..."

Buffy looked at Spike. "I didn't mean to shut him out completely. I was just so mad… and then we got busy with the slayers and that whole vampire castle thing in Scotland…" She sighed. "So, how do we—I fix this?"

"You could start by inviting him to the engagement party you're throwing for Dawn and me."

"I thought we were keeping that small? Just close friends and fami— Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Xander stood up and stretched. "Just think about it, Buffy. That's all I'm saying."

Buffy's timid attempt to include Giles in the small gathering planned for the following weekend didn't go well at first. She tried for breezy, "Hey, Giles, don't forget to mark your calendar for next Saturday," but when he just stared at her through eyes that were focused, if bloodshot, she faltered. "I mean… if you don't already have plans… or something."

"Well…" He paused and gathered himself. "As it happens I—"

Spike leaned over his shoulder and growled, "Don't be a bloody git. Girl's offering an olive branch – grab it. We both know you don't have anything more important than a date with a bottle."

"I don't need advice from—"

Spike had already moved away, back to Buffy's side. "Besides," he said with a grin. "If you don't come to this engagement party, you won't be invited to ours."

Spike carefully avoided looking at Buffy's astonished face as he threw out that casual piece of information. His grin never wavered, but his eyes told Giles that passing up this chance to let Buffy back into his life would earn him Spike's undying animosity. Giles nodded slowly and glanced at his desk calendar.

"I should be delighted," he said. "What time do you want me there, and may I bring something?"

"Just your cheery self," Spike responded for Buffy who was still trying to decipher what he'd meant by "ours". She followed him from the office, sputtering "Our… what?"

Spike stopped when they were standing alone on a balcony overlooking the dining hall. He took both her hands and said, "Really had planned something a lot more romantic and less public for this, but…" He led her to a bench against the wall, and continuing to hold her hands in one of his, reached into his pocket to bring out a faded velvet-covered box. "Found this upstairs in my mum's stuff. I guess the hordes of country cousins overlooked it." He held it out and waited for Buffy to pull her hands away and take it. She looked up at him with eyes that never wavered as she opened the box and exposed the delicate ring lying within.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I'm asking you to take this ring. It's my pledge that I will love you and cherish you forever — or, considering our line of work, till death do us part. You can take it and hide it in a drawer; you can take it, and a decent amount of time after the Bit's wedding, start wearing it; you can take it and just keep it as a trinket to wear when you feel like dressing up…" He dropped onto one knee in a scene eerily reminiscent of one they'd played out many years ago. "Or, you could say 'yes' you'll marry me someday, and make me the happiest man in the world. No pressure," he added when she continued to look back and forth from the ring to his face.

"No pressure," she echoed. "You're giving me your mother's ring and you're saying there's 'no pressure'."

"I'm giving you the ring because I want you to have it. The marrying me part didn't occur to me until just a few minutes ago, to tell you the truth. The words just kind of fell out of my mouth before I could stop 'em."

"So, you just happened to have the ring in your pocket when you threatened Giles with not being invited to our… engagement party?"

He shrugged. "Stupid git was about to blow it. I had to say something. The ring's been at a jeweler, being cleaned. I just picked it up last night and it was still in my pocket."

"This is not the most romantic wedding proposal I've ever had," she said, pressing her lips together primly.

"How many of the bloody things have you had?"

"Well… just one other, but—"

"Who was it?" he snarled.

"You. You idiot!" She studied the ring. "The ring's a lot prettier this time, though."

He got off the floor and sat beside her. "I can try it again later," he offered. "Bring home some wine, light some candles…."

Buffy shrugged. "I think we have a group of girls to take out for a graduation patrol tonight." She slid her eyes to the side and looked at him through her lashes. "If this is as good as it's going to get, I guess I better say 'yes' now."

His face lit up in the delighted smile she was sure no one but her ever got to see. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean it. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it!"

He leapt to his feet, picked her up and swung her around, his head thrown back and rich laughter ringing out. Only when he realized that everyone in the dining hall was staring up at them, did he stop laughing and twirling her around. He set her down, gave a wave to the girls staring up at them, and pulled her away down the hall to the elevator.

How much Giles had missed of Buffy's life became more and more obvious as the engagement party went on. Spike and Xander bantered and snarked at each other with a level of comfort that was more reminiscent of brothers than former enemies. How much of that was due to Dawn's unique relationship with the souled vampire was anyone's guess, but the end result was clearly the establishment of a small family.

Willow and Katrina, some of Dawn's fellow Watchers-in-Training, a few of the older slayers, and the random boyfriends accompanying them were all the outsiders present at the small celebration. At Dawn's request, there were no formal speeches, just a general happy atmosphere as wedding plans and dates were discussed and ideas shared. The cutting of a cake Buffy had purchased broke the party up into smaller groups as everyone searched for a place to sit and eat.

Giles was just getting to his feet when Buffy appeared at his side, holding out a plate with a generous slice of cake.

"Sugary goodness?" she asked, her nervousness apparent in her posture and voice.

"Yes, thank you. I… it looks quite delicious."

"Well, since neither Dawn or I had anything to do with making it, I'm kinda hoping that's gonna be the case." She smiled, relaxing a little when it seemed he was as nervous as she was.

"So," she continued, sitting down next to him and digging into her own large piece of cake. "Dawn and Xander. Who'd a thunk it, huh?"

Giles smiled briefly then nodded. "Actually, when one considers the rather unusual upbringing Dawn has had and the rather unique circumstances of her – for want of a better word – arrival in this world, one can easily see why she would be drawn to someone as immersed in that world as she. My own personal dating experiences many years ago, have led me to believe that relationships between people in our… situation… and outsiders rarely go well."

"Good point. I know my attempts to date 'normal' guys usually ended in having to save them from some monster… or standing them up so often they just gave up on me. I mean, how do you explain that you weren't home because you were busy fighting off a bunch of rejects from a Monty Python movie? Or that your last boyfriend isn't around because you stabbed him and sent him to Hell? That's a real conversation stopper, let me tell you."

Giles gave a weak smile. "Yes, I quite imagine it would be." He didn't bother to mention that most slayers didn't live long enough for potential spinsterhood to become an issue. "I used to think that all the interbreeding among watcher families was an attempt to keep the ranks closed, but now that I'm older, I understand that it was more likely just a need to cling to those who are like you and who know what you know. Not a deliberate choice at all."

Buffy nodded. "Kinda like, if you're super-strong, and kill things for a living, you might be the most comfortable with somebody else who's super-strong and likes to kill things?" She spoke casually, but she was watching Giles from the corner of her eyes. She saw him squeeze his eyes shut, then sigh.

"Yes. Like that, I would imagine." He paused, then continued, "Buffy, I… I don't know how to apologize for keeping the knowledge of Spike's return from you. I presume I just thought the… relationship… you'd had with Spike had run its course and that there was no reason to reopen old wounds. I had no right to keep that from you. It should have been your choice what to do about it – not mine."

"Yeah," she said softly. "It should have." She patted him on the hand. "But you know, I might not have done the right thing about it anyway. Who knows? Maybe it was best this way."

"I doubt very seriously if Spike would agree with you – not after the horrific years he spent suffering for Angel's challenge to the Senior Partners."

Buffy sighed and shook her head. "No. I would never have wished that on him… or on anybody. But it happened. He survived and he's home again now."

"Home." Giles looked around the house Buffy had transformed from a decrepit relic of another time into a warm, light-filled home.

"I don't mean the house, Giles. I mean with me. Spike belongs with me."

In spite of not having spent much time in their company, Giles had been well aware of the way Buffy and Spike had been refining the slayer training, and of the way they led by example when situations occurred that required the presence of experienced slayers. While Buffy continued to be the best solitary fighter among the slayers, and Spike had shown clearly that he was a formidable opponent for any one of them – including Buffy – together they formed an almost unstoppable team. A force so powerful, working in such complete accord, that Giles was fairly sure their very presence at an evil event was enough to sway the entire battle before they ever joined it.

"I believe that to be quite true, Buffy," he said, smiling when her eyes widened in shock. "It has taken me many years to see it… years in which I was apparently avoiding seeing what was in front of my face… but I must agree. Whatever force it is that has kept you both alive all these years and brought you back together, I must bow before its wisdom."

"Huh." Buffy seemed lost for words, but was rescued by Spike's arrival. He rested a hand on her shoulder and said, "A word, love?"

Smiling her apology at Giles, Buffy followed Spike into the kitchen where he spun her around and kissed her thoroughly. She leaned back in his arms and smiled up at him.

"That's your word?"

"Could be. Did you like it?"

"Let me see…." She went up on her toes and kissed him back, smiling when biting his lip brought a happy growl from him. "Yep," she said, letting go. "I think I like it. Good word."

"So, how did your conversation go?" He released her and began putting used cake plates in the sink.

"Do you seriously think I don't know you could probably hear every word?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, laughing when he tried to look innocent.

"Just wanted to hear you say it again," he mumbled, eyes on the floor. "You know, the part about how I belong with you."

She shook her head. "I don't know how one vampire can go from wildly egotistical to wildly insecure so fast." She bumped him away from the sink with her hip, saying, "Go on back in there and make your own peace. Or go annoy Xander or something. I'll put this stuff in the dishwasher."

"Let it be duly noted that I was willing to stay here and help," he said, leaning down to kiss her on the neck.

"Duly noted. Go. Act like a host or something."

Spike strolled through the other rooms, picking up discarded cake plates and glasses as he found them, working his way, in between trips to the kitchen, back to where Giles was sitting and speaking with Dawn. The old watcher's face was animated and cheerful for the first time in months, and Xander came up beside Spike to watch.

"Looks like fences are mended, huh?" he said, indicating Giles with his head.

"Think so. Here," he handed his latest collection of dishes to Xander. "Make yourself useful."

"Hey! Just because you're all whipped and domesticated—"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll feed you your liver. And then I'll tell Dawn what you said."

Xander shuddered. "Dirty pool, deadman."

"All's fair," Spike said smugly.

As Dawn got up to follow Xander into the kitchen, Spike walked over to where Giles was standing, seeming confused about whether he should be leaving, as others were beginning to, or whether he should go into the kitchen. When Buffy came out and began to see her other guests out the front door, he moved in that direction. Only to be stopped by Spike's hand on his arm.

"Heard what you said. 'Bout the Slayer and me belonging together. I'm glad you told her. Should put her mind at ease a bit more."

"I meant it, Spike," Giles said. "When I look back, there was always something there. The two of you fought well together even when you didn't think you were on the same side. There has to be a reason why neither of you could or would kill the other. And why you always came back to Sunnydale and Buffy. I just didn't see it until recently. You do belong together." He took a deep breath. "I'm very glad she has you in her life, sharing her home."

Spike cocked his head and studied Giles's face for a few seconds, then smiled and put out his hand. "Thank you for that, Rupert. I appreciate it."

Buffy and Spike stood in the doorway, waving good-bye to the last guests and leaning against each other. When the door was shut, and the lights had been turned off, they wandered back to the kitchen and stared at the remaining pile of glasses and dishes.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like killing something."

"Right there with you, pet. My fangs are itchy."

"Just hold that thought," Buffy said as she ran up the nearest stairs to change.

At Spike's urging, they had moved into the much larger master bedroom across the hall from the room Buffy had been using. She now had the use of a couple of armoires and a built-in closet, making finding things much easier. In no time, she was changed into her patrolling clothes and boots, clattering down the stairs to join her partner.

"All ready!" she said, taking the stakes he'd already set out for her and putting them in the pocket of her hoody.

In spite of the unused stakes Buffy'd brought with her, and Spike's need to bite something, neither of them were surprised that the night ended uneventfully. Locating Slayer Central in a suburb of London had gone a long way to whittle down the vampires and occasional demons that tried to live in and around the old city. It was rare for a patrol to turn up more than the occasional bewildered fledgling trying to make its way back to familiar territory.

"Rats!" Buffy muttered. "It's dead out here tonight… and not in a fun way."

Spike laughed. "Gonna have to find another way to wear off that energy, Slayer."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't going to be doing dishes."

He put his arms around her, pulling her into his open coat and pressing against her back while his hands slid under her sweatshirt. One hand toyed with the waistband on her jeans while the other wandered up to cup one breast and roll the nipple back and forth between its fingers.

"There's always that," she gasped, glancing around to see if there was anyone watching and pulling his long coat closed around them.

"No one near, love. I checked first," he whispered in her ear, tickling it with his tongue. "Can't hear any heartbeats but yours."

His nimble fingers had quickly unfastened her jeans, allowing his hand to slide down into the moisture already dampening her underwear. While one hand worked as much of both breasts as he could reach, the other began playing with her clit, flicking it back and forth and bringing muffled cries from Buffy. Using one hand to hold the coat closed, just in case, she put the other one behind her back and found his cock, squeezing it though his jeans.

A happy moan told her how much he appreciated it, and he rewarded her by sucking on her neck while he rubbed her clit until she shuddered against him. He continued his assault on the skin of her throat until her breathing had gone back to normal. As soon as it had, Buffy turned around to face him, instructing, "Hold the coat closed."

Doing as he was told with one hand, he moaned again when she quickly unzipped him and dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth.

"Oh, Buffy, love, you know I… but I don't have anything to lean on and I might…."

Ignoring his plea to let him find something to hold himself upright, she used everything he'd ever taught her to bring him to a panting, growling release that she swallowed until there was nothing left but one little drop, which she licked off the tip of his cock before kissing it and tucking it away.

He dropped to his knees, joining her on the ground and pressing their foreheads together. "I love you so bloody much I don't think I can stand it."

"Right back at you," she whispered. They remained kneeling together for several minutes until Spike's ears heard footsteps approaching. With a sigh, he stood up, holding out his hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Time to go, love."

"I'll race you home," she said, suiting actions to words and sprinting away, leaving him staring after her and smiling.

"Home," he repeated as he took off at top vampire speed. "We're racing home."

The End