Finding the Line

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing with the lovely characters of a creative
mastermind we all know as Joss.

A/N: My apologies for the extended pause between chapters. I was too wrought on
Tuesday to write, and real life interfered a bit. Keep the reviews coming; the feedback
beast needs to eat!


Dew clung to the soft leather of her boots as Buffy maneuvered between the headstones
of her third cemetery. Spike followed a few paces behind her in silence, thinking. Dru,
well – the guardian, had been right, he understood her much better now. Knew better than
to push on this uneasy camaraderie they seem to have found with wild declarations.
Knowing didn't make it any easier to talk to her when she was like this though. Stewing.
Looking for something to kill, something to take all her frustration, rage, and worry out
on. He did know that if he kept quiet, it wouldn't be him. He was so lost in thought he
didn't hear her when she spoke at first.

"What was that, love?" Spike snuck a sideways glance at her, the beauty of her silhouette
bathed in moonlight.

"I still don't understand why she did that." She whispered, her voice laced with a
combination of fear and disbelief. In a smooth motion, she kicked an offending rock out
of her path, not even breaking stride. "I just thought…" Buffy's trailed off, not able to
express her cluttered, rambling thoughts in words.

"Thought what? That Dawn would just mind you? Pet, she's a teenager. They always
think they know what's best. It's a wonder the human race lasted as long as it has.
Teenagers are bloody stupid. They do without thinking and act basically on instinct. Lot
like vamps that way. You have it made."

She stopped in front of him abruptly, whipping around to face him. Spike halted a couple
paces away from her, consciously staying out of range.

"What?" The look she gave him was pure puzzlement. He took a tentative step towards
her, noticing her rage had quieted for the moment.

"You have a lot of experience with vampires is all. Might come in handy dealing with the
'Bit."

Buffy clutched her stomach as she doubled over in laughter. One glance at the quizzical,
searching look in his eyes only served to raise the level of her chuckles.

"Good to know you find me so amusing," he muttered bitterly.

"No, Spike…" She giggled, gasping for breath. "It's not that." Almost under control, a
snicker slipped past her lips. "I just had a vision of 'dealing' with my sister the way I deal
with the undead population."

"And that somehow resulted…in this?" Her cheeks were flushed and she wiped her
watering eyes with her sleeve, slowly composing herself.

"I can't stake my sister."

"Oh. Right then." Spike strode past her, deeper into the darkness, scanning the shadows.
Then he felt himself falling and a bright flash burned behind his closed eyelids.
Vampires. A dozen or so holed up in what looked like an abandoned office building.
They were getting ready to hunt. He could tell they weren't fledglings…too well
organized. And by the looks of things, they had been there awhile. Forcing his eyes open,
Spike clutched at the grave marker beside him, pushing to his feet. He felt her hand on
his arm, heard the concern in her voice as she screamed his name.

"Stop bloody shouting!" The softness in her eyes dissipated before he even had a chance
to appreciate it, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing." He straightened his duster and turned on his heel, heading towards downtown.
Buffy growled at his back and stomped after him in pursuit.

"My ass. That…was something more than nothing." Spike didn't answer, just quickened
his brisk pace. "Spike!" She took a few running strides and caught his elbow in her hand,
spinning him around. "Whatever wild goose chase you've got us on…wherever we're
going, I think I at least deserve to know why."

"You're looking for something to kill, right Slayer?"

He was met with a bewildered look.

"Well I found you something right nasty. It should do." Spike started walking again,
away from her.

"What? How?" Buffy sputtered, jogging to catch up again and fall into stride next to him.

"A hunch. Just a hunch."


*****


"The slayer…"

"One and only," Buffy quipped. "Well, except…you know, Faith"

After a brief pause the eighth vampire rushed her, shoulder and head lowered, trying to
knock her down. She sidestepped its lumbering movements easily and drove her stake
through its back. A broad smile brightened her face and she brushed the vamp dust from
her jacket. Spike was not faring so well. He was still on his feet, but more than one of
them had gotten in a lucky shot. Blood streamed from his nose and a sizable hole in his
abdomen where one of the vamps had pierced him with a metal pole. None of them saw
Buffy until it was too late. With an efficient flick of her wrist she dispatched two. A third
lunged at her, and she spun around, sweeping his feet out from under him. Momentarily
dazed, he laid against the cool concrete floor for a second. It was enough. She pushed her
stake home, and ran towards Spike.

He saw Buffy coming out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention on the last
vamp, leaving the one on his right for her. With a growl, he brought an elbow up to meet
its face. Spike snarled between clenched teeth, and advanced, fists flying. Behind him he
heard the other vamp disintegrate and decided it was time to end the dance. Closing the
distance, he brought the last one to its knees with a well-placed kick and leaned down to
snap its neck, managing to remove the head entirely in his fury.

"Pillock," he sneered. Wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, he
turned around. "You all in one piece, pet?"

Buffy ran her eyes over his disheveled form. "More so than you." She touched the cut
over her left eyebrow gingerly. "Seems you got a brand, spanking new hole there."

Spike probed the wound on his stomach, wincing slightly. "S'nothing."

"Come on," she said, heading for the empty doorway, "Let's get you cleaned up."



*****


He sat slumped at the end of the couch in Buffy's living room, gritting his teeth as the
gash on his stomach started to heal. All he wanted was sleep, blood, and lots of it – none
of which he could get at the Slayer's house, but here he sat. After disappearing into the
kitchen for a moment, she returned with a bowl of soapy water and a washrag.

"Buffy." She met his eyes, the wet cloth in her hand dripping on the carpet as she knelt
before him. "You don't need to do this. I'll be…" Spike hissed when the warm, wet
fabric touched the wound. "fine," he finished.

"Of course you will." She swiped gently at the dried blood on his stomach. "But in my
experience, these things heal faster when they're not all clogged up with grit and vamp
dust." Buffy dipped the cloth back in the bowl, and rung it out, turning the water a sickly
pink. He stared down at her, watching her nimble fingers mend the broken skin. It was
taking every ounce of restraint he had just to control his reactions. Wouldn't do to get too
excited about her tending to him like this. Finally satisfied with the absence of blood, she
stood and carried everything back into the kitchen.

Spike let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and closed his eyes.

"Want some cocoa?" As she poked her head around the corner, he nodded sleepily.

"Blood would be better, but I'll take what I can get, love." After giving him an odd,
almost apologetic look, she vanished again and he could hear her filling the kettle. With a
sigh, he leaned his head back against the couch cushions, eyelids drooping shut.


*****

His footsteps echoed loudly against the pavement, and he reached his hand out, stroking
the rough brick surface under his fingertips absently. Like black velvet, the moonless
night enveloped him, a chilled breeze caressing his skin. When he turned his gaze to the
sky, bright points of light danced before him…stars winking from their timeless perches
in the heavens. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth for a moment, and he lowered
his eyes to the ground. When he glanced back up, the stars were rushing at him, angry
and burning with white heat. Spike stumbled backwards a few steps and then found
himself pressed firmly against the wall.

Without a sound, the first one invaded his body, drawing him into a whirlpool of color
and light.

Flames licked the buildings, complacent, as if they had all the time in the world to burn.
Screams punctured the previous silence, rising and falling from hoarse throats over an
orchestra of grinding metal and stone. Smoke rose all around him, stinging his eyes. Then
something large and scaly scampered past him into the alley on his right, moaning and
cradling razor-sharp claws against its torso. He followed, hoping to find out something,
anything.

"Hey," he called. The thing shrunk into the shadows, muttering to itself.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

Scaly growled a warning, his eyes narrowed to slits, glowing yellow in the darkness.
Spike held his hands out before him, defensively.

"Look, I won't hurt you. Just want to know what manner of hell I landed myself in this
time."

The thing relaxed slightly, and resumed his incoherent mumbling.

"Open…open…open. Everything burns."

Spike shook his head. "Don't quite follow, mate. Couldn't be a bit more specific?"

He was met with a low, threatening snarl.

"Right then. Guess I'm on my own." Spike backed slowly out of the alley, keeping a
watchful eye on his new friend Scaly. Reaching the end, he turned the corner, quickly
putting distance between him and the thing.

Its howl rose through the air, filled with heart-rending torment. "Mouth…mouth.
Swallow us all."

The Hellmouth. Spike tore through the streets towards the old high school, dodging
random piles of burnt flesh and gore with every step. He pulled up short when he rounded
the final corner. Sulfur and the stench of death hung in the air, and the sky glowed a dull
orange. Ungainly tentacles curled out from a gaping maw, writhing, wrapping themselves
through tree branches. Ahead, he saw small forms dwarfed by the massive arms, fighting
valiantly to put things right. Only two were still standing. Blue lightning shot from hands,
imbuing the air with electricity, scorching it.

And then he saw her. Laid out atop a pile of rubble. She looked so peaceful, as if she was
only sleeping.

"No." He whispered taking a step closer, hoping his eyes lied to him.

She turned to face him then, only her neck moving, the rest of her body motionless as
ever. Sightless albino eyes bore into him, through him. When her mouth opened, the
voice was not hers, but the little girl's, the one lost so long ago.

"Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes we all fall down." The
singsong tone drove him over the edge.

"NOOOO!" It came out as a roar, his anguish shattering the vision, until all he saw was
black and blood.


*****


Steaming water sloshed over the rim of the mug and onto the counter as Buffy spun
around. The keening rose in volume, taking on a desperate quality as she set the kettle in
the sink and rushed into the living room. When she crossed the threshold, her eyes caught
and held Dawn's as she flew down the stairs – the earlier argument forgotten. Her sister
made it to the couch first. Instead of leaning lazily against the cushions, Spike was curled
up in a fetal position, hands fastened to his ears, rocking and mumbling. One of them on
either side, they gripped his tensed arms, struggling to pull them free. Buffy bellowed at
him, trying to drown his screams by sheer force of will.

"NOOOOO!" he roared, his mouth hovering near her ear. She recoiled at the sound and
motioned Dawn away. Looking to the heavens for guidance, and quite possibly
absolution, she punched him once…soundly on the nose. The gasp that slipped from
between his lips, told her it had worked and she sat beside him, her sister crossing the
room to curl up on his other side.

Dawn glanced at Buffy over the vampire's still lowered head, eyes brimming with
questions and tears. The firm shake of her sister's head was all she needed to know that
now was not the time for questions. After a couple more quiet, wheezing sobs, he settled
completely, hands drifting away from his ears, falling to clutch at each other as he wound
his arms around his knees.

Buffy broke the silence.

"Spike, are you okay?"

He muttered under his breath and turned his head towards her. "All gone…all…gone. No
one. Nothing. Everything burns. Blood and death and dark. Death. Can't see…don't want
to."

Her hand shot out to catch his jaw in a firm grasp, lifting his eyes to her own. "Snap out
of it." Spike nearly whimpered at the harsh tones, and her insides churned.

"No bridge. Build it…have to. No use without the connection." Every word, his voice
grew louder. "Bridge the gap. Seal the mouth. See the way." Her grip tightened and he
whined pitifully. "My job…to find…find the line. Follow. So many choices."

"Buffy?" Dawn whispered. "I don't think that's helping." With a soft touch, she pushed
her sister's hand from his chin and twisted her body slightly so she could wrap her arms
around him. She cradled his head against her shoulder and mumbled to him in soothing
tones.

"It's alright. Shhhh. Everything's okay."

Gradually, his breathing slowed and muscles relaxed. Almost unconsciously, his arms
wrapped around Dawn, and he sighed as he breathed in the sweet scent of her shampoo.
Buffy watched as her sister consoled the vampire, almost jealous of the closeness they
could share. She never seemed to be able to do that…definitely not with Spike. When she
tried to comfort someone, it always felt false and forced. Never hurts to try, though.
Tentatively, she reached out her hand, laying it lightly on his back. He tensed, but didn't
retreat from her touch and after a moment he calmed. Buffy rubbed softly, the unease she
was feeling somewhat assuaged when her sister nodded and smiled to her over his
shoulder. After a few minutes, he released his hold on Dawn and sunk back into the
couch with a ragged breath.

The girls waited, eyes focused on his fatigued face.

It sounded as if the words were being torn from his throat when he finally spoke, "I could
really use that cocoa now, love."

Buffy stared at him, his words taking a few moments to register. Her sister, on the other
hand, patted his arm gently and shuffled into the kitchen to reheat some water. Spike
directed a blank gaze at the floor, somewhere across the room, his hands clutched
together in his lap.

"Mind if I ask what that was?" She murmured softly.

"Don't fancy talking about it right now, if it's all the same to you."

Nodding, Buffy absorbed the vacant look in his eyes and the twitch of his jaw beneath
pale skin. Now was probably not the best time. He seemed one good nudge from the edge
and she didn't want to be the one that sent him toppling over again.

Dawn lingered in the doorway a moment, cupping the cocoa between her hands.

"We're out of marshmallows," she said.

The vampire's head snapped around suddenly, a weak smile spread on his face.
"S'alright, Nibblet. You and big sis have done more than enough already. Marshmallows
are the last of my worries."

She set the mug down on the coffee table in front of him and sighed.

"What happened? What was that all…" Buffy silenced her with a glance, trying to save
Spike from the teen inquisition.

"I think it's bedtime." Dawn groaned and shot her sister a scornful look, as if someone
had just kicked her puppy. "And no buts. I'm going to bed too, as soon as I get the mess
in the kitchen dealt with." Her sister retreated up the stairs, all flounce and pout, but
didn't slam her door. A slight improvement anyway.

Buffy watched Spike for a moment, the way he held the cocoa with both hands, blowing
the steam off of it…the way he was still shaking slightly. He looked like a lost little boy,
just then, and her heart broke for him.

"Stay." It was more of a statement than a question, and earned her the most befuddled
look he had given her to date.

"What was that, love?"

"Stay…here. Just for tonight. I don't feel right sending you back to your crypt." Buffy
flushed and hurried towards the stairs, forgetting about the disaster in the kitchen. Her
hand fell on the banister and as her foot touched the third step, she spun around slowly.
"Spike…for what it's worth…" The pause lengthened as she took a couple deep breaths.
"I'm sorry."

Glancing back at her over his shoulder, Spike felt tears sting behind his eyelids again.
"Thanks, Buffy." Uncomfortable, he cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sorry
too." He turned away from her then, burying his shoulder in pillows on the couch, didn't
want her to see him cry. "Night, love."

"Night, Spike," she mumbled and quickly climbed the last few stairs.