Chapter Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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CH 10

Shady Rest was quiet tonight. Or it had been until Spike came across a Gra'thor'k. Ugly bugger. Big too. Almost put up a decent fight. Might even have been fun, this bit of a brawl, if it wasn't for the fact that he was out here on the Bit's orders and all to win the Slayer's favor.

Bloody buggering— The Slayer's favor! As if any self-respecting vamp had use for that! And certainly not the Slayer of Slayers. Wrong this was. Not that he had a particular objection to killing his own kind, despite what he might have said to the Slayer while under that sickening spell. It was just the principle of it. Truth be told he couldn't give two figs for the demon population of the town, but he was evil, and helping the Slayer for anything short of stopping an apocalypse didn't sit right.

Even if he was enjoying the violence.

Still, just 'cause he'd conceded Dawn's point didn't mean he had to like it.

The Gra'thor'k was losing steam and Spike took the opportunity to air his grievances now that his full attention wasn't required for the fight. Wasn't as though the poor sod was gonna be around long enough to tell anyone about this conversation.

"Patrolling, she says." A good whack sent the demon to its knees and Spike followed up with a knee to its torso that had it doubling over in short order. "It'll be good for you, she says. Spot of violence, keep in shape." The demon had curled into the fetal position and Spike bludgeoned and kicked it with relish. "Patrolling! Me! Like a soddin' white hat." He spat the words with disgust even as he broke the neck of the demon he'd been facing off against.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Spike muttered, unsure if he was speaking of the Gra'thor'k or himself. Applied to both equally, he supposed. Though one literally and the other not so much.

A noise behind him had him turning right quick, a whirl of black leather coat with upraised fists. The moment he saw who was behind him he dropped his hands.

The Slayer was standing not fifty yards away, staring at him, all glowing blond waves and wide green eyes.

"Bollocks," he said under his breath, uncurling his fingers and wiping them awkwardly on his jeans. Hoped the Bit's note had the desired effect. He waited for the girl to make the first move, body tensed for fight or flight, knowing it would have to be the latter even though it made his demon snarl in anger. Since when had he ever run from a slayer? At least without a proper fight.

"What are you doing?" Buffy asked.

"Patrolling," he muttered.

"What?"

"Patrolling," he said more loudly, hating the word more every time he said it.

"Patrolling?" she echoed blankly.

He scowled. "Yeah, you know, hunting down baddies, looking for nasties to beat up. Walking the graveyards, killing my own kind."

She blinked then, clearly caught off guard. "Why?"

"Because . . . because . . ." Crap, should have given this scenario some thought, shouldn't they? He couldn't tell the chit that her sister from the future told him to. Especially as said sister didn't exist for Buffy yet. "Just because!" he finished defensively.

"This isn't," she hesitated. "It's not because of the-the spell, is it?"

"What? NO!" Horrified was not one of his best looks, he knew, but there was no helping it. As if he had lingering touchy-feelies for her. Disgusting, that. Lusties, sure, no shame in that, but it was nothing more than that. "Not doing' it for you."

For a moment something that was almost pain seemed to take possession of her features –maybe she was the one with residual touchy-feelies– but then her expression turned hard again. Slayer, through and through.

"Then why?" she demanded.

"Because I feel like it, you stupid, nosey bint!"

"If that's all the reason you've got then this conversation is over," she gripped her stake, raising it. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not letting you eat people in my town."

He backed away a reluctant step, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Not eating anyone. I'm bagging it."

The stake lowered fractionally as Buffy frowned at him in confusion. "You're buying blood from the butcher's?"

"Am. For the past few weeks now. You can ask. 'S the one on Carlisle street." It was half true, at least.

"That's what you were doing over there the other night? Why would you do that? Did those military guys get you?"

Anger flared briefly and he locked his jaw. Promised he wouldn't start a fight, hadn't he? Besides, was something of a compliment, her thinking that military intervention was the only thing that would turn him off the hunt. Least this one still knew he was evil. Still, supposed to be earning her trust here.

"No," he said. "Just – just am, okay? Not hurting anybody so what do you care why?"

Her eyes narrowed and the stake came back up. "Where are you getting the money?"

"Not stealin' it, if that's what you're thinking. Won it fair and square playing poker." It could have been the truth, if he hadn't promised the Bit he'd stay away from Willie's. Was a fair hand at poker, though he didn't always play fair. Of course, neither did the blokes he sat in with. Demons. Straight and narrow wasn't their way. At any rate, he was hardly going to tell the Slayer about the treasure hoard he and the Bit had liquidated. And if he sounded a bit defensive, so what? Natural state around this one, even when she wasn't accusin' him of evil he wished he could still be doing.

Thankfully she let it go. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"Told you, patrolling." The word was like bile on his tongue, but it was getting easier to say. Right terrifying that.

She rolled her eyes as only a born and bred So-Cal valley girl could. "Not here, here." She gestured to the ground beneath them briefly before waving her hand vaguely in the air. "Here, Sunnydale."

"Can't go," he said.

"Because your ho still won't take you back."

He bristled, fighting down a growl and the urge to rush her. Musn't, no matter how much he wanted to bash her smug valley girl face in. The future depended on it.

"We done here?' he growled out, fists clenched so hard the knuckles were white.

She nodded wordlessly. Bloody miracle that. Maybe she had two ounces of sense after all, bit of self-preservation instinct at least.

He turned to go, stomping off toward the next cemetery. Needed to bash something in and if no convenient demons showed soon he wasn't above vandalizing headstones.

"You start killing and I end you!" the Slayer shouted once he'd gotten a good way down the road.

Spike gave her a two-fingered salute without so much as a backward glance. She deserved it. As if he didn't know she'd stake him good and proper given the slightest excuse. Surprised she hadn't done it now.

It was two cemeteries, four fledges, and a fyarl later that it finally occurred to him why she hadn't. Bit's sodding notes! Must have done some good after all – and wouldn't she be pleased to know it. Meant Buffy was at least considering her input. Not taking them at face value, of course, but willing to keep them in mind. Didn't mean he was gonna stop mocking Bit for them. Had to get some of his own back somehow, didn't he?

And speaking of the Bit – her place wasn't too far. Maybe he'd drop in, yank her chain a bit. Probably be best if the Slayer didn't catch him out twice in one night anyway, note or not. He'd already cleared out four cemeteries, which should be enough to keep Dawn happy for now.

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Buffy watched Spike stomp off with a frown on her face. She didn't know what that backwards peace sign was all about, but it was Spike so it was almost definitely something not nice, and probably crude too. And what was Spike even doing here? She hadn't had a chance to ask him before Willow's spell, and she hadn't cared while under its influence, but now she seriously wanted to know. And why was he bagging it? That wasn't like Spike at all. Clearly he didn't have a soul. She remembered his indignation when she told Xander he was going to be good from now on, and then their argument over whether or not she would keep slaying after they were married. And, wow, inconsistent much? He'd wanted her to stop "killing his friends", but he was patrolling now? Or maybe that was a lie to get her off his back. Maybe the demon had owed him money or insulted his ho-bag girlfriend. But Spike was a lousy liar so she was pretty sure he'd been telling the truth.

And speaking of Spike's ho-bag girlfriend: where was Drusilla? It was hard to believe the insane vampire would take her paramour's mystical engagement with a smile and a nod. Had Spike stashed her somewhere? Or maybe she'd been right. Maybe Dru never took him back. Though if that were the case she would have thought he'd have come back sooner. Every time anything went wrong in Spike's life he seemed to end up in Sunnydale.

And why hadn't she asked him all of this when she had the chance?

Well, she kinda had, but why hadn't she beaten him until he actually answered? Just because he'd promised he wasn't killing and he'd looked as hurt as he had angry when she brought up his worthless ex?

Except that there was the note – the one she'd found in her pocket –and she could not say how creepy that was. There was a note in the pocket of her jeans, and she hadn't put it there. Though it did make her tend to believe the notes were supernatural in origin. No way someone walked up and shoved a note down her butt without her noticing. She was the freakin' slayer. It was written in the same hand and on the same stationary as the note about that Hus dude had been. She didn't know who they were coming from, but they'd been dead-on about the Indian skirmish, right down to Angel skulking about. Maybe the Powers were finally throwing her a bone?

Still, one proven note didn't mean they were all trustworthy, or even all accurate. The fact that the second endorsed letting Spike remain undusty and in town made the whole enterprise suspect, in her opinion. Supernatural origin did not always equal good, as she knew better than anyone. She didn't know why she was even considering following such lousy advice.

It was probably that stupid spell. Messing around with her perceptions and making her see him as a person instead of the monster he was.

She remembered his adamant declaration that the spell had nothing to do with it and he wasn't bagging it for her. That stung. She didn't understand why at first, but of course it was left over from the spell. For almost twelve hours Spike had been her everything and she his. It wasn't like she was the evil, soulless, monster, so what right did Spike have to act like it had been a painful experience? She was the one who'd been marrying a demon. And how wrong was it that that demon had made her feel more loved and cherished than any of the souled guys she'd ever known.

But that was just the spell. It had nothing to do with Spike. It could have been anyone.

Just like the free pass she'd given him tonight was the spell.

Except . . . Spike had told her the truth. Even if he wasn't a terrible liar (which he so, so, was) it had been obvious he was trying very hard not to get into a fight with her, even when she insulted him. She'd seen his eyes flash gold for a moment there, but he'd fought it down.

Maybe that was the real reason she'd let him go with no more than the obligatory warning.

That was it.

It had nothing at all to do with that stupid spell. The spell was over, forgotten, done with – for both of them.

So she'd give Spike a chance, on his own merit. And because she wanted to see if the note was right. But she'd be watching him. One slip of fang or evil scheme and he was dust.

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Dawn frowned down at her timeline. To the best of her recollection the Gentlemen would be making an appearance sometime in the next few days. Probably on Tuesday. Why did everything important seem to happen on a Tuesday? Of course, the actual killing the baddies thing wouldn't happen until Thursday. And therein lay the source of her dilemma. If she let the Gentlemen run around until time ran its natural course they'd have two nights in which to steal hearts. Two nights in which innocent lives would be lost. The trouble was, if she changed things so that Buffy defeated them before the killing could start she probably wouldn't run into Riley in the clock tower and therefore wouldn't know that he was one of the commandos, which could halt all progress toward discovering, and eventually stopping, the Initiative. She'd already deprived them of one valuable resource and impetus by removing Spike from that particular equation. Could she afford to remove another?

She could always write a note, she supposed, but how likely was Buffy to act on it? Riley wasn't going to come out and confess the moment she questioned him, and without having seen the evidence with her own eyes Buffy would have no reason to distrust him.

Two innocent lives or the possibility of countless more atrocities while the Initiative had free reign?

And then there was always that nagging feeling in her gut that told her to protect as much of the original timeline as she possibly could. Looking at this logically those two people had already died. It would kinda be like starving people in third world countries: knowing they were going to die didn't make it her fault. Not really. And the consequences of changing too many things could be much worse than two bodies.

Man, this time-prime-directive thing made her head hurt. Where was Andrew when she needed him?

Probably in his parent's basement.

Okay, she'd leave that be. But she was still going to write Buffy a note. Establishing credibility and all that. Now that Spike was "out" she didn't suppose it was strictly necessary, but it wasn't as though the scoobies were going to listen to any message she sent through him. And eventually they would get suspicious about his obvious foreknowledge. At best they'd doubt him, at worst they might accuse him of planning attacks just so he could help them get out of them in some elaborate plot to earn Buffy's trust before killing her. The other option was that he would convince them he was getting information from an outside source (which was easy enough to believe considering Spike had lived with a woman who could see the future for more than a century), and they would insist on knowing what that source was.

Yeah. Notes could not be interrogated or mistreated for their refusal to give up their source.

And if the notes were going to keep coming then she had to send them even when she wasn't trying to change things. She needed to gain the Scoobies' trust because she was going to need it when it came time for Adam and convincing Buffy to work with Spike. And speaking of Spike: patrolling was great and all, but Big Bads were better. Maybe she could get Spike in on the Gentlemen action? If she recalled, last time around he'd still thought he couldn't hurt anything and he'd been holed up in Giles' apartment. But he could probably do something without messing up the Riley/Initiative reveal, right?

Not that it wasn't going to take some convincing, but that would have to wait until she contacted Buffy again.

She pulled out the pack of stationary she had bought specifically for notes to Buffy and a pen, but she'd only managed a few words before she was interrupted by banging on her door. No question who that was. The door was practically bowing with the force of the blows.

Great. Spike was upset. Well, at least he hadn't broken the door handle again. Not that she didn't have the money, but people were bound to get suspicious if she had to replace her door hardware every other week, even in Sunnydale. And she seriously needed to get him his own key. Then maybe he'd stop with the gratuitous property damage and waking the neighbors at obscene hours of the night.

"Spike." She smiled cheerfully as she opened the door and gave him a wide berth as he strode past into the living area.

"Don't you 'Spike' me, missy."

Dawn shut the door, relocked it, and waited. Spike paced agitatedly, but didn't seem inclined to share what had him so upset.

"Did you patrol tonight?" she finally asked, hoping to save her carpet from developing a furrow.

He growled. "Hunted," he corrected. "An' yeah."

"Did something happen?"

He scowled. "Slayer saw me."

"Oh." Dawn brightened. "But that's good. Because that means she knows you're helping now. And she must believe it because you're not dust." She paused and looked him over with sudden concern. "She didn't try to dust you, did she? Did you fight her?"

Spike rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion. "Didn't. Promised I wouldn't, yeah? An', no, she didn't try to dust me. Well, she said she was gonna, but then she let me explain about the butcher's and whatnot and she let me go."

Plus, plus, and plus. "So then what's the problem?"

"That's the soddin' problem!" he snarled. "'M helping the Slayer and she believes it. Thought the bleedin' soldiers musta got hold of me. And I had to tell her they hadn't." He stopped pacing and dropped to the couch, burying his face in his hands. "Better if they had. 'Ve gone soft."

Oh. Yeah, right. Evil Spike. More importantly, Spike who wanted to be evil. Or thought he did. Her first instinct was to sit beside him, pat his knee, and tell him it wasn't that bad. But that would only make things worse.

"I'm, uh, sorry?" she offered instead.

He scoffed. "Oh, you are not. You're right pleased about this, admit it."

"Well, I am glad she didn't dust you. Which, hey! She must have got my note then." And taken it into consideration, but saying that would just be rubbing it in. Best not to harass the vampire while his monsterhood was being questioned. Monsterness? Monstrosity? Anyway, better not to make him feel threatened. "And since she knows you're in town she won't freak when you help take down the Gentlemen. They're these really creepy floating guys who steal voices, and hearts, and—"

"No."

Dawn stopped short. "What?"

"Said no. Not interested. Patrolling," he sneered, "is one thing. Spot of violence and all that. But I'm not a gonna actively seek the Slayer out and offer my help. Not unless there's an apocalypse involved."

"You don't have to talk to Buffy; she just has to see you."

"Not doin' it. Look, obviously she's giving your little notes due consideration, and now she knows I'm not feeding and I'm not causing trouble. That'll have to be enough for now."

Dawn bit her lip. She wanted to argue, but he had a point, and she didn't want to upset him any further. Baby steps. He was changing, slowly; if she pushed too hard he might spook and lose all the progress they'd made. Better to wait until he decided he wanted to change. Besides, too much too fast would only make Buffy suspicious. And it was probably best to keep Spike away from the commandos anyway.

She wasn't going to tell him any of that, obviously. "Whatever. She doesn't need your help anyway. I mean, the slayer dreams have probably already started and I was gonna send a note anyway."

She returned to her interrupted missive, leaving the vampire to stew in silence. For several moments the only sound in the room was the scratching of her pen against the paper.

"What's this about these Gentlemen, then?" Spike asked at length.

Dawn smothered a grin. "I thought you didn't care."

"Said I wasn't gonna help. Not that I didn't care." His dark expression dared her to argue, but she kept her face carefully neutral. "You said something about stealing voices and hearts. Take it you meant that literally."

"They make the whole town mute so that no one can scream when they cut out their hearts. I don't know how they choose their victims, but they sneak in in the middle of the night and cut them out of the person while they're asleep." She grimaced. "Well, they're asleep at the beginning anyway."

"Sounds right nasty."

He didn't look impressed, which was a step in the right direction, Dawn thought. Although that might just be for the way they went about their violence. Spike preferred head-on confrontation to skulking about. He was a weird vampire that way.

"An' you have no idea where they might turn up?"

"No. They don't need an invite and locked doors don't seem to keep them out."

Spike considered this. "Could stay with you," he offered casually. "'F you like."

She smiled sweetly. "Would you? That would be great. I don't know how the Gentlemen are in a fight, but they've got these creepy hunch-backed minions who pack a mean punch."

"When's this circus start?"

"A day or two, I think. Oh! Here." She handed him one of the little dry erase boards she'd bought that afternoon. Better to avoid the rush and the subsequent rapid price inflation. Stupid supply in demand.

He arched a brow. "What's this then?"

"You'll thank me later, trust me. Remember the mute thing?"

"Ah."

The board looked silly in his hands, stark white with a strip of neon color where the marker was attached at the top, against his dark clothing. She was wise enough not to say this, however, instead rapidly looking away when he caught her gaze and arched a brow in question. Wow, that eyebrow was getting a serious workout today.

Spike shoved the whiteboard into the interior pocket of his duster and then shifted the coat around his body, getting comfortable.

"Right then. I'm out. See you in a day or so."

"Where are you going?" Not that she'd been expecting him, or that he was likely to be the best company right now, but it got kinda lonely here all by herself.

"Gonna go to Willie's, see if I can get some O neg and a decent hand of cards."

"Spike—" she protested, and he silenced her with a glare.

"Agreement's null and void now, at least that bit. Slayer knows I'm here, which means I'm a free man. And don't you start on the soldiers bit. More likely to catch me patrolling than playing cards."

He had a point there. And she couldn't see a way to talk him out of it without also agreeing to let him off the hook with patrol. Although, for all his protests, he was much more lively tonight. He enjoyed the fighting even if he was harboring lingering resentment for the reason. He'd get over that soon enough, he just needed to sulk a bit. And, anyway, she was lucky he'd agreed to as much as he had. She still wasn't quite sure why he was being so agreeable, but she wasn't going to argue.

She sighed. "Fine. Don't get dusted, okay?"

"Only thing in this town with any chance of taking me down is the Slayer, an' even then it'd be a tossup as to who'd win." He threw open the door. "I'll be fine. See you in two days."

And then he was gone, leaving Dawn chewing on her pen cap. She'd just have to hope he didn't get in too much trouble.

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A/N: And so begins the "Hush" arc. This one is just two chapters, so I'll post the next chapter next Saturday.

Thanks for reading.

reenasas