In The Space Between

"I offer you power," Illyria said silkenly, turning to the old man once again, "If you agree to be my pet."

The old man's eyes slid to complete blackness. "I would love nothing more," he replied, his voice dripping venomous sincerity. He was nothing, if not an opportunist.

Chapter 14: Wasted Hours With Talking

Buffy stared at the young woman in confusion, "Why would I know where your boyfriend is?"

The woman sighed, running a hand through her brown hair, "Because Warren is possibly the most amazing man in the entire world."

Buffy looked from the woman to Spike who simply shrugged back at her, "Don't look at me, pet. Don't think anyone's ever said that about me." Buffy graced him with a small smile, shaking her head slightly.

"If you don't know where he is, I really must insist upon continuing to look for him," the woman continued, apparently unconcerned with their gentle disbelief.

"How about we help you find him, instead?" Buffy asked softly. "Where did you see him last?"

"Well, usually we live in Dutton, but I woke up and he wasn't there," she smiled widely at Buffy, "He probably just forgot to tell me where to meet him."

"Or," Spike added under his breath, "He decided to upgrade to a newer model and decided to chicken out of…" The slap rang out across the darkened street. "Bloody hell," Spike spat, staggering backwards slightly from the force of the blow.

"Do not talk about my Warren that way!" the young woman shrieked. "Warren is good and honest and wonderful and handsome. He would never leave me." She stomped her foot impatiently, "You will definitely not be helpful!" Without a look back, she began to walk away, her head held at a fiercely defiant angle.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Getting a little soft there, Spike?" she asked dryly. "Staggering after getting hit by a girl?"

Spike glared at her, gingerly touching his cheekbone. "She doesn't hit like a girl," he muttered. "Hits like a Slayer."

Buffy's grin melted away in an instant. "What?" she prompted, her hand unconsciously finding its way to his cheek, practiced fingertips searching for signs of fracture. "What do you mean she hits like a Slayer? Like, Slayer strength or Slayer training?"

For a moment, she feared for him, as his eyes glazed over slightly at her touch. She couldn't know how much her concern meant, how deep her earnest eyes affected him. "Slayer strength," he replied finally, his eyes clearing as he hissed in pain.

"It's just bruised, you big baby," Buffy replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm more concerned about how a girl like that gets Slayer strength." She paused, her mind working in overdrive. "We'd better take this one to Giles."

Buffy stepped first into the warmth of the living room lights at Giles' place. "Giles?" she called, even before looking around the room, "We've got one for the books." She paused, stepping lightly out of the way just before Spike could walk into her. "Ok," she said with a grim smile, "What the hell is he doing here? And since when do we call Scoobie meetings without me?"

"Buffy," Giles replied nervously, "Riley has expressed certain, perhaps valid, concerns…"

"Yeah, and I thought we, I dunno, dealt with those?" Buffy's voice was terse as she regarded the still-bandaged man who sat in one of the armchairs.

Under his breath, Riley was muttering something to Xander, pointedly looking in her direction. Buffy felt herself losing control. Not only was her mother still in a coma, some rogue Slayer strength-possessing weirdo with a boyfriend obsession wandering around Sunnydale, but apparently, her best friends felt that they had better take advice from the ex-boyfriend who had not only bailed on her, but also thought it best to stake-first, ask-questions-later upon his unwanted return. "What?" she grated out, from between her teeth, "What is it, Riley? Spying on me again? Some super important observation that only you can make?" She moved forward menacingly, her eyes flashing danger.

"I was just pointing out that he held the door open for you," Riley said calmly, gesturing towards Spike.

"Seriously?" Buffy exclaimed, frustration colouring her tone. "In what possible way is that relevant to anything?"

The room was silent. "I…I think…h-he was j-j-just surprised b-by it," Tara said softly, a voice of reason in the wilds of Buffy's temper.

"Oh," Buffy amended, deflating from her attack mode.

"I just, wanted to see everyone," Riley said lamely. "I wanted to apologize for not saying goodbye."

Buffy blinked, staring around the room for a long moment. "Seriously?" She exclaimed again, in disbelief, "But… they're not your friends…"

"Being in the military changes your perspective, sometimes," Riley said quietly, his eyes having dropped to study the fibers of the carpet.

Buffy stared at him for a long moment, her eyes lingering on the sling he still wore wrapped around his arm. "I need…" she started, her voice wobbling, "I need to… not be here." She turned on her heel and bolted for the door.

Spike stared after her fleeing figure and sighed heavily. He looked back at the cluster of people sitting in the living room. "For the record, Whitebread," he said drily, "I probably would have staked me too." He disappeared before the room full of astonished faces could form a sentence.

"Dutton, you said?" Willow looked at Buffy with a contemplative look in her eyes. "There's a technical college in Dutton, but not much else." She wrinkled her forehead in thought, "But you said the girl was highly repetitive, right?"

Buffy nodded sullenly, her posture still radiating displeasure at her best friend.

Willow sighed, leaning over in her chair to face her. "Listen, Buffy, I'm sorry about the Riley thing, ok? We all are. We know things didn't end well there, but he had some… interesting things to say. Important things. You need to give him a chance to explain himself."

"Like he gave me a chance before he ran back to military," Buffy finished curtly, raising her hands to cut off Willow's interjections. "No, no, I get it. He's the clean-cut military type. None of you saw what I saw, ok? None of you… got hurt the way I did. And seriously, you guys all need to lay off the Spike thing."

"We didn't talk about Spike," Willow replied. "I mean, really Buffy, we do trust you. He's physically stronger than we are. It makes… well, it kinda makes sense that you patrol with him. Him staying in your basement is kinda weird, but… you've got a lot going on. And he doesn't seem, quite as… obsessive as the other Spike was?" Willow's voice trailed off into question as she gazed at Buffy.

Buffy gave Willow a half-smile, "I just… I guess I keep expecting some weird backlash from you guys over him. I don't… It's not like there's anything going on, we're just friends." A small part of Buffy screamed in disagreement. Friends do not have intense make out sessions in the basement in the dark. Of course, people who are more than friends probably do it more than once and don't apologize for it happening afterwards, so maybe she wasn't really lying after all. She sighed, "It's just…" she feigned another smile, "Well, I never thought I'd say that I was friends with Spike."

Willow smiled back at her, "Hey, if Xander had figured out that Spike could help with the research load, I think he would have been a lot nicer to him from the start."

Buffy laughed, a free laugh that came from somewhere inside of her, bursting through the tenseness of her feigned happy mood. It felt good to laugh. Things were so on edge, with her mom still lying in that hospital bed, no matter that her life signs were stable and the doctors all so optimistic. Dawn was a wreck, bouncing back and forth between the house and Janice's every day or so as Buffy tried to fit in patrols. There was so much to worry about.

"Wait a sec," Willow said suddenly, "Didn't Spike mention something about a robot girl, back when he was narrating everything? He brushed over it pretty quickly but… Dutton College does have a robotics program."

"Wouldn't he have recognized her?" Buffy asked softly, peering at the computer screen with concern. "I mean, if he'd seen her before…"

Willow shrugged, "Maybe it was dark. Maybe he didn't actually get a good look at her first time around. He said he wasn't all that involved, remember? It's not the same. And there's differences between this dimension and his anyway, remember?"

Buffy frowned, suspicion rising in her. "Maybe," she replied uncertainly. "Or maybe he's hiding something."

Not that Buffy got a chance to pursue that line of thought. In an ear-splitting instant, the phone rang. "Dawnie," Buffy called from the dining room where she and Willow were spread out across the table, "Can you get the phone?"

"Do I have to?" Dawn's voice carried down the stairs.

"Fine!" Buffy yelled irately, walking the extra few steps to the hallway phone. "Hello?" she demanded.

"Uh, yes, may I please speak to Buffy Summers?" the male voice stammered, alarmed at the violence of the greeting.

"Speaking," Buffy replied tersely.

"This is Doctor Howards, your mother is awake."

Buffy felt the phone slip from her hand, as tears of relief sprung up in her eyes. "Dawnie!" she called, her voice instantly softer and brighter, "Mom's awake!"

Spike watched the Summers girls crowded around their mother's hospital bed. It was a scene he was watching too much lately, but at the same time, relief coursed through his system every time he saw it. He may have mucked plenty of things up since arriving in this time, but at least this one thing he did right. Averting Joyce's death… on some level it meant more to him than any and every crumb Buffy had given him of late. Seeing the relieved smile on her face and listening to Dawn speaking at length about the merits of getting ice cream the second Joyce was released was enough to make the soddingly sentimental parts of him rise to the surface and wax lyrical. So he looked away from the room. Better to spare the world that sort of torture.

"I should probably get going," Buffy's voice carried out to him, the note of regret in her voice achingly clear, "There's patrol to do."

Spike took a few decisive steps, lingering in the doorway to Joyce's room. "Take the night off, pet," he heard himself saying, "Stay with your mum. I'll handle the baddies for one night."

For a moment, she looked both surprised and ready to protest. Her mother took the lead though. "Oh, would you Spike?" the grateful tone of her voice melted his undead heart. "It feels like its been ages since I've had any time with the girls, and..." she trailed off, an expression on sincere appreciation written across her features.

"Do what I can," he shrugged, settling his shoulder in the doorframe in feigned nonchalance. "Like seeing you awake and happy. S'the way it should be."

"It totally is!" Dawn added, "Which is why when we get home…"

"Which isn't until the day after tomorrow," Buffy added firmly.

Dawn rolled her eyes, "When we get home, we totally need a girl's night. Ice cream, sappy movies, ice cream...definitely no homework," she continued to ramble, her mother and Buffy nodding along knowingly. Spike left the trio with a small smile on his face. Seeing them happy and together was more than he had ever dreamed of. He only hoped that he wasn't going to wake up at some point only to discover the past month to have been nothing more than a dream, and nothing but dust and despair and the harsh bitterness of that failed reality to seep back in. He wasn't sure he could survive it again.

So lost was he in his thoughts that he did not actually spot the strangely-clad woman until he very nearly walked into her. "Blue?" he gasped, "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

Illyria shrugged, "I need not answer to you."

Spike sighed, "Wasn't really expecting an answer."

Illyria looked at him askance, through eyes that assessed him clearly and critically. "I have been conducting experiments," she began, falling into step alongside him as they continued on their way out of the hospital. "Observation mostly, at least thus far. I have a theory that there is something greater at work than merely good and evil. I mean to figure out what it is exactly."

Spike watched her warily from the corner of his eye. "Not been hurtin' anyone in the Slayer's town, have you?" his tone was low but conveyed his concerns.

"No one has been injured or unduly affected by my actions," she assured him. "Though your loyalties have obviously come into question." She stared at him through unblinking eyes. "You are hers, then?"

Spike hesitated. "To be honest," he paused, running his hand through his hair and feeling the gel becoming unstuck, "It'd be better for her if I just left…"

"No." Illyria interjected. "That would be entirely unsatisfactory and would be to the detriment of you both. If you have not convinced yourself to stay, then I will depart again until you have." She turned slightly, angling herself so that even as she walked through the hospital doors, she was set out across the parking lot at an entirely different angle than Spike had been intending.

Spike blinked, "What the bloody…" he ran across the space that had formed between himself and the demon god. "You mean you want me to stay with Buffy?"

Illyria gave a long-suffering sigh, "It is what you want, vampire. I am not heartless and you've already provided dutiful and loyal service. Never once did I question your loyalty to me, except where the Slayer comes into the equation. At that point it becomes clear that your heart will never allow you to follow anyone but her." She shrugged, "And with her you are an equal, not a mere pet. Thus it is only logical that you remain here, in this time, with the Slayer. It is an improvement in your situation and hers, and eliminates any sense of competition. I can't bear to be in apparent competition with a mortal. It's… degrading."

She continued to walk, "Besides which, I find you to be a fascinating study in the theory of love. I am attempting to isolate the factors that inspire the emotion. There is a connection to that primal power I seek, I am just uncertain of what that connection is." She paused, "But I will."

Spike ran another hand through his hair, heedless of the effects. "Blue, I…"

"I don't really expect you to understand," Illyria added in a softer tone, turning to face the vampire. "But you are needed more by her than by myself at the moment, and I am a generous and just god. If I have need of you, I will find you. In the meantime, my plans are best served by remaining without you. Your connections to the Slayer are too well known. Any known affiliation between yourself and I is unnecessary and may interfere with my research." She nodded stiffly, "Goodbye, vampire, at least for now."