"What it boils down to is- they're dead, and you're not."

"Right." she handed him a can of creamed corn. "Who eats this ?" she grimaced. He regarded it with distaste and dropped it into the 'donate' box.

"Not me. Blech. So why is that a problem ?" she looked up at him from where she was sorting the cans on the bottom shelves, a kerchief keeping the hair out of her face.

"Because. I feel almost like... I haven't done my job. I lived, they died. I died... they still died. So where do I fit in ?"

"You keep the apocalypses to a minimum." he grinned. "Where does this go ?"

"Very funny. Third shelf."

Social Services had come and gone without too much eyebrow-raising, but Buffy still felt a certain shrinking paranoia when faced with housework. Better to get it all over with, she reasoned. She'd attacked the bathrooms at nine, with the kitchen following at quarter after twelve, leading into the dining room at a solid three-thirty. Living room was on Dawn's shift, since she'd come home from afterschool clubs just in time to be handed a feather duster by a smudged-looking but triumphant Buffy. When Spike had showed up around six, the weight in Buffy's stomach had dropped, as she'd expected, but she was able to ignore it as long as there were things to be sorted, labeled, discarded, and scrubbed to a shine. They were covering the last territory now, the basement, and things were looking bleaker by the minute. When the last of the cans were brought upstairs, there would be time for... talking. Dangerous talking. Talking that might lead to... again, with the insane shivers !... kissing. Kissing that wouldn't be totally unpleasant, as it ought to be.

"Earth to the slayer." he waved a box of 'Dial' bars in front of her face. "Where does this go ?"

"Just... put it in the upstairs box..." she stammered. "No, no, the other one. You know, I asked Giles if he wanted me to search the warehouses for the Lumpy gang..." they shared a quiet chuckle, "and he gave me the 'Buffy's lost it' look."

"Shows good sense on his part. No use in you hunting trouble. At least, not like that."

"Hmm."

"Done yet ?" he sighed. "You've been rearranging those cans for a sodding half-hour."

"Pardon me, oh king-of-housework, but last time I checked your crypt could have used a dusting. And a scrubbing. With sandblasting for the nasty stains." she continued, and he threw up his hands in defeat. "Hmph."

She stood up and surveyed her work. It was true. If she messed with the cupboards anymore, she'd wear a hole in them. It was anxiety, definitely. The wish to avoid... confrontations. Well, just one confrontation. Never mind ! she wanted to shout at herself. Stop thinking about it !

"You gonna patrol, or you want me to cover it ?" he broke in. Buffy glared at him.

"I'm gonna patrol." she sniffed her clothes. "Buh. As soon as I change my shirt." Personally, Spike thought she smelled fine. Alright, his senses were defining it as 'tantalizing', but he was settling for calling it fine. To his jaded nostrils, nothing was quite like eau de Buffy's-been-exerting-herself. He followed her upstairs, both of them loaded with boxes that would have caused ordinary humans to crumple. He dumped the 'donate' box in the back of the kitchen, and slumped into a living room chair. "I'll be a minute !" she called from the top of the stairs.

A shadow passed over his face as it sometimes did, and that night was suddenly alive in front of him, in technicolor and surround sound.

"I know you never loved me... I know I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's... go on. Get your things. I'll be here."

He scrunched his fists against his eyes, willing himself not to let it out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You dumb sod. She's back, and every time something reminds you, you go all poncey on me. Just that I can barely believe... she's really here. Really real. She walked into the living room, and he leapt into a more casual pose. An eyebrow lifted, but if she'd seen tears, she didn't say anything.

"Ready to go." she said.

"It's not like it was a great show or anything."

"Bloody well was. A classic."

"They just drove around and arrested people. Talked over a fake radio. You could tell the background was fake when they were driving, even. Lame."

"It was great television. Better the crap that's on now."

"Oh, like 'Passions' ?"

"Leave off. That's different."

"Whatever you say."

"I'm just saying it was unfairly taken off the air-"

"Come on ! We're talking about Adam-12, here !"

"What's that supposed to mean ?"

"It means-" Buffy was preparing an especially cutting retort when a vampire body-checked her into a tree. Spike roared into action, knocking the vampire off of her, but once she was on her feet, Buffy indicated that this one was hers. "I was talking !" she yelled, and drove both of her fists into its midsection. He flew backwards, but rolled to his feet, snarling. Buffy was nonplussed. "You know, I forgot my insult." she pouted, and drew a stake from her belt.

"This one's not a fledgling, love." Spike said to her under his breath. Nothing she couldn't handle, however.

"Right."

They moved at nearly the same time, Buffy and the vampire facing off against her, but she was faster, blocking his punch easily. She delivered a one-two punch to the face, a jab to the solar plexus, and swept out his feet. He reached for her ankle, but she sidestepped and kicked him neatly in the ribs. Buffy drove the stake home, and wiped the dust from her shoes onto the grass. "It was a really good one, too." she said to the small pile of ash. Spike clapped.

"First-rate. Ten seconds."

"Thank you, thank you..." Buffy said to an imaginary crowd, and did a neat little bow. As she came up, she heard Spike snarl, and a twig snap. "Spike ?"

They were not alone. Very, very not alone.

There had to be at least twenty vampires surrounding them. The edges of the crowd faded into the darkness, but their eyes made little pools of yellow fire against the black. She forced herself to breathe evenly, and began furiously seeking a weak spot in the ring with her eyes. Breathe, Buffy. A real welcome-home party. Beside her, she felt Spike flex, and his game face appeared.

"Company, pet." he replied, through clenched teeth. "Time to put out the good china."

At times like this, the earth stopped, and there were three things in Buffy's world.

Me.

Spike.

The enemy.

She couldn't see him, fighting somewhere behind and to her left, but she could feel him moving alongside of her. Left hook, spinning kick to the head, take one down. Do it again. Dodge. Let Spike sweep past her, take this one out. Elbow to the solar plexus, backfist. Do it again. Jump one, stake the other. Flip over Spike's back, plant both feet into someone's face. Do it again. Sweep, stake, punch, stake, block, stake. Do it again. One two, one two three. One two, one two three.

"Lovely..." Lumhe purred, watching them cut a path through his minions. "Just lovely."

"Should we send the rest ?" said the K'bbeth at his elbow.

The girl in the darkness stood up, and threw a vampire off of her partner's back. Without looking at each other, they flung themselves back into the fight, fists working in perfect synch.

"Not yet." he sighed. "Let them have their moment."

Breathe, Buffy.

One, two, stake.

Breathe.

That was ten. Ten ?!

Breathe.

Flip, kick. Ow, my arm. Punch. Punch, punch. For good measure. Punch. Stake.

Eleven.

Breathe.

Close your eyes. Feel it.

Twelve.

Open your eyes.

Spike was panting, something Buffy found terribly amusing. Guess breathing is a hard habit to break after all.

"Nine." he said.

"Twelve." she replied, without smirking.

Breathe.

"Buffy..." he said softly, voice low. "Buffy."

She went into his arms, and together they sank to the ground. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, smelling her, kissing the top of her head, while she breathed into his chest. I didn't have to watch him while we were fighting. It was like... knowing the sky was blue, without looking at it. I have to spend the rest of my life fighting vampires. I don't want to do it without him. I don't want to do anything without him.

Her senses stretched out and touched something, and came back to her screaming warnings. They parted, and stood up, back to back. There was a second where they could have run, maybe. But only maybe. It passed.

"Good evening, slayer." Lumhe drawled.

"You guys have got to invest in some new opening lines." she said softly, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the vampires that stretched out across the graveyard, several rows thick. The horde was peppered with hulking, slimy K'bbeths, which the vampires were eyeing nervously.

"These are my brethren", he continued theatrically, "the Khlouds." Spike snorted inappropriately.

"You've kidding. Tell me you're kidding." Buffy grinned. Spike attempted to say something, but it was lost in snickering.

"Khlouds !" he managed to sputter. He spat out something else, that could have been 'ponce'. Lumhe didn't look like he thought it was funny.

"Your laughter is ill-timed, Slayer, and you, turncoat." Spike said 'ponce' again, and doubled over. Lumhe frowned, and cleared his throat. "Your laughter is ill-timed, Sla-"

"Caught that part." she twirled her stake. "I'm waiting for the part where you all promise to catch the sunrise tomorrow." Lumhe's face lost its arrogant sneer.

"You wish." he said in a normal voice, and took a step to the left.

Buffy had never been attacked in a literal wave before. None of them broke rank, or stepped up to attack her one-on-one. They simply acted like they were going to wash over and across her, in perfect formation. She kicked the first row, knocked a couple down, staked a couple, all in the first few seconds. By the time she was getting to the remaining vampires, the next row had already advanced and was reaching for her. Spike was beside her, both hands bleeding at the knuckles, but not pulling his punches in the slightest.

"I'm- gonna- make- a- hole..." he punctuated his quiet sentence with blows, "and- you're- gonna- run."

"No."

"Yes !" he shouted, and flung a vampire bodily into the next wave, knocking three more down. His ferocity caused the next line to pause, for a second. It was all he needed. He grabbed her away from the one she was fighting, staked it, and shoved her towards the street. "GO !" he hissed, and for once in her life, she listened to him. Buffy took off, and a few of the brighter minions finally broke rank and took off after her. They were no match, however, for a slayer with a mission. Especially not in sensible shoes. She paused on the corner to stake two of them, and took off again, still hearing Spike's gleeful roar echoing through the air.

"Come on, you blighters. That's right ! The big bad's ready for you !"

I'm coming back, she cried out in her mind. With reinforcements. I'm coming back. So please, please...

... hang on !