CHAPTER 4

The room had been eerily quiet for the last five minutes, save for the wracked sobs of the girl as she clung to Spike. The desperation in her arms was endearing yet frightening in its hysteria. It was as if she knew that letting go would banish her into an unconscionable darkness forever. To his credit, Spike had maintained a semblance of patience, though his own mind was racing with unanswered questions. Where did this girl come from? Why did she look and feel so much like the slayer? And above all, why did he have the burning desire to protect the stranger with his life?

The shock of what lay before them had made Willow lose all train of thought. The vigor with which the girl held onto Spike didn't look just like someone grateful of being saved. No. There was a frantic love in the girl's embrace that made the ex-witch uncomfortable. This petite girl that looked so much like her best friend clung to Spike as if he was the end all-be all of her existence. The same Spike that had once made it his goal to kill his third slayer. True, he had changed greatly since then, had his transformation been that severe? He had said, no shown that he was capable of love. As twisted as it was, he had fallen hard for his mortal enemy he had once sworn to kill. And then there had been his brotherly love of Dawn. He had changed more than thought possible. Although she did like him, Willow seriously doubted she would ever throw herself into his protective embrace. Save for Dawn, none of them would.

Tara, though surprised, was not as speechless as her former lover was. They all knew Spike had changed but none of the Scoobies truly gauged the depths of his progression from killer to protector. They all knew of his unwavering dedication to Dawn. But only Tara was privy to his secret trysts with Buffy. From that knowledge, she had surmised that his love for the slayer had brought far more of William to the surface than in any time in his un-life.

Afraid of disturbing the mysterious reunion, Tara grabbed Willow by the elbow, escorting her into the hallway.

"Th…that's definitely Spike, right?" the Wicca asked her former lover, almost in awe. Even knowing what she did, the scene before them had convinced Tara that Spike may have been on the verge of doing the impossible: gaining redemption without the luxury of having a soul.

"Yep. One hundred percent Spike," Willow replied and then mock-scowled, "with his 'bloody hell's' and 'bollocks' all in place." Tara smiled and for a moment, Willow allowed herself to forget that they were no longer together. Tara's smile was more beautiful than any sunrise. It put her in the mood that an innocent's child laughter did. Except, with Tara's smile, Willow's behavior usually fell by the wayside of innocent.

"And," Tara said, her hands gripping Willow's delicate fingers, "don't forget 'sodding' this and 'nancy-boy' that." They giggled like schoolgirls privy to some great secret. But the levity was what they needed and they both felt the tension bleed from their muscles as their minds again focused on the scene before them.

"This is so weird," Willow whispered. "I mean, she looks so much like Buffy. They could be identical twins."

"Oh no. Do…do you think that it's a Buffy from another dimension, like the vampire Willow you told me about?" Willow cringed at the thought of her encounter a couple years ago with…with herself. That had been an experience to say the least. Willow had been mortified at seeing, well, herself decked out in leather and radiating that S & M smile. And the goodbye feel-age at the end…well, that must have been a portent of things to come for the slight redhead.

"Well, I guess it could be. I don't know. I guess we have to wait until Spike's little bonding moment is over before we make our next move."

"I…I guess you're right. So, do you think this is Scoobie time?" Tara asked, fiddling her fingers.

Willow thought for a moment. Anya was no doubt getting her jollies fondling her capital gains at the Magic Box and Xander was probably at work. Though Willow didn't know how long that would be considering the rain. Buffy should have been home by now and Dawn…

"Dawn," Willow said, and winced, hoping her zest didn't disturb the pair on the bed.

"Dawn? Doesn't she get out of school soon?"

"Yeah," Willow said, looking at her watch, "in about forty-five minutes or so."

"I can go get her."

"Could you? And before you get her, maybe you can stop by the Magic Box and fill Anya in."

"I'll leave now," Tara hesitated before finishing, "you wanna come?"

Willow's eyes gleamed at the suggestion and she hoped Tara didn't see it. She knew she had screwed things up when it came to Tara and the last thing she wanted to do was push lest things get even more strained.

"I better stay here and wait for Buffy, you know? I don't know how she would like it that Spike was all cozy in her bed with…well, with her."

"You think she'd think they were playing checkers and get jealous?" Tara joked. Willow laughed, remembering the Buffy-Bot ordeal last year.

"I know I definitely need to stay here, then." They both smiled at the prospect of Buffy catching her number one fan in a sex-bot's embrace. No, that wouldn't be too good and maybe the Slayer would finally stake Spike for good. "Stay here, preserve the peace," Willow added, almost to herself.

"And I'll look for some books on alternate dimensions, just in case."

"Okay," Willow said and before she knew it, she landed a sweet kiss on Tara's cheek, adding "be careful," before realizing what she had done. The former lovers eyed one another uneasily. Of all the things not needed. "Tara, I…" Willow stammered before Tara silenced her with a pat on the cheek.

"I will be," she said and smiled longingly at the red head before walking down the steps and out the door.

"Real smooth, Rosenberg," she reprimanded herself. It had seemed like ages since her lips had touched the soft flesh of her one time girlfriend. It had felt wonderful but at the same time a burgeoning angst crept up within her. What if that one kiss set their reconciliation back? What if Tara didn't want to see her again? What if …

Willow hushed her doubts, knowing that although it may not have been prudent Tara did not disapprove. Still, she had to be a tad bit careful when it came to Tara. It was evident that she was slowly regaining her trust in Willow, but trust was such a fragile thing. It took time to solidify into a solid foundation and yet one action could crumble it into so many bits of broken memories.

The red headed ex-Wicca sighed and walked back into the room. She was being selfish. There were things more important than her relationship with Tara that needed to be resolved first. She shook her head, still not believing the scene before her. Spike, of all people, held onto by this stranger as if he was her salvation. It wasn't that she didn't like Spike. Far from it, in fact. It wasn't just his blistering personality but she had seen firsthand the good he was capable of. He had been the surrogate slayer in Buffy's absence. Were it not for him, Sunnydale would have truly turned into Sunny Hell. And despite all of his unselfish deeds, he was still treated like an outsider. Willow didn't treat him bad but she wasn't quick to rally at his side either, following a Xander or Giles tirade of how they still shouldn't trust him. How he must have felt, not accepted by them. Only Dawn looked at Spike for what he was now and not what he had done in the past.

Willow hung her head in shame. True, he was a vampire who had no soul, but how much did a soul matter in the grand scheme of things? From Giles' explanations, all a soul did was alleviate one from feelings of guilt and remorse. But it took only a glance in the papers to see that having a soul did nothing to curb one's potential for monstrous acts. Sometimes when she looked at Spike, past his haughty attitude and sardonic remarks, she saw a being screaming for acceptance. His only wish, aside from Buffy's love, was to be judged on what he did in the now, not what he had done in the past.

As she looked at the girl, her arms steadfast around the vampire's neck, a single tear escaped Willow's eye, cascading down her cheek and to her boots. Despite Willow's deceptions, Tara didn't hate her. She still loved her and though she had to get over the things that Willow had done to her, she was still giving Willow a chance to make amends. Though she didn't feel deserving of that chance, it was being given nonetheless. Her mind wandered to something Giles had once told Buffy about forgiveness. It wasn't something given because someone deserved it. Forgiveness was given because the person needed it.

She looked sadly at Spike and the pain he had caused. Though he didn't have a soul and was theoretically guiltless, Willow begged to differ. She had seen him virtually every night after Buffy's death and despite his false bravado she saw the torment he was putting himself through. Thinking of that time, months ago, the red head came to a decision. No longer would she hold Spike's past atrocities against him. She would judge him on what he did from now on. Surely, he deserved that.

I just hope the others can do the same, she thought to herself. She still had her doubts about her resolution, but if she had seen the face of the once Big Bad, holding the grieving stranger, there would have been no doubts in her mind whatsoever.

I could always drop another building on him, Buffy though venomously. The Slayer was none happy with her Splash Mountain audition twenty minutes ago and her sullen mood was going nowhere as long as the rain continued to inundate her already overly saturated form. And though she knew it was wrong, every ounce of her displeasure was centered on a particularly sarcastic, bleached blonde, sexy vampire.

Buffy shivered at that last thought. Despite her mounting frustrations and an overwhelming desire to introduce Spike to the wrong end of a number two pencil, she always ended up thinking about him naked. The way his muscles contracted and hardened (just like other parts of him) at the touch of her. Or the way the candlelight or moonlight highlighted his pale skin as he rhythmically moved against her, inside of her.

"That is so over," Buffy said, admonishing her straying thoughts. What was it about him that made her like this? She could scarcely retain a lucid thought when it came to him unless it detailed the thrust of his hips into her. The way he made her feel, both inside and out was…incredible. No. Incredible wasn't a strong enough word to describe what Buffy felt when she was lost in Spike's embrace. It was all she wanted and when he was not around, it was all she yearned for.

But it's over, Summers. You saw to that yourself, she thought inwardly. Leave it to Buffy Anne Summers to drive away the one person that regardless of how much she hurt him, both with her fists and her words, was steadfast in his love. Angel. Parker. Riley. She had given herself to all of them and they all had left her high and dry. But Spike. He would never do that. Or would he?

As she turned the corner to Revello Drive, Buffy had to wonder that if, given enough time, Spike would have followed in the traditional footsteps of the others and skipped town. She pursed her lips and came to the conclusion that he would have. He was like all the rest. But he's not, a tiny voice cried to her, and you know it. But the voice was silenced by the Slayer's self-denial. What is different about him? The fact that he's a vampire without a soul? The fact that the only thing keeping him from tearing my friends apart is a government chip lodged in his gray matter? And how long before that wears off? Because we all know how dependable Uncle Sam is…

She sighed in relief. Her inner diatribe had silenced the critic within. Spike was evil. And given half the chance, he would hurt her more than she could ever be hurt. And that was the truth.

'Did it work? Did you convince yourself?' she heard his confident voice say to her. He had seen through her then when she so desperately attempted in vain to explain why she had kissed him that second time. He hadn't bought it for a second. And now, for some reason, Buffy was having her own difficulties believing her own excuses.

"Denial ain't just a river in…" she began, conceding that maybe, just maybe, there were things within her that she was afraid to let loose. But the sight of the black De Soto parked in her driveway interrupted her thoughts.

"Of all the nerve," she said, her jaw stiffening, all rosy thoughts of Spike temporarily forgotten as her rage at his indignity earlier bubbled to the surface again. Her light steps became forceful stomps as her feet emptied several puddles on the pavement before her. Her fists were balled at her sides, pleading with her to re-introduce them into a certain vampire's face. But she wouldn't. Leaving someone to walk thirty minutes in the rain and splashing them with an ocean of nice and healthy acid rain water didn't warrant a beating by the Slayer, did it?

Buffy burst into a light jog up the lawn, her feet sloshing in her shoes. Her recently purchased work shoes, no doubt. No, she was wrong. As she put the key in the door and turned the lock, there was no doubt Spike had definitely earned his beating.

Spike was vaguely aware of the conversation in the hallway between the two witches. He even heard the quiet shutting of the front door as one of the witches (probably Tara) stepped out. And his senses told him that the witch still left in the house was standing two feet behind him, the anxiety coming off of her in waves.

Despite that he was aware of all these things, Spike wasn't the least bit interested in them. He was too preoccupied with the notion of someone (namely a Buffy look-alike with a bad haircut) actually glad to see him. No, that wasn't exactly right. There had been Dru; whose always showed her dark beauty smile whenever he sauntered into the room. Then there was his Nibblet. Her affection for him was unconditional. She didn't hide behind sacred duty like her ever-denying sister. Buffy. She was a piece of work. Regardless of the things she said or did to him, her eyes told him what the rest of her was afraid to admit. She wanted him for much more than just the ecstasy that coursed through her when they were together. Still, he doubted she'd let herself admit it, much less melt into his arms in total submission. No one ever had.

Of course, there was a first time for everything.

When the girl had first wrapped her arms around him, it took all he was worth not to wrench himself from her superhuman grip. But for reasons unknown to him, he didn't. At first, he had thought that it had been the girl's uncanny resemblance to the Slayer that kept him steadfast in her arms. But the longer he held her, the less credence he gave to that particular line of thought. It was an alien feeling he felt holding her. In truth, he was put more in mind of Dawn.

The four months that Buffy was…gone…had been tough on all the Scoobies. After a while, they dealt with the cards they were given and moved on. Maybe not totally, but further along then he himself had. How could he? He had promised to protect her and he had failed. If it weren't for Dawn and the pain she was in, William the Bloody would have been dust many months ago. Though he never told her, Dawn had been his anchor, lest he would have drowned. There were many nights when it was just the two of them, talking, sometimes laughing. Then there were the nights when words got in the way and the silence of being alone in their grief bonded them further. He had lost count how many times Dawn had fallen asleep in his lap, sometimes watching a movie, sometimes crying herself to sleep. Though he had never cried in front of her, she knew what he was going through like only a friend could. She never pushed for him to talk about Buffy and for that he made sure he was always there for her.

Strangely, that was the same feeling this petite woman in his arms inspired. He felt her strength yet she was so lost. And for some reason, she had picked him to be her lighthouse in the darkness.

Spike didn't know how long the embrace lasted, but finally the girl broke away, slowly, as if it pained her to move away. She tilted her head to the side, inches from his face and Spike looked into the depths of her blue-green eyes and in that moment he knew. She was his to protect and he would not fail her like he had Buffy.

"I…I…missed you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her left hand moved from around his neck and caressed his cheeks. She studied the lines of his face, tracing them with the tips of her fingers. "You're crying," she said wiping away the tears he didn't even know were there.

"Piffle," Spike said going for casual but failing miserably. His hands were still on the delicate hips of the girl and he wanted to let go. But he couldn't.

"You used to hold me like this when we danced," she said, her voice still thick with emotion. "And you used to sing to me. What was that song?"

"Look, baby bit," Spike started then stopped. Baby bit? He thought to himself. She, too, must have been thinking the same thing because her head dropped at those words. Her body shivered and the vampire knew she was on the verge of breaking down again. He didn't want to see that, but he didn't know what to say. It's not like he was Mr. Sensitivity and he was quite sure that his staple frankness was not the answer to alleviate the emotional viscosity of the room.

Spike took his hand and slowly lifted the chin of the grief-stricken girl. Every muscle in her trembled as if she would break apart. Her eyes, blurred by tears looked up into the face of the once killer. And unknown to Spike, what she saw there was someone who had sworn he'd protect her to the ends of the earth and not even death would separate them. Even in her grief now, she was reminded of a time outside of time when she was similarly distraught.

"Don't cry, my bit," he had say, his hand running up and down her back, soothing her. "Your mum will be back. She just had some things she needs to take care of." She had cried harder at that and he had continued to rock her.

"She…doesn't…lu..love me," she choked out, "not…like you do." She had felt his body tense at that. He had taken her chin into his hand-like he did now-and looked at her with those eyes that could melt you with its warmth or chill you to your very soul.

"Listen to me, luv," he had said, his voice stern, but tinged with…emotion? "Your mum loves you more than the world. She would do anything for you. She would kill for you. She would…" he had hesitated and then, just like now, she saw the fear and pain in his eyes, "die for you." The last words had come out in a whisper. It was that moment that he had released the hurt and anger and frustration and cried. She had forgotten her own pain and comforted him. Though she was only fifteen, still she was there. She had let him lament for hours. The emotions within him, held at bay for years, threatened to consume him until there was nothing left. She couldn't let that happen and said the only thing that she knew could slash through the stream of tears.

"She loves you," she had whispered in his ear. At first, it had only prodded him to cry harder but the sobs hushed to barely audible whimpers. "You know that. And she would never leave you. And if she did," she said and almost wanted to take it back when she felt his body stiffen. "She won't but if she did, it wouldn't be because she wanted to. It would be for a reason," the girl said comforting him, at the same time, quieting her own grief.

"What was it you told me? 'Nothing can ever keep us apart. Not the miles between or the years ahead of us. Not even death can keep us apart," she said…

"…Not even death," she said and buried her lips into the hollow of Spike's cheek.

As fate would have it, that was when Buffy walked into the room.