A/N: There were lots of questions in reviews, so I'll attempt to answer them…

First off, for "Cold Trust", thanks to all those who noticed that I got the name wrong… I'll add in a section at the end where Buffy corrects him for y'all to have a laugh at ;) (I knew I'd get it wrong. I've only seen the episode once; am I forgiven?)

Anyone who wants Anya/Giles: I'm not an A/G-er and as such am not entirely sure if I could write it. The fic is going to have several relationships explored, including some unexpected ones, so A/G will be thought about if not written. I'll see what I can do, but I promise nothing.

Darryl J – (still lovin' your fic, btw!) you asked that Spike kick Xander's arse. Your wish is my command. Actually, I had something planned along those lines…

To the "fan of my fiction", whoever you are – you want longer chapters?? I'm trying to cut them down!

FireLily and all the other B/S shippers – I'm gettin' to it! Remember how I said this was turning into a beast of a fic? Well, I'm not only Queen of Cliffhangers, but Queen of Angst (check out reviews for some of my "Farscape" stuff for proof :D), and Queen of Dragging Things Out Over Long Periods of Time. There will be fluff. Eventually. I'm just gonna make you all suffer for a while, first…

Anyway, here's Chapter 10, revamped and made longer. I have a penchant for big-eyed-Spike – you know, the kicked-puppy look – so just imagine this entire chapter with him ;) Enjoy =)

Chapter Ten

Buffy had long since given up worrying about her sister, and now, at eleven o'clock, she'd pretty much given up on staying awake, too. Dawn would come home when it suited her; Buffy had done the same at sixteen and really didn't have a right to reprimand her for it. In fact, Buffy had done the same without her mother knowing where she was, or that she was even out. At least she knew where Dawn was, or, at least, had a pretty good idea. So, having made sure that Giles and Anya were comfortable (he had decided to try and sleep in a chair in the end, leaving Anya to the couch), Buffy had announced 'lights out' in the house, and retreated to the momentarily safe haven of her bedroom.

She curled up into a protective ball under the covers and waited patiently for sleep to inevitably take over. Tonight, she was, thankfully, too exhausted to think about Spike - working double shifts did have some advantages other than the extra pay – and lying there, pleasantly not thinking about him, and only semi-worried about Dawn, Buffy drifted off into slumber…

The permeating blackness cleared from Spike's vision and was replaced by a slightly-less-blinding-than-before white light. This light then turned a very pleasant, calm shade of pale blue, then darkened to a deep navy, almost black again. A portal formed, and began to pull him in. Since all of this occurred literally in the blink of an eye, he had very little choice in the matter. The next thing he knew, the magic had ended and he was fully aware of what was happening.

What was happening turned out to be him falling through the air in a downwards direction, at great speed, hitting something soft, bouncing once, and landing in a heap on a hard floor almost immediately afterwards. He groaned, previously broken bones now aching even more from the impact, and attempted to work out where he was.

Buffy woke with a start when something heavy landed at the foot of her bed and bounced off, frightening the life out of her. She sat straight up, noticing the strange, bluish light in her ceiling and passing it off as the end of a dream, reached for a stake, then crawled cautiously to the end of the bed to find out what had woken her up. Whatever it was, it was groaning in agony, having lost an argument with the floor. She peered over the edge of the bed.

It was human-shaped, and male-shaped, and was curled into a ball with its (or his) back to her. The man was clad in black jeans, faded, and covered in sand, and his bare back was dotted with lacerations and burns. Then, she noticed the oh-so-familiar shock of bleached-blond hair and froze. It couldn't be…

Spike heard movement behind him and prepared himself to be attacked, turning his head to see his pursuer. He was met with the vision of Buffy about to stake him, and immediately raised his arms to fend off the impending blows. He lowered them after a couple of seconds when none came, and looked up.

Buffy found herself unable to move or to form a coherent thought. It was Spike. He was back. He'd fallen through her ceiling, and was now sprawled on her bedroom floor, shirtless and in pain, and staring up at her with a mixture of far too many emotions in his eyes. The most prominent emotion seemed to be confusion, mirroring her own expression exactly. She stared at him a long time, watching as he twisted his body around to kneel in front of her – he was obviously light-headed from whatever he'd been through and standing up was proving too difficult.

They gazed at each other for a long time, neither entirely certain what to say. Buffy briefly considered that she might be dreaming again, except that the pounding of her heart against her ribcage seemed to prove otherwise. Spike's dark eyes revealed nothing and everything about what he'd been through, telling more than the wounds on his chest and back ever could. There was also something else there, lurking… something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but which was horribly familiar just the same.

Spike waited for Buffy to make a move. He'd expected to be dumped somewhere in town, the cemetery, perhaps, or his crypt ideally. Being dropped straight into Buffy's room wasn't quite what he'd been expecting. Talk about into the lion's den. He knew the easiest and safest thing would have been to run, but at the moment it wasn't an option. Every limb still hurt; whatever the Hell he'd been sent through, it hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences.

Buffy finally dropped the stake, throwing it onto the bed behind her. With her nerves on edge as they were, she didn't want to run the risk of accidentally staking him. The wounds on his back had seemed bad, but those on his chest were far worse – even with his vampire healing, the cuts were deep, and the burns were still raw. There were even what looked like tiny bite marks – hundreds of them. Spike watched her as she looked him over, horror evident on her face.

She still wasn't entirely convinced that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. Very slowly, she reached out a hand towards him. Spike was curious, but didn't move just in case he frightened her off. Whatever her next action was going to be, it would define how they might continue, and they both needed to see it through.

Buffy's hand continued its slow journey towards him almost of its own volition; Buffy was as curious as him about what she was doing. All her brain could register at that moment was the fact that he was back; she felt completely numb inside and out, and entirely unsure what to do, at least on a conscious level. Her hand kept moving forwards. Finally, it came to rest on his cheek.

With her touch, Spike's resolve completely crumbled. It had been too long since he'd had any physical contact with her. He knew it was a stupid idea to do what he was about to do, but after everything he'd been through, for her, he couldn't care less. Despite the fact that his every muscle was screaming in agony, he covered her hand with his own, then, never tearing his gaze from hers, he very slowly leaned forwards to kiss her.

A split second after their lips met, Buffy's brain re-engaged and logic took over, and she pushed him away. Then, she started hitting him wherever she could reach, regardless of his wounds, shouting at him while she did so. "God dammit, Spike! Where the Hell have you been? And why are you back? Why now? Why here? And where have you been?!" Her tirade continued in much the same manner as she continued to slap him.

He managed to fend off most of the blows, wincing whenever she didn't miss. Her ranting eventually turned into nonsensical ramblings as a violent sobbing took over, and, with it, she weakened in her attack to such an extent that he was able to seize both her wrists and stop her. It was obvious that she wasn't going to stop crying any time soon, and if he didn't do something she'd end up making herself hyperventilate. So, somewhat nervously after her previous reaction, and ignoring the burning pain all over his chest, Spike pulled her into his arms.

"Shh," he muttered. "You're going to hurt yourself." He rubbed comforting circles on her back and she began to calm down. When her breathing had settled down, she spoke again, quieter, for the moment making no attempt to push away from him.

"Spike… seriously. Where've you been?"

He doubted she could handle it if he told her the truth just yet. "Doesn't matter. It'd take too long to explain, anyway."

Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on her, enjoying the feel of his arms being around her. Then, apparently simultaneously, they both remembered the last time they'd seen each other – in her bathroom – and he let go of her at the same time as she pushed him off. This resulted in Spike getting to his feet, and Buffy propelling herself backwards across the bed. She stared at him with a similar expression in her eyes as before, mixed with curiosity as she tried to figure out what it was that was different.

Spike's guilt came back four-fold, with the added bonus of the soul making him relive the moment word for word, action for action. He didn't move.

Buffy got up from the bed, her eyes never leaving him for fear of him vanishing like he had in the dream. She opened a drawer in her dresser, rummaged around in it briefly, and pulled out something. "Here," she said, throwing it to him. "Take that, and get out." He examined the item – it was, to his surprise, one of his tee-shirts. Before he could question exactly why she had one, she repeated, "I said, get out."

"But-"

"Spike," she frowned. "I can't… I can't do this now, okay?"

"Buffy… please. There's something I have to tell you; it's important."

"No. You cannot just… just fall back into my life and expect me to listen to you. We will talk. Later. But not now, and not here. Just take your shirt and go." She kept her voice low and calm, but they both knew she was close to breaking again. When Spike didn't move, she went to the door and opened it for him, giving him a look that implied if he didn't leave of his own volition, she'd make leave by force.

"Fine." He pulled the shirt over his head. "But we will talk, Slayer. I'm going to hold you to that."

She nodded vaguely and indicated the landing and the stairs beyond. "Don't wake anyone up on your way out." Her obvious dismissal hurt him, and she could tell, but it was too late to take it back. Grudgingly, Spike headed downstairs, Buffy following him a few steps behind.

When he reached the bottom, before he could open the front door, it opened for him, and Dawn came through. She'd not yet mastered climbing back up to her window. She froze in the doorway, not sure whether to fear her sister's wrath, or have some kind of reaction to Spike's sudden presence in the house. She chose the latter, ignoring her sister completely.

"S-Spike…?"

"Yes, Nibblet… 's me."

She swallowed. All the way home, she'd been thinking over the same things as before – missing him, wondering why he'd left, doubting his loyalty, hating him for what he'd nearly done to Buffy, and, since Clem's revelation, paranoid he was going to turn on them all. However, looking at him in front of her, big-eyed and obviously recovering from some terrible ordeal, she instantly dismissed that idea. Having him here, however, was too much for her to deal with and she could think of nothing else to say except: "I… uh… looked after this for you." She took off his duster, then dropped it at his feet before running up the stairs and locking herself in her room.

"Dawn!" called both Buffy and Spike, simultaneously.

At this point, several things happened which resulted in all hell breaking loose in the Summers' house. Firstly, the slamming of Dawn's bedroom door (and before that, the shouting in Buffy's room) had woken up Xander and Willow, and they were now making their way down the staircase. In the lounge, the commotion near the front door had woken Giles and Anya. Every adult member of the Scoobies instantly assembled in the hallway, more or less surrounding Spike and forming a somewhat protective circle behind Buffy, even though they didn't realise it.

Anya was the first to react, her gaze blank. "We were talking about you earlier," she said. "But don't worry. The topic of our sleeping together didn't come up. In fact, it's something none of us would like to remember." Spike looked at her, embarrassed and guilty, unable to think of anything to say, before tearing his gaze away. Unfortunately, the next person he focussed on happened to be Xander.

"So, the Peroxide Wonder finally dragged his sorry ass back to Sunnydale…" he said. "You're damn lucky I don't have a stake on me, Spike. Damn lucky…"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Whelp," muttered Spike, suddenly much more eager to leave.

"Oh. Name-calling. How mature," retorted Xander, rather pointlessly.

Giles, standing close to Anya and directly behind Buffy, stopped yet another argument before it could happen. "Xander…" The accused backed off, and Giles turned to Spike, disdain evident in his eyes. "Now listen here, Spike. I know what's been happening; I know everything. And if you so much as lay a finger on any of these girls-" (he indicated with his head to encompass Buffy, Anya, Willow, and Dawn upstairs) "-I will personally drive a stake through your undead heart."

Nobody had ever seen Giles so murderously protective before, not even Spike, and they were all slightly unnerved. Buffy gave her Watcher a warning look to imply she could fight her own battles with Spike. The vampire took a step closer to the door, shrugging into his duster as he did so. "You'll all be pleased to know I was just leavin'." He opened the door wider, and added, sarcastically: "And thanks for the welcome wagon. 'Preciate it."

Before leaving, he looked at each of them in turn, taking in the loathing on both Xander's and Giles' faces, Anya's blank expression as she avoided his eyes – she'd seen the change in him if nobody else had, and knew what it was – and Buffy's face while she attempted to sort out her feelings. He stared at her a long time, then said, "As for you, love – we need to talk. I'll be waiting…" Finally, he looked at Willow, who'd said nothing throughout. She gave him a small, weak, but genuine smile, and waved one hand in a gesture of farewell. After all, he'd done nothing to her. Spike smiled back, glad that someone wasn't set to kill him, before leaving, closing the door after him.

Everybody watched the door close in silence. Then, every eye in the room turned to Buffy, awaiting an explanation. She sighed. "Everyone just go back to bed. I have to talk to Dawn."

"But-"

"Don't say a word, Xander. I'll… I'll try and explain in the morning, but right now, I have something more important to do." With that, she pushed through their human (and demon) wall and headed upstairs, knocked quietly on Dawn's door, then disappeared inside the room. The rest of the Scoobies all looked at each other with varying expressions of confusion, but said nothing.

It was Willow who broke the eerie silence. "Buffy's right. We should all g-go back to sleep."

"You think I can sleep knowing Bleach Boy was here?" asked Xander. "His very presence disgusts me."

"I know, but… h-he's been through a lot, Xander; can't you tell? Didn't you see his eyes?"

"No," he muttered, semi-comically. "I was too busy trying to make his head explode with the power of my mind."

The ex-Wiccan smiled at his humour, then continued, casting her gaze on Anya as she did so. "There's something different… I-I don't know what, exactly, but…"

"Willow's right," clarified the justice demon. "Spike's very different now. He's-"

"Whatever it is," interrupted Giles, "I'm sure he'll tell us in his own time, or Buffy will. And I agree – we should all try and go back to sleep and let Buffy deal with this in her own way."

There was a collective nod of agreement, and the group separated, Willow and Xander heading back upstairs, and Giles and Anya returning to the living room. They'd all forgotten how much fun it was having Spike around. Normality had returned to their lives along with him, and pretty soon things would start feeling like old times again…

Spike threw open the door to his crypt with such force that it banged on the wall and frightened the life out of Clem, who was fast asleep in the chair, a re-run of Passions playing on the television. He'd been right – Spike definitely made a big entrance. The demon got up just as Spike slammed the door again and dropped heavily down into the basement of his still rather charred crypt, his expression bleak and apparently incredibly annoyed. Before saying anything, he rooted around in the pocket of his duster, and, relieved, pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He lit up gratefully and took a long drag, his mood lightening slightly as he did so.

Clem broke the ice, raising a hand in greeting. "Hey, buddy."

"Clem," Spike said, nodding.

"I kept the place nice 'n' tidy for you."

Spike looked around, took in the empty chicken buckets, and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. So I see…"

Clem immediately set about tidying them up, muttering. "Was gonna get rid of those…" He collected them all, deposited them behind the television out of sight, and smiled sheepishly. "So, um… how did it go? Get your chip out?"

Spike merely glared. Then, realising Clem couldn't read his mind, he explained. "No. Bloody shaman got it wrong, didn't he?"

"So… he left it in?"

The vampire nodded, tossing the cigarette at a wall, bored of it despite the fact he'd been craving one for weeks. He just didn't have the energy. "Not only that, the soddin' idiot gave me a soul to go with it. As if bein' Love's Bitch wasn't bad enough already…"

"A soul?"

"A soul."

Clem looked sympathetic. He'd had the unfortunate experience of having to listen to a drunken Spike rambling on about Angel's brooding, and how he swore he'd never be like that. It now seemed to be becoming something of a reality. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Whoa… buddy… that's… real bad. But, hey, if y'ever need to brood, I won't tell anyone."

"Damn right you bloody won't." Clem smiled; at least he hadn't lost his sense of humour. "Do me a favour, mate. If I ever end up like Peaches, bein' all high-and-mighty and trying to save the world, promise me you'll cut my head off."

"Only if I can live here afterwards," he said, thoughtfully.

Spike shook his hand. "You got yourself a deal, Clement."

An awkward silence descended, then Clem started rambling. "Uh… Dawn was here earlier. I had to tell her where you were, but… I think she took it okay. Said she was looking after your… oh, well, she must have given it back… so that means you've seen her already?" Spike nodded, just about getting the gist of what he was on about. "Right. So that means you've spoken to the Slayer, too?"

He nodded again. "Well, 'spoken to' is probably too strong an expression. 'Fell through her ceiling and scared the life out of her then tried to kiss her' is probably nearer the mark."

"Huh?"

"The shaman. He sent me back. Right back. Straight into Buffy's room, of all places." Clem nodded, the "oh" implied. "She wouldn't even talk to me. Can't say I blame her, though. Think I scared the Nibblet half to death, too."

"Nah…" The soft voice came from behind him, causing him to tense. "She was just surprised to see you."

Spike, however, was even more surprised to hear what he'd just heard. This was exactly the last thing he'd been expecting. Without turning around, found his voice, and stammered, "B-Buffy…?"

To be continued…

Meep… Sorry. Don't hurt me. I was going to have the B/S conversation at the end of this chapter, but as I type this author's note, it's still not done and it's ALREADY too long, so I'll make it the entire of chapter 11 instead… But this'll do to whet your appetites; a sneak preview:

"Anyway. I thought it was all to do with that bloody chip. The guilt… being in love with you… all of it. So I went to Africa to see this shaman bloke and asked him to make me what I was, so I could give you what you deserved."

She looked incredulous, having read between the lines and come to the logical conclusion. "You went to get the chip out?"

"Short of ripping out my undead heart, Buffy, what else could I do?" His tone was bitter as he said this, and she winced, only slightly. It was still enough that he noticed, however, and he carried on, owing her an explanation. "So, he put me through a load of trials; all sorts of things. Fighting big buggers with torches, beetle swarms - you name it, I probably went through it." Realisation dawned, as the scars she'd seen suddenly made sense.

"God…"

There… just a taster for what's to come :D Meanwhile, keep the reviews rolling!