Warning - This chapter has a bit of a spoiler from season 7's "Lessons," but I've tweaked the timeline. Instead of it being the end of summer/beginning of next school year, it's about the beginning of summer break.

A/N: Quick note of thanks to all my reviewers thus far – Watermelonz, Darklover, Dragonqueen12, Lissa5, Kev, Shinna and Spikealicious and sorry for the delays in updates. I've been having ideas all over the place for vids and fics and I've got a touch of add lately with everything I do. I'll start something think of something else start the something else think of something else do that something else then remember I have other things in the works that need finishing and waste lots of time debating which thing to get back to work on first.

Spikealicious, thanks for the holiday wishes and I hope your Thanksgiving was good. Early wishes for happy holidays ahead. :-)

Kev, I'll take the song lyrics out from here on out, 'cause they are pretty pointless and getting more so as I find it impossible to really sync them up with what I'm writing. All chapters will continue to be subtitled with songs that are pretty much inspiring what I write in each installment, though. I'll just put in a note to cite the artist who recorded the song in case anyone wants to check it out.

That said this chapter is inspired greatly by lyrics from Puddle of Mudd's song "Blurry."

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Blurry

It took her a solid month to go near his crypt and the only reason Buffy was there right now was because of the stupid fledgling who ran in that direction before tripping up and letting her dust the damned thing. She stands a few feet away from the stone monument brushing the vampire's dusty remains from her clothes and tucking away the stake she'd used to slay it.

The place looked just like she remembered it. Not that she'd really expected it to change just because …

He wasn't in it, a voice finishes quietly inside her head causing her heart to do that annoyingly familiar twisting thing in her chest that seemed to happen even more frequently every day instead of easing like it should be with the time that passed.

She tells herself yet again that that ache was not her missing him.

What was there to miss? His taunts or punches or constant and annoying presence or the piece de resistance – his sleeping with her friends. Her eyes squeeze shut at the sting of that memory.

Shaking her head to clear those wasted thoughts she turns and prepares to leave the cemetery then wrap up this patrol when sounds from within the crypt reach her ears.

His television's on, she recognizes the noise and slowly turns back to face the tomb. He's watching TV.

Telling herself that she was just going to tell him to get the hell back out of town and ignoring the stinging thought that he had returned without seeking her out the second his feet touched Sunnydale soil again, she creeps toward the door to the crypt. Hesitantly she places a hand on the wooden barrier and focuses her senses on detecting his presence on the other side, needing to feel that connection with him again that she had felt the last time she stood on this side of the door like this. But none of her senses are telling her that Spike is anywhere nearby.

With a frown at the lack of that distinct tingling of her spidy sense that lets her know he's the demony thing lurking beyond her vision she pulls back to stare at the crypt's entrance in confusion. The confusion clears and quickly turns into a furious glare at the idea of something else having the gall to move into Spike's place.

She kicks in the door without even realizing it until she was stomping through the splintered remains.

"Show yourself," she commands as her eyes scan the inner chamber and sees the television on with a bucket of Buffalo wings sitting on the floor next to Spike's armchair, but doesn't see the culprit.

"Slayer?" a familiar voice sighs with relief from the other side of the sarcophagus she and Spike had made love and laid on together the last good moment they had had together. "Geez, you scared me," Clem stands up, scratching at one of his floppy ears.

"Clem?" she frowns at the demon. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm staying here now," he moves over to the armchair and picks up his food. "Want some?" he extends the greasy bucket toward her and she shakes her head distractedly. "Didn't Dawn tell you?"

"Dawn? Tell me what?" she looks at him in confusion.

"That I'm staying here," he waves for her to have a seat in the chair, shuts the tv off and settles himself on the coffin he'd hid behind.

"Why would she tell me that?"

"She stopped by after Spike left. Kinda didn't believe he was gone until she saw it herself. I talked to her some," he explains while fishing out a wing to eat on.

"She's been here?"

"Just twice. That time and last week to watch a Real World marathon with me. We played some Parcheesi despite her wanting to play poker. She's a great kid," he gives her a friendly smile. "You're really doing a great job with her all things considered."

"Uh-huh," she flops down in the chair and stares at him. "Thanks. So … what do you mean you're staying here now?"

"Sweet pad like this," he looks around the sparsely furnished yet well lit and somehow welcoming crypt, "goes empty for a few days and someone else is bound to claim it so Spike asked me to watch it for him. Plus," his gaze lands on the television and he grins, "I don't have TV or cable at my place."

"So you're just watching the place for him?" she relaxes as a kind of relief floods through her. "Until he comes back," she looks at the loose skinned demon and tries not to show any telling emotions. "When will he be coming back?"

"He didn't say," Clem finishes off the wing and drops the bone back into his bucket before pulling out another one to eat. "I kinda got the impression that he'll be gone for a while if he ever comes back."

"If he ever …," she repeats quietly with her eyes widening at hearing someone actually say something along those lines in her presence. "He's coming back," she says firmly to herself and the demon. "He has to come back," she whispers for her ears only.

"He said he would and I guess he will for his stuff if nothing else, but I really don't think this is a good place for him to be anymore. I think he's realized it, too. He seemed pretty done with it all when he left," he goes on eating and casually speaking about things that are causing her guts to burn and churn like she's developing an ulcer. "I've known him a long time now, but I've never seen him like that before."

"Like … what?" she has to know if he saw the same Spike she had that night.

"Angry for the most part, but that was really covering the hurt. He was just torn up inside and …," Clem answers easily then pauses thoughtfully, "and defeated I think is the word I'm looking for. I've never seen him so close to giving up before and he's really had some hard times in all his years. I mean, Drusilla … need I say more? It's hard to believe a little thing like the Slayer could …," he trails off and goes completely still as he remembers who he's talking to, "could … um … do such incredibly good things for humanity."

"Yeah," she smiles weakly at the lame attempt to cover up what he'd been about to say. "I should be going now," she rises and moves slowly toward the door.

"You thought I was him, didn't you?" she stops in her tracks at the quiet words. "That's why you came in."

"No. I knew it wasn't him," she looks at the broken door in front of her then turns to the demon with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem," he assures her then tips his head curiously to the side. "Why'd you barge in then?"

"I just didn't want someone else trying to take his place," she answers after a moment of thoughtful silence and the smile fades when the words take on a different meaning inside herself as she hears them from her own lips.

"You miss him, too, don't you?" Clem asks as she averts her gaze to the floor.

"Too?" she looks back up a bit surprised.

"No, not me," he shakes his head slowly with a grin at her expression. "Although, poker's not as fun with his lame attempts at cheating. I meant Dawn. She puts on a brave face when she comes over, but I can tell she's expecting him to walk back in like he's just been out for a stroll," he looks into her eyes. "Same as you were doing."

Finding herself unable to deny that no matter how much part of her wanted to she simply turns on her heel and moves quickly from the crypt.

~*~*~

Two nights later Buffy stood back and watched Dawn take on her first vampire alone. The fledgling was a rather sad excuse for evil, having needing the Slayer's help from his grave claiming to have had his foot caught on a root or something in the ground, but he was more than enough challenge for the teenager.

With a rather impressive move for a rookie Dawn flips the vamp onto his back and plunges the stake she's holding into his chest. Unfortunately she makes the rookie mistake of missing the heart and the tables quickly turn with the fledgling grabbing the teenager from behind and taking his fangs to her neck.

"Buffy," her sibling cries out as the sharp incisors pierce her flesh and the Slayer springs into action.

She yanks the jerk away from her sister, delivers a few punches and kicks to confuse him then pulls her sword from where she had it planted in the ground and cuts the thing's head off.

"It's real," she puts the weapon aside and moves to Dawn's side as soon as the dust clears. "That's the best lesson you can learn from all this," she continues her tutorial on the fine art of slaying. "Every time you enter one of these situations, it's real. Real fighting, real pain, real bleeding and real likelihood of dying. Never forget that."

"It's just a scrape," Dawn says, pulling away when the blonde moves to check her neck. "Plus," she gets to her feet and states glibly, "I had a plan the whole time."

"Oh really?" Buffy asks skeptically with a genuine smile as she begins packing up the weapons they'd used patrolling.

"Ya-huh," the brunette grabs her share of stakes and they move on to finish their sweep of the cemetery, "I planned to get killed, come back as a vampire and bite you."

"You wanted to be trained," she reminds the girl.

"Trained, yes. Offered up to a vampire by my very own sister," Dawn says sulkily.

"I didn't offer you up to him," green eyes roll at the very idea, "I was right there the whole time to make sure nothing seriously bad happened."

"You told him he could have my blood," they stop and blue eyes glare at her just a bit.

"I meant he could try to get your blood. Had to give him incentive to actually take part in the training session."

"Same difference," the teenager flips her long brown hair back over her shoulder and resumes walking.

"You did good," Buffy concedes, proud of her sibling's efforts.

"I did? Really? 'Cause, you know, with the whole rolling thing I was actually using his own strength against him and it was very tai chi."

"Yeah, I saw that. It helped you get the upper hand pretty quickly," the Slayer compliments. "You just kind of lost it just as fast."

"Well, yeah," her sister cringes a bit in embarrassment at that fact. "I nearly had his heart, though."

"Close like that only counts in horseshoes," she points out, silently reminding the girl that this isn't a game. "My first time out," she confesses at her sibling's crestfallen expression, "I missed the heart, too."

"No way," Dawn practically glows at that revelation.

"Just that once," she replies cockily.

For several moments they walk along in a comfortable silence, really just strolling through the dark graveyard without paying much attention to their surroundings. Demon activity in town had dropped massively since … in the past month or so making patrols rather boring of late which was why Buffy had finally given in to her sister's pleading to start training. Plus, it was good quality bonding time that was guaranteed to keep the teenager out of trouble over the summer break from school.

"How much longer do you think he'll be gone?"

The hesitant question stopped Buffy in her tracks and without looking around she knew exactly where they were.

Spike's crypt.

"You don't still have that crush on him, do you?" she asks her sibling, remembering Clem's allusion to the fact that the girl was also waiting for the bleached blonde vamp's return to Sunnydale.

"Big no on that," Dawn declares like the very idea's absurd beyond words. "The whole Buffybot thing cured me of any romantic warm fuzzies for him, but … when you were gone he was … he was my friend and kinda like a big brother and I miss that. I hadn't been able to really hang out with him after you came back, but he was still here if I needed him or wanted to talk to him but now … Don't you miss him?"

"Sometimes," she answers quietly, her green eyes finally resting on the familiar tomb.

"How 'bout we go see what Clem's up to?"

"I wonder where he is," the teenager says, ignoring her big sister's body language that spoke of a major not wanting of this discussion. "Do you ever wonder what he's doing?"

All the time, Buffy thinks with a last look at his crypt before silently turning and walking toward home with her sister falling silent as she jogged to keep up.

~*~*~

"This isn't a safe place for sweet young things like you to play at night," a voice drawls from the alley's dark shadows, causing the lone woman walking through the passage to freeze in her tracks.

"Who's there?" the chit looks around herself nervously with her hands clutching at her purse strap.

"Just one of the many nasty things that go bump in this night, luv," Spike slowly emerges from his hiding place with a predatory expression on his face. "Didn't your mum or da warn you 'bout big bad wolves who prey on nummy li'l treats like you?"

"What do you want?" the girl stumbles fearfully away from him toward the street. "I've no money, but you can have my purse," she slides the strap from her shoulder and shakily offers him the bag.

"Tha's good, but beasties like me," he vamps out and moves quickly to snatch her around the waist pull her hard to his chest before she can think to run, "we've not much use for accessories."

Her scream was stifled by his palm as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, relishing the way fear of him made her blood pump faster through her lithe little body. The rich ruby red liquid he knows to be thrumming through the delicate veins so near his deadly fangs calls to his demon and he can practically taste it. All he had to do was turn his head a tiny bit and his elongated incisors would be cutting through her flesh like a hot knife through butter and the hunger inside him would be satisfied. The demon would be pacified for a while.

Then he feels a tear touch the hand he has over her mouth, feels her pleas for mercy against his palm and the terrified shaking of her body against his. The intoxicating thrill of her fear fades away along with his vampire façade as his bloody soul once again fills his mind with images of the thousands he has slaughtered like this over the past century and he knows he cannot add another innocent life to that collection. Cursing fluently in several human and demon languages he hurls the chit away from him and stalks back into the dark shadows with his leather duster flapping angrily around his legs. Vaguely he hears a choked sob followed by rapidly fleeing footsteps down the alley behind him and he curses again as another meal gets away without him even sampling it.

"Bloody had it with this," he snarls while searching in his coat pockets for his cigarettes and lighter as he trudges out onto the main street and makes his way down the sidewalk to the address he's been haunting for over a week now.

He leans back against a darkened shop front and stares up at the apartment across the street, debating yet again the merits of entering the building and knocking on that door. There was nothing that stuck in his craw more than asking him for help again, but as had been the case those other times Spike was in a bloody inconceivable jam and the prat was the only one he could think of to be able to help.

He'd tried to tackle the bloody demon who did this only to find that the bastard had relocated while the vampire recovered from his trials with the help of the village chieftain. After that he'd spent weeks verifying that the chip was no longer present to keep him from hurting humans, killing them if he wanted too, but the bloody soul had been making it's presence felt the whole damned time and he found he didn't want to kill and maim like the good old days.

Who the hell was he trying to kid, he asks himself bitterly while watching the poof move around his apartment. It wasn't the bloody soul stopping him. He'd been stopping himself since he fell in love with Buffy and now he just didn't have a taste for it.

"Just what I deserve for going to a buggering demon for a solution," he says aloud to himself and growls menacingly at the couple walking past him at the particular moment. "Right there," he inhales a deep puff of smoke and exhales it slowly while watching the pair scurry past, "perfect example. If the bloody pillock had done what I asked he'd," he glares after the man, "be dinner and she'd be dessert for me," he watches moodily as the duo disappear around a corner. "But no," he puffs again angrily at his cigarette, "the bleedin' bastard had to give me another bloody test. 'Take what you've been given and see if you're still a dark warrior or if you'll go another way,'" he mocks the final words he'd heard the demon speak after restoring his soul. "Can't go another bloody way, mate, I'm a vampire," he growls angrily, as if the thing were there with him. "Meant to be evil," he throws down his fag and exchanges vices by pulling his flask of whiskey out and taking a gulp of the burning alcohol. "I asked for the evil. Wanted Dru to turn me from that pathetic tosser I'd been into her dark prince. But this," he laughs scornfully at himself, drawing worried and fearful glances from passersby at his apparent madness. "Didn't ask for a damned bit of this. Didn't want that damned Slayer in my heart or the bloody chip in my head and I sure as hell don't want this bleeding soul back. Rubbish is all that is," he slides down the wall to sit on the sidewalk and glare up at the window he was watching. "Don't you think for a bloody second," he snarls up at the apartment as if it's occupant can actually hear him, "that I'm gonna be like the damned poof with this thing inside me. Soul's nothing but smoke and mirrors and I can still be evil if I want with or without it," he empties his flask and sighs at the loss of liquor. "Just my bloody luck."

He'd have some good stuff, Spike thinks as he reaches for another cigarette while staring up at the window.

Christ, but he hated asking this one for help again.

Not that the bastard was all that likely to help him out. He'll most likely get staked for knocking on the damned door and then the pillock will stop to wonder what the hell he'd wanted. Or if the wanker even heard him out it'll be Dustville for Spike the second the 'no longer chipped' bit of news is revealed.

Chip had to have fried some vital brain cells judging by the stupid decisions he'd been making of late, he lit the fag and began puffing away at it. Only explanation that made sense for him coming here for help. Hell, he gives a bark of scoffing laughter, only bloody explanation that made sense for him even remembering this address.

"Enough of this," he pushes back to his feet with a snarl, crushes the cigarette beneath the heel of a boot, brushes off his duster then stalks purposefully across the street and into the apartment complex.

He stomps up the stairs to the second story flat his target is in, rakes his hand through the unruly curls of the hair he's been allowing to grow out, tries to make himself look 'presentable' then takes a deep breath and raps his knuckles against the door. His ears pick up strains of some bloody boring symphony and he rolls his blue eyes impatiently before curling his fingers into a fist and pounding a few times on the wooden barrier to be heard over the music. Footsteps are soon heard inside, approaching the door and he can sense someone on the other side looking out through the peephole at him.

"I need your help," he sighs a moment later when the door is opened and a cross shoved in his face. "Please," he stands up straight and looks the man in the eyes uncaring that he's begging, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't serious."