Things Change
Chapter Two

He shook his head hard to rid himself of the image. Not her, not her, he told himself. Wrong, wrong, wrong. With a jolt he realised he was slipping.

"Spike, focus," Lydia tapped his face and grabbed his chin hard to force him to look at her. "Stop it!"

"I hurt her!" he moaned.

"You did," she answered brutally. "But you want to make it right, don't you?"

He looked at her, the long jet-black hair and brown eyes. He nodded.

"Then you need to get a grip, Spike," she told him.

He almost smiled as he pictured her sitting beside him on the kerb, frowning at him, telling him to get a hold of himself. He missed her and he had promised her he would make it right. That was the only reason he had come back weeks after Lydia's death.

"You have to see her, Spike," she had rasped.

"Lydia," he snapped. "Would you shut up? Save your strength."

"I'm fine," she answered. "I could still whup your ass if I wanted to. Now you listen to me, you brain dead wanker, when I die - "

"Lydia," he cut in softly. "Don't. You are not goin' to die."

"Funny," she smiled. "I can see the bright light, I'm going towards the light."

"Don't joke about it!" he burst out.

"What do you want, Spike, huh? Want me to whimper and whine about how I don't want to die, I want to live? Forget it. People die, Spike, you know it, I know it, deal with it. Now, when I die, you get the hell back to Sunnydale and you tell Buffy you're sorry."

"Then what?" he asked. "How am I s'posed to know what to do if you aren't there?"

"You'll know. I never intended to go with you anyway. You can make your apologies and leave, or you could stay. It's really down to you," her fingers had clenched on thin air and he grabbed her hand with both of his to reassure her, squeezed it and kissed her knuckles. "Promise me, Spike, promise me you'll do this. If I know you will, then I know you can live in peace."

The desperation in her voice killed him and he met her eyes. He almost jerked away when he saw the fear in them.

"I promise, doll," he had said, "but please don't go. I need you."

"I love you, Spike."

"I love you too," her eyes had fluttered shut, but the small smile on her face told him she had heard.

It was the first and last time he had ever told her he loved her.

He lit a cigarette and clenched his jaw to stop the repetitive thoughts stumbling around his head and crashing into each other.

He took a long drag then threw the cigarette away. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his head. He so wasn't ready for this. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, so to speak. He really hadn't been thinking clearly when he loaded up the car and drove back to Sunnydale.

He should've just stuck with the car. He should have kept the car and ignored Sunnydale, now there was a plan. Lydia had been shocked when he had said he was going back to Sunnydale for the car a year after she had found him nearly seventeen years ago. Daft now he thought about it, but he hadn't been thinking clearly at the time. So he had dragged Lydia and her car back to Sunnydale. They didn't stay long, barely an hour. They found the car and left, despite Lydia's protests.

He hadn't seen the Slayer, her sister or her friends. He'd been happy about it at the time, now he just wished he had gone to the Slayer, said sorry and left. But he hadn't.

This was stupid, she had moved on, he - in his own way - had also moved on. Coming back here was senseless.

He stood up and kicked at a stone. Ah, hell. He wandered along the street, hands jammed into his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

"Oh, my God."

He froze, his upper body swaying forward at his sudden halt. Then he carried on walking; ignoring the hurrying footsteps that chased him.

"Spike!" the woman grabbed his arm and pulled him to a sharp halt.

He looked down at her and frowned.

Buffy had been unchanged. Huh, maybe the Peter Pan theory - the one coherent and sensible thought that had flitted briefly through his mind - had been wrong. Him, wrong, who knew? He regained his focus and stared at the woman.

Her hair was short and the familiar red, slightly curled, her hazel eyes identical to how he remembered. Her clothing was more mature and the faint lines beginning to appear around her eyes betrayed her age.

"Willow?" he asked.

"C'mon, Mom," Chrissy said, pacing in front of her mother who was seated in shock on the stairs. "Who the hell is Spike?"

"Chrissy, since when did you start training as an Inquisitor?" Todd asked.

"Cut the History crap, Todd," she answered. "I just wanna know who the bleached guy is, turning up on our doorstep after midnight, and why Mom suddenly goes catatonic at the sight of him."

"Chrissy," Buffy said quietly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Your mother's right," Edward agreed. "Go on up to bed."

"But why won't you tell us?" Chrissy pressed, ignoring Edward.

"Because it's none of your damned business!" Buffy yelled and jumped up. "It was a long time ago, Christina, and it happened to me, not you!"

Buffy pressed a hand to her mouth and turned to run up the stairs, but Todd blocked her path.

"Mom, we didn't mean - "

"I know, I know," Buffy nodded. "I'm sorry, Chrissy."

Chrissy nodded and folded her arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry," she answered quietly.

"But couldn't you tell us who he was, Mom?" Todd asked.

"Todd," she warned and he nodded, knowing that when his mother used that tone of voice, it was time to back off.

She eased past Todd and when she reached the hallway, broke into a run. She slammed the door behind her and slid down the door, tears running down her face as she tried desperately to wipe them away.

She wasn't crying for him, she wasn't crying for him, it wasn't right, she shouldn't cry for him.

Then a thought so terrible that it made her stomach churn hit her: What if he had come back to hurt her? What if he had come back to hurt her children?

What if she had to stake him?

A thousand times, she had pledged to her friends that he wouldn't last long if he came back to Sunnydale.

A thousand times she had cried herself to sleep when she remembered the point when everything had gone so very wrong.

A thousand times, she had hated him.

And a thousand times, she had begged the Powers to bring him home to her.

What if she had to stake him?

Even after everything - the sex, the insults, the times he had helped her, hindered her, made her delirious with joy and weep with self loathing - even after all that, she knew deep down that couldn't stake him.

She never could and she couldn't now.

"You went ape-shit?" Spike asked.

"Not quite how I would have put it," Willow answered. "But yeah."

"And Xander stopped you with yellow crayons and love?"

"Yup."

"That's very sad."

Willow laughed and shook her head at him.

"You haven't changed," she sighed, breathless from her fit of laughter.

"Yes, I have, Red," he replied and drew invisible patterns on the table with his index finger.

"You mean the soul?"

He started and his finger jabbed across the table in a sharp motion.

"Soul?" he asked. "What soul?"

"Giles took me to England," she said, instead of answering the question. "And taught me to live with my magic. I opened a door, Spike, one that couldn't be totally closed. I don't do magic much, I'll do the odd spell every now and then to help out, but mainly I have a higher level of understanding. I can see your soul, Spike. I can see your pain too," she lowered her gaze for a second, before asking. "Who was she?"

"My salvation," he answered quietly.

"I get that," Willow smiled.

"I'm sorry," Spike muttered after a short silence.

"For what?"

"Tara," Willow flinched at her name and he lowered his eyes. "I just meant… She was a nice person, I didn't really know her, but she was nice and I know she loved you. Maybe if I hadn't left, I could've done something."

"No, you couldn't," Willow sighed. "It was just one of those things."

"I hate them things," he said.

"I hear ya," she returned.

"Will," he asked quietly. "How did it happen?"

"I told you," she said, frowning. "Tara… died and I lost it. Then Xander saved the world with love and Crayola."

"I wasn't talking 'bout that, Red, I was referring to the Slayer. How did she…" he gulped hard and took a deep breath. "Was it painful? Was there a reason or did a vamp just get lucky? Have himself one good day?" he spat out the last words, remembering a night almost eighteen years ago when he told her she had a death wish.

"What are you talking about - " Willow's eyes widened. "Oh. Spike, Buffy isn't dead."

"Then the jailbird's dead, right?" Spike asked quickly.

"Faith? No," Willow shook her head. "Spike, where did you get the idea Buffy was dead?"

"I saw…" he ran his hands over his head. "I saw a Slayer! All chipper with the hacking and staking. I know a Slayer when I see one, Red!"

"You saw - " Willow lowered her eyes. "Buffy's not dead. You said you saw her."

"I thought I was imagining it," he answered gruffly. "I thought I was slipping. That's why I ran. If that wasn't a Slayer I saw, then what the hell was she?"

"That's not for me to say," Willow hedged. "But Buffy is not dead. She's not going to die."

"It's in her job description," he snapped.

"Spike!" she gasped and stood up. "If you're going to talk like that, you can get out, understand?"

"Sorry, but I just don't understand."

"Spike, Buffy's half-demon," she lowered herself into her seat again. "And it's my fault."

"Spike's back?" Dawn asked, unsure whether to summon the hate she had felt about his attempted rape of Buffy, or the joy she always knew she would feel if he ever returned.

"Sshh," Buffy hissed and tiptoed to the door of the kitchen.

"I thought Chrissy and Todd were at school?" Dawn asked.

"But Edward's around," Buffy answered and shut the door. "I don't want him to know."

"But you're going to tell the twins, right?"

"No," Buffy said firmly. "They don't need to know about it."

"They have a right to know who their fath-"

"Aunt Dawn!"

Buffy widened her eyes at Dawn, who immediately snapped her mouth shut and opened her arms to engulf her niece and nephew.

"It's so great to see you!" Dawn said, hugging them tightly.

"Oh my God!" Chrissy cried. "I have to show you this really cool dagger I got," she flitted out of the room and could be heard running up the stairs.

"Why don't you go help her, Todd?" Buffy suggested.

"It's just a dagger - " he started.

"Todd," she warned in the same tone she had used the previous night.

"Going, going," he backed away to the door. "Gone."

Buffy clicked the door shut after him.

"I've forgotten about him, Dawn," Buffy said firmly. "And I don't want him brought up again."

She turned away from her sister and opened the refrigerator to look for something to eat. Dawn stood up from her seat and put her hands on her hips, frowning at her sister's back.

"Then why did you call your son William?"