Just bear in mind as you read this, that I still haven't seen any of the new season of Angel. And thanks so much for all the lovely feedback – I really appreciate every comment.

Chapter 12 – It Starts with a Smile

That smile. Even when Spike didn't play a part in my waking thoughts, I know I dreamt about it. Not in the 'I remember' sense of it, but just something I know. His oh-so-familiar face blurs, and I realise I'm seeing it through excess water that's accumulating in my eyes. I brush my other hand over my eyes to clear them, and start to laugh. It's not a laugh because anything is funny, it's more just the absence of tension, well that and happiness.

He looks confused. I try to calm myself enough to speak.

"Spike," I manage at last.

"Well, yeah," he whispers. "I'm just wondering who the hell you are."

Ok, not the response I expected. But then, Lilah never gave any indication as to what his condition would be when he was returned.

"I'm Buffy," I tell him, willing him to remember.

"Bloody hell! You look like her, but she's never … I've never seen her … happy like that. You're the bloody bot! That's it. The witch went and mended it again."

"Spike," I say softly, relief flooding me. After everything else, I'm not sure I could cope if he didn't remember me. My hand runs gently over his face, from chin to cheekbone and back again. And then I remember how he recognised me the last time.

I put a hand gently on his shoulders, feeling the softness of well-worn leather, and take in the black of his clothes. He looks just as he did when … he died. I kiss him, nothing passionate, just a gentle, friendly kiss. His eyes flutter closed as he realises what I'm going to do, and then, as I pull away, they open again, and stay wide open in surprise.

"It is you," he says, his voice mirroring his almost disbelief.

"Yes, it's me. And you're back. And still with the Billy Idol look."

He seems to consider what I've said for a moment, then he asks, "Back from where?"

Ok. It looks like some explanations are in order. I settle down to sit beside him.

"Spike, what's the last thing you remember?"

It seems he has to think about that.

"Well, the ubervamps. And an amulet. I wore it, and it was burning me. The place was falling down, and you said …"

"I love you," I interject.

"And I said you didn't. And then you left. And I burned."

I feel a stab of guilt at those words. Because I left him. I know it's what he wanted at the end, but I've always wondered if I couldn't have done something to get him out too.

"Yeah," I say. "But that was seven years ago."

I half expect him to argue, tell me I'm crazy, but he nods.

"It seems like it was a long time ago, I just can't remember where I've been since then."

"It's a long story," I tell him. "I'll tell you later. There's just one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"You were wrong."

Before I can say anything else, he jumps in. "Stands to reason the first thing you say to me after seven bloody years is to tell me I was wrong."

"Well, you were, and I've wished for those seven years that I'd told you sooner."

He's about to speak again, so I put a finger over his lips to stop him.

"When I told you I loved you, and you said I didn't. You were wrong. I did love you."

"Did?" he asks, and I see a mixture of hope and dread in his eyes.

"Did then, and still do," I tell him.

He doesn't seem able to answer that, and I see so many emotions flitting across his face that I smile.

"Let's get you home. There're a lot of explanations needed, I think."

"Home?"

"My apartment. We can talk."

He nods, and I stand up, holding out a hand to help him.

Spike stands slowly, as if he's not sure his limbs will respond, but his hand is warm in mine. It takes a few seconds for that fact to filter into my brain. Spike's hand is warm. But that's just because I'm holding it, right? I touch his face again, and it's warm too. And then I put my hand over his heart, and I feel it, faint but strong, a beating heart.

"You're alive," I tell him.

He grasps his own wrist, checking for a pulse.

"Bloody hell," he shouts. "How?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "We'll find out, later."

"But … but, human? That's … that's …"

He's shaking his head, but seems to be lost for words. I make up my mind to chalk that up as a first. Spike's lost for words.

He wrenches his hand out of mine. I look up, hurt, wondering why he's done it.

"That's a bloody pickle, isn't it, Slayer? That's how it works, is it? You finally work out you can love Spike the vampire, and then I'm bloody human, and I know only too well how that's going to end. Well, thank you very much, but if you'll just show me how to get out of here, I'll get out of your life before this gets any worse."

"Spike," I say, louder than I intended. "Spike, we'll work out what this means. Just come home with me, and we'll sort it out. And anyway, where else would you go?"

He thinks for a few seconds, then realises I'm right.

"That's just great," he complains. "I'm a charity case now, am I? Look after the poor newly human wimp, because he's too weak to look after himself."

The urge to hit him is there. I remember it so well, but the difference is, this time I don't. I hold my hands by my side, even though they're itching to move.

"Spike, you're not a charity case. Come home with me, so I can explain what's been happening. Give yourself time to settle down, then see how you feel."

He's pulling away from me, but then I see his shoulders slump and I know he knows he hasn't got any choice.

For the first time, I really look around. It looks pretty much like Angel's office, except shabbier. Well, maybe not shabbier, but somehow less important. I lead Spike towards the door, but before we reach it, it opens, and Wes comes in with Angel right behind him.

"Buffy, oh, you're ok," says Wes, the relief showing on his face. "It took us a while to persuade Lilah to tell us where you were, and I was afraid she'd double-crossed us."

"I'm fine," I reassure him, but my eyes are on Angel who's standing behind, and I'm daring him to speak to me. His is the last voice I want to hear right now, and I think he's got the message, as he turns to leave. Spike's eyes are trained on his back as he retreats, but he says nothing.

"How is he?" Wes asks.

"'He', is fine," Spike retorts sarcastically. "And who are you?"

Wes steps forward, hand outstretched to greet him.

"I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he says, "I'm a friend of Buffy's."

Spike ignores the proffered hand.

"Oh, yes, and you've got the Council of Watchers stamped all over you. What's this? Spike too much of a threat now, so they've got to get involved?"

Wes is taken aback by the confrontation, but manages to keep his cool.

"I was a Watcher, some years ago. Today, however, I work here. Tomorrow, I suspect I'm going to be self-employed."

"So, was bringing me back human your doing?"

"Human?" Wes looks at me for corroboration.

I nod. "Heartbeat, warm. As far as I can tell, he's human."

"Most unexpected. And Lilah didn't give us any clue, did she?"

I get the impression Wes wants to start dissecting everything that's happened this evening, but all I want to do is get Spike home.

"Look, Wes, it's been a long day, and Spike's understandably confused about what's been happening. Let's all go home and get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Oh, yes, certainly," he replies, and the words form a strange sort of apology.

We walk towards the elevator in silence. Once we're inside, Spike asks, "So, where are we? I assume LA because of the poof, but where exactly?"

"We're in the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart - it's a firm of lawyers. I work here, and so does Angel." Wes' voice is calm and matter of fact, but he surely can't be any less aware of the waves of anger rolling off Spike than I am.

"So, what's a vampire doing working for some lawyers? Or an ex-Watcher for that matter?"

"We fight evil, in whatever form. The firm just gives us the resources to make the job easier."

He seems to accept that for a moment.

"So, what about you, Slayer? You work for this lot too?"

"No, I have my own business - I'm a counsellor. I help people traumatised by brushes with the things that were commonplace in Sunnydale - vampires, demons and so on."

There's a flash of something in his eyes, almost … admiration, but it's gone before I can be sure. All that's left is the pain and anger that's been there since he realised he was no longer undead.

Wes sees us to my car, and we get in in silence. I had so many pictures of this moment, of seeing him again, but none of them were remotely like this. I'd expected what? Perfection? No, not any more. But I'd expected something positive, some sign that he cares about me, loves me. Was I so stupid to believe that he loved me? And if he has no memories since the cave, why doesn't he seem to love me now? And yet, there was that look, those first few moments - they were closer to what I expected. What changed? And then it dawns on me. It changed when he knew he was changed. But I don't understand why.

I delve into my professional knowledge, and tell myself that he's just undergone a tremendous shock. Apart from having missed out on seven years, he's just found he's not who, or more correctly what, he thought he was. He's bound to be confused, and I can understand anger too. But it hurts to have that anger aimed at me when all I want to do is hold him and make everything feel good again.

We get back to find Willow in the hallway. She must have jumped up as soon as she heard my key in the door. Her face is so full of happiness when she first sees us, and I shake my head at her from my vantage point behind Spike, trying to warn her to keep things quiet for now.

"Oh, so the witch was involved too?" Spike mutters. "Might have known. Bringing people back from the dead's a bit of a speciality for you, isn't it?"

He lunges towards her, and Willow instinctively moves back, but Spike stops before he touches her.

"Frightened you, did I? Just took you by surprise, more like. Couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, but then, you know that, don't you?"

"What is it, Spike? The chip was removed, before … before you dusted. What's wrong?"

"You really don't know?" Spike's voice is falsely calm. "I had you pegged as the one most likely to. Well, for your information, I'm human. Just a weak, insignificant ponce again."

Willow looks at me, and I nod.

"Look, it's late," I try to explain. "We'll talk in the morning. Spike, come with me, and I'll get you somewhere to sleep."

Willow disappears, and I take Spike into my room. "You can stay here tonight. I'll just get some things, and …"

"Your room, Slayer?" he asks.

I hate that he's calling me that again. "Yeah, is that a problem?"

"Typical, really. Never got this honour when I was a vampire, oh no. Now I'm a harmless human, I merit your room."

I shake my head. I had had visions of spending tonight in that bed with him, but I just know that wouldn't be right with things as they are.

"Look, Spike, I know being human is a shock. I get that, but I didn't know it was going to happen. The choice I had was between letting you spend eternity in Hell, or bringing you back. There wasn't any mention of whether you'd be alive or dead. Forgive me for caring enough not to want to consign you to Hell."

"Not sure there's much difference," he mutters.

"Look, Spike, I don't understand. I don't see why it's such a terrible thing to be human."

"It's not being human that's the problem, Slayer. It's being me. Stupid, poncy, weak, laughable me. Dru may not have done a lot of good, but she saved me from that, made me something better, something more. Now, I'm nothing."

"You're not nothing, not unless you decide that's what you're going to be."

I put my hands on his shoulders and look him straight in the eye. "The man you are was strong enough to fight the demon inside you. He was strong enough to win a soul. He was strong enough to love even without that soul. Don't you dare tell me he was nothing. He was the man I loved, that I still love, and somewhere inside you, he's still there."

"You're wrong, Slayer. He's gone. Everything that made me Spike is gone. And, once you realise that, you'll be running away from me so fast … But there's no point in talking about it now. This is your room, and I'm not sleeping here. I'll take the sofa, anything. Us poor human types need sleep."

"There's a spare bedroom," I tell him, "but no bed there yet. I'll order one first chance I get. You can have the sofa if you want, or …"

"The sofa'll be fine."

I lead him into the living room, and leave him there while I go to find an extra blanket. When I go back in, he's standing looking out of the window.

"You hungry?" I ask.

"A bit," he admits, more quietly. "Feel more like getting drunk, though."

"Can't help with the getting drunk," I tell him, "but food I can do. Can I fix you something?"

"Don't go to any bother on my account, Slayer," he says. "I can manage to make a sandwich if you've got some bread."

I leave out the makings of a sandwich, then turn to leave. It's quite clear he doesn't want me here, so I'd best go to bed.

I realise once I'm in bed that I didn't show him the bathroom, but I'm loathe to get up again. I didn't really think he'd come back and we'd instantly find everything perfect, but I definitely didn't figure on spending our first night apart. I'm feeling so alone, and I desperately want to hold him, to be held by him.

The one thing that's certain, though, is my belief that I did the right thing. The bargain I made is going to make things difficult, but I wouldn't change my decision. I just hope Spike eventually sees the positive side of it too.