A/N: I have an inkling that there are people out there reading this story and not reviewing. Poor form. It takes you two, three minutes, tops, to send me a review and let me know you're appreciating my work. Remember people, I don't get paid for this and it would be easier by far to just not do it. Review, and make my day a good one. To my betas, Ezekeiel Rage and Ultrawoman, I give my thanks for their speedy return of my work. Also, thanks to my boyfriend for the card's message... even if he doesn't really read these stories.

Disclaimer: These disclaimers have about as much relevance to my stories as a picture of me posing naked on a bed, wearing nothing but a novelty Sylvester hat, and that's got pretty much no relevance. And NO in advance. I will not be sending those pictures to anyone...

The truth is never what it seems

The Slayer sat on her bed and stared at the manila envelope in her hands. She teased the corner of the flap, before pressing it flat again. It had been the last thing Riley had given her before he left again, and she wasn't sure if she should open it.

"Buffy, I understand that I'm not the guy you want to hear this from. It'd be the last thing I'd want to hear as well, but Spike is dangerous. I'm not going to tell you to stop seeing him. I'm not even going to ask. I gave up the right to do that when I left last time."

Riley paused and smiled sadly, recognising the stubborn look on his former lover's face.

"Here," he said, pushing a large manila envelope into her hands. "You don't have to open this. If you really want to trust Spike... These are some surveillance shots from an operative we got to watch the warehouse."

Once again Buffy played with the opening before chickening out and closing it tight again. This wasn't like her, to be so uncertain and worried, and it frustrated her no end that she couldn't help acting like this.

Wouldn't that just beat all, though? She loved Angel and he turned evil then she had to kill him. She had feelings for Parker, and he dumped her the next day. She had loved Riley and he had left her too. Now it looked as though the same sort of thing was happening again.

Buffy grimaced at her own feelings and roughly tore the envelope open. Five large glossy pictures fell onto the bed. Picking them up, any hope that the pictures weren't clear were dashed. There was Spike, identifiable through duster and hair if nothing else, entering the warehouse; opening the door; through the window; exiting the run-down building; stalking away down the street.

Putting the pictures back in their container and ignoring the uncomfortable prickling behind her eyes, Buffy got off her bed, grabbed her jacket and sprinted downstairs then out the door. She strode through Sunnydale on her way to Spike's crypt. He could explain this. He would explain this. He'd better explain this.

Only stopping to dust an exceptionally stupid vampire, even by Sunnydale standards -- because really, who tries to take on the Slayer with their hands handcuffed behind their back? -- Buffy made it to Spike's in almost record time. Kicking the door open, her eyes raked the darkness for the vampire. Not seeing anyone in the upper section, she dropped into the underground chamber.

The place was wrecked. The bed was torn apart, the sheets had been ribboned, the dresser had been emptied and the clothes strewn about the floor. The only thing not damaged or destroyed in some way was a candle. Buffy was so dismayed by the carnage that had been wrought in the room that she nearly missed seeing Spike, standing in the shadow of the sewer access.

"Spike, what happened here? Were you attacked?" Buffy asked, still trying to place what had happened in here. The vampire snorted loudly.

"Could say that, pet," he murmured, not moving from his place in the shadows. "Your giant Boy Scout tore it up looking for some bloody eye things." He stepped into the weak candle light in the room. "Expect he'll be back later when he thinks of somewhere else I might have put them."

"He won't. We killed what the eyes summoned and Riley left town," Buffy informed him absently, looking around the trashed room again. The mess seemed worse now, for some reason. More... intimate in the most unpleasant way possible.

"Oh, I see," he muttered darkly. Buffy looked at him quizzically. "Soldier boy comes back to town and Spike's not necessary anymore."

Buffy felt her irritation and suspicion blossom into something ugly inside her. "You weren't even around to be asked! And with the whole eye thing-"

"I bloody told you!" Spike exploded. "I didn't have anything to do with the sodding eyes!"

"Then what were you doing in a warehouse at the docks?" Buffy yelled back. The vampire's eyes widened and there was a brief flare of panic in them before his face closed off. "I have pictures."

She tossed the envelope at Spike, who briefly glanced at the glossy pages before dropping them on the floor. He turned an emotionless stare at Buffy, and she felt as though her heart was breaking. She was losing another one.

"Explain those," she said with a flip gesture at the photos, none of her inner turmoil showing in her voice. She tensed slightly as he reached into the pocket of his duster. He fished around for a moment before pulling out a key.

"First door on the left, under the concrete slab," he stated emotionlessly, throwing the key to Buffy and walking down the sewer. Buffy looked at the small metal key in the palm of her hand. There really was only two options; see what Spike was on about, or stake him now. It wasn't really a choice at all.

Her mind was almost blank on her way to the docks, too afraid of the potential consequences of this volatile situation. She quickly arrived at the warehouse, surprisingly not attacked once. She wandered into the room just left inside the entryway, and immediately noticed a concrete slab slanted against the wall. Hefting the heavy plate, Buffy saw a small metal box.

Fitting the key into the padlock, the Slayer lifted the lid to reveal a small package and a white envelope. Picking up the package, wrapped poorly in festive paper with Christmas trees on it, Buffy tore the paper off it to uncover a velvet box, which opened to show it contained a delicate gold pendant. In awe, Buffy picked up the fine chain and examined the pendant. A single, small diamond sat in a circle of gold, beautiful and elegant in it's simplicity.

Dazedly, Buffy picked up the envelope. Inside was a card with the nativity scene on the front. Opening the card, she read;

Buffy,

I've spent 120 years hiding from the light,

And you give me the sun with every smile.

Merry Christmas.

Love, Spike

Feeling a distinctive sting in her eyes, Buffy returned the card to the envelope and noticed a scrap of paper in there too. Pulling it out, she saw it was a receipt for the pendant. She realised she'd made a horrible mistake.

XXX

"Rupert?" William asked in the first lull in the conversation. He felt distinctly uncomfortable when he got the attention of Rupert, Joyce and Dawn all at once. "If it isn't too much bother, I'd like you to give me some formal weapons training, so I can be of more help."

"Of course, Will," Rupert murmured, obviously surprised by William's sudden interest in violence. Joyce patted his hand reassuringly and offered everyone another round of tea. As William declined, Dawn made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

"This is so unfair," she complained. "Why does he get training and I don't?"

"Because," Joyce said emphatically. "Rupert is his guardian and he feels that William is prepared. I'm your mother and I say you're not."

"But mom!" Dawn wailed.

"But nothing, young lady!"

"Oh my God! This is so unfair!"

Dawn stormed from the dining room and stomped upstairs. William finished his tea as Joyce and Rupert shared an indulgent smile over teenage theatrics. Excusing himself, William went upstairs and rapped his knuckles on the back of Dawn's door.

"What?" she called out surlily.

"It's me," William informed her, making no move to open the door.

Dawn sighed heavily, audible through the door. "Come in."

"Is there anything I can do?" William asked, his eyes firmly focussed on the floor. After all, it simply couldn't be proper to watch a young lady in bed if you weren't betrothed or wed.

"Haven't you done enough?" she asked bitterly. William remained silent, unsure of what to say. "I shouldn't blame you. It's not your fault," she sighed. "It's never your fault, but you're always there."

William bristled slightly at the tone. "I'm sorry-" he began stiffly.

"It's easy to be sorry when you get to learn how to fight, isn't it?" she asked him acerbically. William felt a muscle in his cheek twitch slightly, and part of him dimly noticed how very frustrated he was. "Just get out." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Get out! Get out! GET OUT!"

XXX

"We're out, fellas," Warren declared with no small amount of satisfaction. "We did it! We beat the law!"

Jonathan and Andrew shared an uncomfortable look. "Uhh, man?" Jonathan began. "How did we beat the law? They just let us out."

"Didn't they tell you to never look a gift horse in the mouth, Sparky?" Warren asked rhetorically. The Trio began the hike to the bus stop in silence. After fifteen minutes, Andrew's fidgeting grew to almost epileptic proportions. "What?"

"Umm, maybe it was just me," he began. "But when I was in the showers--" Andrew's sentence was cut short dramatically by Warren's fists gripping his shirt roughly.

"We never, ever speak about anything that happened in there!" Warren hissed dangerously. Andrew gulped and nodded.

"So, is this like, on a need to know basis? Because--"

"Dude, just shut the hell up."

XXX

The liquor burned as the shot went down and the glass hit the bar with a sharp crack. Spike gestured for the bartender to fill it again, tossing it back as though it were water. His heart felt as though it were being shattered into a million pieces with every breath and even the usually blessed haze of alcohol was eluding him tonight.

He let out a snort as he realised that the Slayer had driven him to drink again. She had been the cause, both directly and indirectly, of every single bout of drunkenness Spike had experienced in the last five years. Five years! That was almost laughable. Drusilla, Spike's dark princess herself, had been unable to drive him half so batty as the Slayer despite the fact she actually was barmy and she'd had a hundred years to do it.

For some reason the last five years seemed infinitely more real than all of the time before; more real than his life as the poncy poet, more real than his time as the slayer of Slayers, more real than his persona as the Big Bad. Buffy was his reality, because he loved her with everything he had. And she trusted her ex, who'd been visiting vamp whores to get a real suck job before he'd abandoned her.

His lip twisting in an ironic and deeply bitter smirk, Spike slid some notes across the table and ordered the bottle. It would be simpler by far to just consume the alcohol straight from the bottle. It wasn't going anywhere else tonight.

Taking a swig from the bottle, Spike sauntered outside before realising he had nowhere to go. His crypt was completely trashed and the Slayer sure as hell didn't want him around her mum's place. For lack of a better plan, he dropped down on the footpath and started to drink from his bottle of whiskey in long pulls.

By the time the bottle was almost empty the world seemed a much blurrier place, but it wasn't any happier. In fact, Spike had started to get mightily pissed off and when he heard two stupid vamps blundering out of Willy's he decided that a spot of violence would do him good. He staggered to his feet then frowned, puzzled by the fact that he still appeared to be sitting down.

"Oi, you!" Spike bellowed drunkenly, hurling his whiskey bottle at the bearded one. "Tha's righ', ya pillocks. I'll rip ya guts out an' hang ya wi' 'em," he slurred. He grinned and felt his demonic face slide over his features, preparing for the upcoming fight. Now, if only the world would stop tilting so dramatically, he would give these two wankers a right seeing to.

He swayed unsteadily as the two vamps lumbered towards him only to blink as a flash of motion passed in front of him and the vampires exploded into dust. The surprise caused Spike to fall back on his ass and the world seemed to be full of white noise suddenly. Through the near-deafening wall of noise, the vampire heard a shrill, familiar voice and he struggled to hear it.

"-were twice your size, and you're drunk! They would have beaten you up badly, or maybe even dusted you," the not-quite-recognizable voice complained, "and I wouldn't have even known!"

All of Spike's memories of the night rushed back at the catch in the Slayer's voice. Spike smiled bitterly. "Like you'd bloody care, Slayer," he spat, feeling the grim satisfaction of scoring a hit, but none of the old glee that came with hurting his Slayer. The Slayer. Made it abundantly clear she wanted no part of him.

"I would," she pouted, obviously hurt. Spike scoffed loudly. "Look, I'm sorry for not trusting you," she murmured in a quiet, solemn voice. "I should have, I know. It's just that... I'm afraid." Spike goggled dazedly at the odd confession. "I've been in love exactly twice before, and both times my heart got stomped on. I was afraid that was going to happen with us." The vampire continued to stare drunkenly, struggling to comprehend this turn of events. "I'm still afraid, but I love you and I want to trust you."

Spike's vampiric constitution was rapidly breaking down the alcohol in his system, and his cognitive ability seemed at least partially restored as his addled brain finally figured out what the Slayer was saying.

"And you think that makes it right, then?" he asked to the obvious surprise of Buffy. Too bloody bad. "You come around here, say you love me and everything's all peaches and cream again? I don't bloody think so." The look on Buffy's face was one of pure shock. Clearly the idea that he might refuse her had not occurred to her. "I have my pride, y'know?"

"I..." Buffy's mouth worked silently for a moment. "I understand," she muttered emotionlessly, slowly backing away. Spike's resolve to put her through the kind of hell she sent him through this time dissolved, and, after one false start, he jogged up behind her and gripped her arm, spinning her about to face him.

"Clearly, you don't," he said gruffly. "That whole pride thing was pretty much a smoke screen."

The Slayer looked at her vampire love, her eyes shining bright with hope. She stared into his eyes, and was apparently pleased with what she saw there as her body sagged visibly in relief.

"Oh, thank God."

XXX

The dark-skinned demon flexed It's powerful muscles absently, lost in thought. There was a large power near the Destroyer and this did not bode well for It's plans. This could be nothing but a disturbance. It's talons slashed out, catching one of the black-robed figures and skewering it before devouring the departing soul and feasting on the flesh.

The power of the Hellmouth boiled beneath It's feet, making discerning the power in this pitiful world harder to accomplish. All that could be determined clearly was the Destroyer, this new power, the being that summoned It and the Hellmouth itself. Champions on the side of Good could be felt dimly, but little more than their existence could be sensed due to the active Hellmouth.

The new power suddenly disappeared, and the momentary relief It felt disappeared almost as fast, because it hadn't disappeared alone. It had taken the Destroyer with it.

XXX

A/N: Another longish one, there. I have taken Two Weeks and School Hard off my profile, as I do not see myself updating them anytime soon. I will eventually get around to doing Two Weeks, though. I also have a website which can be reached by going to my profile page and selecting Homepage. Obviously. Review, and let me know what you think of this still.