Author's Notes: Set four years after 'Becoming' part two. Buffy ran away, and didn't come back. Now, four years later, she's about to be reminded of who and what she really is.

Rating: PG-13. Language and strong themes. Sorry, kiddies.

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine. Don't sue, please.

Feedback: Very welcome. Constructive criticism is welcome; flames will be used to help me toast marshmallows.

Chapter Notes: Well, I have most of my voice back, which is very good. I can now yell at my little brother again when he comes into my room wanting to borrow 'Friends' episodes. Go away, you little jerk! Ahem. Thanks for all your lovely reviews, especially Demonica Mills (I forgot to say this last chapter) for being full of 'yay' for my university stuff! Also Kirina, because she finally got round to reviewing – probably because she knows I'll hit her with my crutches on Monday if she hadn't…

Chapter Twenty-one: Exchange

"Spike, m'boy, I want a word."

Spike winced. He'd hoped to get into the shower without Angel noticing him. Fat chance.

"Angel. Mate." He turned, clutching the clean towel as if it would shield him from his grandsire. "Thing is, I was just goin' to have a shower…"

Angel calmly took the towel from him and steered his grandchilde into the bathroom, it being the only available room at the moment. "The shower can wait, William."

"But I really – "

"William!"

"Fine," Spike muttered, knowing better than to cross Angel when he got like this. "What is it?"

"Buffy."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Why didn't I guess?" He pulled his shirt off and turned on the shower, fiddling with the temperature of the water before shucking his pants. "So, what about her?"

Angel rolled his eyes at Spike's lack of modesty. "I want to talk to you about her."

"So bleeding talk already."

"Fine." Angel was already annoyed, and he hadn't even started. Spike's capacity to get on his nerves never ceased to amaze him – with or without a soul. "You've been all over her since she got here."

"Haven't," Spike said defensively. Then: "What's it to you? You don't still love her, do you? After four years?"

"And you don't?" Angel shot back. Spike stilled in the shower, then shrugged and continued washing.

"Whatever that means, Peaches."

"You know exactly what it means." Angel scowled. "You think I didn't smell you on her, when we were fighting? I did."

"I know." Spike lathered up his hair. "Why d'you think I ran so quick? Knew if you won…"

"Doesn't matter," Angel said quickly, unwilling to bring up past injuries. He and Spike had – mostly – sorted out their murky history and put it behind them. "But you…you've loved her since then."

"Since before then," Spike admitted after a moment. "You told me, once…you said to kill her, you have to love her. And by God, I wanted to kill you for saying that. Because I loved her. I'd fallen, good and hard, the way I always do. But I didn't want to kill her."

"If you had, she wouldn't have got away the first night you fought," Angel observed. "When you set your mind on something, you carry it through."

Spike chuckled. "Yeah. Got the soul to show for it, don't I?" He rinsed his hair, turned the water off and stuck his hand out for the towel that Angel duly handed to him. "But I'm thinking you're not here to hash out old memories."

"I need to make sure you're not going to hurt her."

Spike stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. "Oh, you mean like you did?" he mocked. "'Cos technically speaking, it was you that got her landed in that hell dimension."

Angel growled low in his throat. "You'd best leave that thought alone, boy," he warned, a little of his old Irish brogue showing through.

"Fine," Spike shrugged, picking up his toothbrush. "What do you want to know? How I'd die before letting hurt come to her? Congrats, you've heard it." He scowled into the basin. "I mean, sodding hell. Didn't even want to do that for Dru." He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his sire. "Problem is, she thinks she's gonna die fighting Glory." He turned to face Angel. "And I'm not going to let that happen."

"She what?" Angel demanded incredulously. "She said that to you?"

"Will you two keep it down?" Dawn demanded, swinging the door open. "Some of us are trying to sleep. And if you wake Hattie up, you can deal with cranky Buffy."

"We'll be quiet," Spike nodded. "Sorry, Bit."

"Fine. Just shh!" She left and shut the door firmly.

"I swear she didn't used to be so bossy," Angel commented.

"Uh, mate…"

"Oh, except when we took her shopping."

"Yeah." Spike dropped the unused toothbrush. "Look, Angel…I don't want to…I mean." He paused. "You've still got a claim over her. She doesn't know it. But you do. And…and I love her, and if I have to fight you for her…I will." He stared straight at the older vampire. "But I don't think I'll be alone. She's Alpha – the clan leader. And they say I'm an Alpha too – though quite how that works I'm not exactly sure." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She's everything. And if I need to fight you for her, don't think I won't. Don't think I won't drive a stake through your heart before letting her go."

"And Buffy? What does she want? Or doesn't that matter?"

"She doesn't know what she wants," Spike muttered. "That's part of the sodding problem." He leaned against the wall. "But I think we're gonna find out soon."

"Why's that?" Angel wanted to know.

"Because tomorrow we're going to meet her ex."

Angel frowned. "Her ex?"

"Yeah."

"As in Hattie's father, the ex?"

"Yep."

"As in the abusive ex?"

"Uh huh."

"Oh, this should be interesting."

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Coming next chapter:

Buffy and Dave talk.

Spike and Buffy get some answers.