Domestic Shadows

By SinisterChic & MsQuey

A/N: This story follows cannon up until our hero's final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)

Disclaimer: Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.

Chapter 1

It was the most unnatural, unearthly feeling in the world. Not since Heaven had she felt like this. She thought she never could feel this way again until she was allowed to return there once more. Buffy Summers sat on the back porch of her new home, watching the sun set, and felt . . . done.

There were hundreds of slayers in the world now; Giles thought maybe even close to a thousand. On the day they realized just how many there were he had turned to her and said, "Your work is finished Buffy." The sound was liberating to her ears and he said it with the smile of an affectionate father. "You can be a normal woman now."

And she was a normal woman at last. Except for a few things. Giles had bought her and Dawn a small house near the coast of Maine. His eyebrows had drawn together when she said she wanted to move to the other side of the country but he didn't comment. Her reasoning was simple enough, though. She wanted as little reminder of Sunnydale as possible and where better for that than to live in a quiet, oceanfront New England town?

Dawn re-enrolled into high school, her senior year rapidly approaching. And Buffy found a new counseling job in another school. ("You cannot work at my school, Buffy! What if you mistake a normal bully for a demon and beat the crap out of him? I'd die of embarrassment!") It was really the only job she had any experience for, though Dawn pointed out that there was a Doublemeat Palace in town.

The remaining Scoobies and the Potentials (now fully fledged slayers) left with Giles for England, intending to reform the Watcher's Council and begin gathering the new slayers into a training school. Faith and Robin, not wishing to leave the States or retire, moved to Cleveland to keep an eye on the only other Hellmouth. Buffy missed them all but knew this was for the best.

And it wasn't like they couldn't stay in touch. Before they left, Willow taught Buffy the basics of computer skills and how to use those funny things called email and instant messenger. Buffy found, now that she actually had the time, that computers and the internet were actually quite addictive and more than once Dawn had to hide the laptop in order to keep her from staying up all night.

So yes, Buffy was now leading a relatively normal life. Emphasis on "relatively".

There was still a vampire living in the basement.

It had been six months since the battle and Spike's burns were nearly healed. He'd spent two of those months completely laid up and helpless. It was Buffy who nursed him back to health. She changed his bandages, fed him, and bathed him. It was hard for Spike to take but it wasn't like he had any choice.

One might think that their close proximity to one another might foster a growing intimacy as had begun before. This was not the case. Buffy had said that she loved him, but he knew it was only because she had thought that he was about to die. He could feel uncomfortable tension radiating from her each time she came down the stairs into his basement to tend him. She always put on a brave face and smiled but he knew better.

She wished that he hadn't made it.

That's not something a man or vampire can live underneath of for very long.

Spike stretched as he woke with the sun's setting. Buffy had left a mug of pig's blood on the stool beside his bed. He looked at it bitterly but then drank. He would need his strength because in one week he was leaving. Buffy didn't know it because he had just decided the night before. He would tell her tonight.

A little while later he stepped out on to the back porch to light a cigarette. Buffy was there, drinking a cup of tea, watching the last rays of the sun disappear behind the trees. She looked so peaceful and beautiful in that moment that he almost rethought his decision, but when she turned, sensing him there, he knew that he had to leave. Her smile changed subtly and she shifted in her seat.

"Hi, Spike," she said.

"Hey, Buffy," he returned, taking a puff. "Where's the Nibblet?"

"You know, you really should stop calling her that," she said laughing slightly. "Yesterday she told me that if you called her that one more time she was going to stake you in your sleep." He smiled despite himself. He'd miss the Bit's fire and spunk. "She's out on a date."

"A what?" The cig nearly fell out of his mouth.

"Don't look so shocked. She's seventeen years old."

Spike started pacing back and forth, forgetting about the little speech he had prepared. "Do you even know this bloke?—If he so much as lays a hand on her I'll kill him!"

Buffy was full on laughing at him now. "God, Spike! Overreact much? If she can kill demons then I'm pretty sure she can handle anything a teenage boy can throw her way."

"I'm not worried about that. Sure, Dawn can knock the block off any bloke that tries to hurt her physically." He sat down hard in the chair next to her. "No contest. But he could . . . you know." She looked at him, nonplussed. "Oh, bullocks! You know what I'm talking about."

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Fine, keep your head in the bloody sand. Just don't come cryin' to me when she ends up with a bun in the oven."

"Abun in the oven?"

"Pregnant! Sod it. Do I need to spell it out for you?" She put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing but quickly recovered this time around.

"Spike, you don't need to worry about Dawn. She's not going to get pregnant. I trust her. And you should too." She sat forward in the chair and gave him the once over. "You look like you're feeling much better today," she said, thusly changing the subject.

He took another drag from his cigarette, "Yeah. So it would seem."

"Good enough to go out and buy your own blood now?" she asked in jest, not knowing the tender spot she was hitting. "This isn't Sunnydale, you know. People don't just buy blood on a regular basis around here. The butcher is starting to give me a look."

Spike crushed his spent cig under-boot and immediately lit up another. Buffy waved a hand in front of her face. "Spike, you're rapidly becoming a smoke stack." She coughed. "And FYI, I'm not buying you anymore cigarettes either."

"Buffy, we need to talk." The words fell like lead. Spike swallowed hard, forcing all his heart's protests down and out of the way. Buffy didn't say anything, just waited, sensing his uneasiness at last. "Like you said, I'm almost runnin' at full speed again. And I'm grateful for everything you've done for me," he glanced at her for half a second but then looked back down at the wooden porch planks, "but I think it's time I move on."

"Why?" she asked in a strained voice, sinking into her deck chair. If it were possible Buffy looked even smaller than usual.

"For your own—"

Buffy cut him off by suddenly getting up from her chair to turn her back on him. "If you're about to say this is for my own good, you can just save it," she said angrily. "I've heard that speech enough for one life time."

"Buffy, I—"

"No! Shut up, I mean it."

Now Spike was getting angry himself. He stood up and grabbed Buffy by the shoulder, spinning her back around to face him. "It's not just for your own good. It's for mine too!"

She shook him off. "What is that supposed to mean? Am I that toxic?"

"You bloody well are! I can't stand seein' you everyday—day in and day out—knowin' how you feel about me."

"And how do I feel about you, Spike?" With every word her voice intensified until she was nearly growling at the end. "No, tell me. I'd really like to know."

"You wish I were dead!"

Everything came to a full stop. Spike couldn't believe he'd just said that. He hadn't meant to be this harsh with her. Buffy couldn't believe she'd heard it and her eyes started to well up with tears.

The next words that came were Buffy's and they came slowly and measured. "If that's how you think I feel—maybe it would be better if you left."

Spike leaned forward until his face was mere inches from hers. "Fine."

He had intended it to be a snide remark. A proper note on which to leave. But she was so close, her eyes so bright. The next instant after he'd spoken he found himself kissing her and she was pawing for purchase against his back, trying to pull him closer. As they went on kissing hungrily, he ran his fingers through her silky hair and she tried very hard to separate him from his coat. Each action was frantic, needy even. It had been almost two years since they'd been here together, after all.

For a full minute they lost themselves in each other until, shaking, Spike broke away.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, panting, pulling him down to rest his forehead against hers. She ran her fingertips along his cheek bone and down to his lips. Spike closed his eyes and leaned in for a moment, but then seemed to snap out of it.

He pushed her hands down, "Buffy," but couldn't yet force himself to push her away entirely. "I can't do this."

Her eyes sparkled. "Spike, I—"

"No." He stopped her with his hand against her mouth. "Don't say it. If you say it again, you'll regret it. Someday, down the road." She made a noise of protest, but he barreled on. "I know you feel something for me, Buffy. God, I wish with my soul that it was love, but we both know its not." He laughed mirthlessly. "'Til the day we die we'll be turnin' each other on 'til we can barely stand it—but that's not enough for me anymore."

And with that he turned away and began to walk off out the back way, through the garden gate.

"Spike," Buffy called out, her voice panicked. He turned back to look at her. "You aren't leaving for good, are you?"

He shook his head. "No. Gonna go cool off and then I'll be back—," Buffy let out a breath of relief only to suck it back in again when he finished his sentence, "to pick up my stuff."

When Dawn came home later that evening she heard Buffy sobbing from somewhere in the house. She followed the sound until it led her out to the back porch. There she found her sister sitting against the banister, her knees drawn up to her chest, just shaking with tears. Dawn approached tentatively, and sank down beside her. Buffy didn't acknowledge her at first but then, after a particularly large sob wracked her body she cried out, "He's going to leave me." And then Dawn understood: Spike is leaving. All words of comfort escaped her, so she simply put her arm around Buffy and let her cry on her shoulder.