Author's Notes: Chapter 3 was originally posted on election day (all tongue in cheek).

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Part Two - Paradise City

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"But we just got back. And I have responsibilities."

"S'only L.A. Could take the Bit with us."

"Awkward. Also, not what springs to mind."

Spike snickered. "Other things 'springing' to mind for you, love?"

"I can see I'm going to regret this," she muttered, pulling away from him.

His voice dropped to a rumble. "No regretting. Promise me."

Buffy shivered but didn't relent. "Well then. Behave." She picked up the newspaper again. "I need to find a job."

"This will pay, Buffy. Says right here." He shoved his glossy under her nose. "Enough for a good couple months."

"And yet I don't feel comfortable responding to an ad in 'Demon Monthly'. Can't figure why." She cuddled into him to take away the sting of her words. "Spike. My brain is on overload right now. I'm still adapting to being not-dead. Being pulled out of Heaven. And…" Her voice dropped to a whisper as she spoke into his bare chest. "No offense, but more than a little wigged that you're what's keeping me going." His arms crept around her as she continued. "Ring fights for money? Don't push it right now."

He didn't, dozing against the headboard while Buffy continued to circle ads.

"Hey," she said later, waking him with a kiss. "Dawn's going to be home soon. Got to go. Will you be by tonight?"

"If you want. Fair warning, though, won't be able to keep my hands to myself. Think your mates might suspect something."

"You're not going to be a secret, Spike. Just… give me some time to figure out what to say. Part and parcel of everything being too much right now."

"But this…" he motioned between them, "making things better, right, love? Not 'too much'?"

She smiled. "Oh, you're definitely too much. But I think in a good way."

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After patrol, after the house was quiet and to themselves, Spike pulled out his magazine again, pointing to the ad he'd circled. "Found something else you might want to have a gander at."

"Paradise City, Utah: Request services of demon hunter for Dragoth infestation. Will pay cash for services rendered," she read.

"Not as lucrative, but… be doing good, helping these poor people out. Like part of your Slayer calling, yeah? Cash for services rendered would be no more'n a bonus."

"Still would have to leave. Dawn…"

"Think on it this way… you'd be gone for what, maybe a week? But then, no slaving double shifts at a minimum wage job for days on end, always too tired to properly care for little Sis. Ought to tide you over for a bit, least until you find a job you actually want. 'Sides, no reason she couldn't come with."

Spike was pressing her back into the couch as he spoke, covering her with his body. "Then again," he smirked. "Can think of at least one reason to leave her behind…"

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Dawn didn't get to visit Paradise City, Utah.

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Part Three - Down on the Farm (A tribute to Orwellian swine)

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This was her life now, answering ads in Demon Monthly, patrolling and raising Dawn the rest of the time. Not everybody was comfortable with her choices but Buffy didn't much care. She was keeping the Hellmouth safe; she was raising her sister as best she could. There was nothing else they were allowed to expect of her.

Giles called from Bath, apologetic and offering a truce.

"There is a reward in exchange for aid," he told her. "I thought you might be interested. And well, I was hoping you and Dawn might holiday here after, for Christmas. The others are welcome too, of course, as long as they pay their own way."

"Do those others include Spike?"

He was silent so long she almost hung up.

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"So, what do you think? Talking animals taking over the farm, fighting Farmer Jones for control – demonic possession?"

"Sounds like Orwellian demons," Spike said blandly. "They mention Napoleon by any chance? Snowball?"

Buffy's face scrunched up. "Huh?"

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She grimaced, repulsed.

"What? Pig's blood. S'just a little fresher than is the norm. Straight from the source," he grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the ruby liquid across his cheek. It blended with blood already dripping from his hair and down his clothes.

"Yeah, but…"

"Don't be telling me I can't drink pig's blood now! First it's people off the menu, next it's pigs… Soon you'll be wanting me to be a vegetarian vamp!"

"It just seems wrong," she shuddered. "They talked. Like people."

"Yeah," he said happily. "T'was brilliant. 'Sides, they deserved it. Talking comrades and equality and all that bunk."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow, "So, what, you're a political vamp now? Going to join the ranks of undead voters?"

"Sod that! Vampire," he pointed to himself indignantly. "Only good political system is anarchy. Anarchy in the UK!" he hollered, pumping his fist. Buffy giggled behind her hand.

"Well good, I was worried I was going to come home to find you doing the dance of capitalistic superiority with Anya."

"Pffft," he scoffed. "Hate capitalist pigs."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Think these were socialist pigs, honey."

"Hate them too." He ran his tongue over his fangs. "Though maybe not so much these ones." He glanced around at the other animals who were regarding him with a horrified expression. The sheep bleated in terror, pressing back against the barn wall. Spike lunged at them and they scattered, leaving him howling with laughter.

She glared at him.

"Ah, don't be like that, love. How 'bout this – how 'bout if I carve this one here up, he'll make a lovely ham, we can bring it round to the Watcher's for dinner."

Buffy turned green and ran for the bushes.

"What? What'd I say?"