The light had been blinding and it took Tara several minutes to fully blink the spots from her vision. The cave was quiet. She could tell the candles were still lit, although her eyes weren't working properly and she took another moment to let them adjust. That was when she spotted the others.

Spike laid in a heap on the cave floor shaking. His arms were wrapped around himself and he was whimpering quietly. Tara suspected he might be in a state of shock but her concern for him was temporarily dampened when she caught sight of her girlfriend laying behind him. Willow had fallen down dazed and Tara rushed towards them both.

She pulled Willow's head into her lap examining her for any signs of damage. There was a very small cut near her hairline. "Baby? Oh come on, Willow? Are you alright? Are you okay?" She asked frantically.

Willow slowly came to her senses and looked around a little. "Yeah— I hum— yeah I think I'm fine. That was seriously intense." Her gaze fell onto Spike and she reached for Tara to help her stand up. They both looked at Spike still laying within the circle of candles.

"Is he okay?" Willow asked.

Tara shook her head, "I don't know."

Spike was still shaking with his arms wrapped around his torso.

"Come on, let's get him up." Willow said with concern. Did it work? It felt like it worked— oh goddess I hope I didn't mess something up- please be okay—

Tara nodded hesitantly. The two of them pulled Spike into a sitting position and he opened his eyes frantically looking around. "What's happened? Where am I?" His voice had completely changed. Instead of the gruff working class accent they were so used to, it sounded much more refined.

He looked down at himself and yelped. "Goodness, I'm naked!" He looked up at Tara and Willow and yelped again, pointing an accusing finger at them, "What happened? I was— the beautiful dark haired lady— I- what happened?" He was starting to panic.

Willow and Tara exchanged a look.

"S-Spike?" Willow questioned.

He didn't respond to her and kept looking around. He pulled himself up taking a closer look at his surroundings.

"Spike?" Willow tried it again a little louder, this time.

Spike looked up at her very confused, "Mother will be quite beside herself. She depends on me you know—" he trailed off edging against the wall looking around and muttering to himself.

Willow and Tara exchanged another look. "William?" Willow asked.

He turned back around, holding his hands in front of himself in modesty and looking at them both curiously, "Yes, of course… and if you'll excuse me," he turned around resuming his search for his clothes, ignoring the two witches and muttering to himself.

"Ohh boy—" Willow groaned.

"You did say he might be a little disoriented at first. Maybe he'll snap out of it?" Tara said hopefully.

Willow nodded, "Right, you're right. Let's just get him some clothes and see if we can get him settled down."

Spike wandered out towards the mouth of the cave where he could see the fire still crackling.

"Burns, burns with the passion of love. Love that burns— oh God— NO!" Spike suddenly screamed, back arching and he fell to his knees panting. Tara rushed towards him wrapping an arm around him while Willow ran to grab a blanket. He recovered a little and looked at his hands in disbelief, "Blood— oh god— the blood— so much life spilling to the ground… down my throat, through my hands— the feel— life under my fingers, like love and blood and what have I done? Buffy? Where's Buffy?"

He looked up as Willow wrapped a blanket around him, "Willow? Where's Buffy? Is she alright? Is she safe?" He asked with wide eyes, seemingly oblivious to Tara pulling the blanket around him a little tighter.

Willow crouched down to him laying a hand on his shoulder, "Buffy is fine. I think she's at home—"

He nodded as though he barely heard her, "Good— good. Keep Buffy safe. Not that she needs the likes of me— Keep the babies safe, that's your job. You made a promise, you keep your promise. Give them what they deserve— The babies— oh god the babies— can't see me— can't— innocent… innocent little loves… evil thing— babies can't know— Buffy can't know— can't see me… can't love— can't know what I've done—" he sobbed into his hands.

His head snapped up with a growl that made Tara pull her arm back and topple back from him in surprise. "She already knows you idiot! She knows you! Why she can't love; you bloody fool!" He barked, still looking at his hands. A deep growl erupted from his chest.

He didn't even seem to notice when both witches eased away from him.

"She knows what I am—" Without warning he collapsed down again into a ball, "God— what have I done? Got to be a good man— father was a good man. Had a good example I did— William was a good man— William was— but Spike— Spike is a bloody killer— So much blood— please— please—" he was sobbing uncontrollably, "hurts, hurts, oh God it burns— fire—" he pulled himself up onto his elbows, his eyes focused intently on the fire still burning just outside of the cave, "…fire would stop the burn—" he crawled forward, stumbling to his feet towards the fire.

Before he could get within six feet of the entrance of the cave, Willow reached out her palm towards him. She chanted a quick spell and he crumpled to the ground like a marionette, cut free.

Willow turned to Tara. "That will only hold him for a few hours. Hopefully it will be long enough to let him get some rest."

Tara nodded, "Yeah, that was kind of freaky," she stood up, "at least he was more like himself at the end there. Did you know he was having such a hard time with all of this?"

"Kinda, but I've never seen him this bad. Not even when Dru left him. I think he's been keeping a lot bottled up."

It was around midday while Tara and Willow were sitting outside of the cave cooking over the fire, when Spike finally stirred awake from underneath Willow's dreamless-sleep spell. He shuffled barefooted toward them with the blanket wrapped around him like a small child.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Willow asked him.

He didn't seem to hear her at first, his eyes were locked onto the fire. Tara cleared her throat, "Spike? Are y-you alright?" She paused, waiting for a response but when none came, she tried again. "William?"

His head snapped up looking at them like he just realized they were there. "What's that, Glenda?"

Tara gave him a bright smile, "Oh good, I thought maybe your memory had taken another mini hiatus."

"Didn't know it had gone to begin with…" he whispered.

"How are you feeling?" Willow repeated her question.

Spike sat down cross legged, several feet away from them. His now jean clad knees were a hair's breath away from the shaft of light shining into the mouth of the cave. He sat staring at the line separating the darkness he was in and the light of the harsh desert sun.

"Still not worthy… don't deserve the sun. Her light effulgent… her— she… Can't love, shouldn't—"

"Spike?"

"Humm?" He said looking up.

"You're kinda talking to yourself," Willow replied, furrowing her brow.

"The words just come— poetry…" he shrugged a shoulder, "like poetry in motion, she is—" he whispered softly, "Can't dim her glow. Must wear gloves. Stay in the dark, always in the dark. Mustn't sully the gold. Mustn't touch, the sun— mustn't touch the sun. Sun burns. Love burns. Love screams…"

Suddenly without warning, he threw off the blanket and thrust himself into the sunlight. His skin started sizzling immediately and Tara yelled. Willow threw her hand out towards Spike and an invisible force sent him tumbling a good ten feet back into the cool darkness of the cave. His head cracked against the wall and he slumped down, limbs limp and head lulling to the side.

Willow was breathing heavily. She glanced from Spike to Tara, "Okay— so that just happened."

"Goddess, Will— What the heck was he thinking? He could have—" Tara swallowed painfully.

Willow sat back down chewing her lip, "I figured he'd have some serious issues but this? I—" she shook her head. "I didn't think he would ever try something like that…"

Tara was still rattled but started to shake it off with a series of logical thoughts, "I'm thinking we should start packing up and get him back to the house as soon as the sun sets. I don't think his crypt is going to be an option. It's just way too easy for him to leave and try something like that again."

Willow nodded, "No, you're right. I'm going to give Xander a call and have him get the basement and the shackles ready. I'd feel a whole lot better if we got him settled in where he can't hurt himself and maybe this will eventually pass… Maybe being close to Buffy will help."

Tara fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, "Do you think he'll be alright?"

"I— it's probably just going to take him some time to sort through everything. At least I hope so—"

Xander was pacing the floor in Buffy's kitchen. The cot was set up in the basement with extra blankets and the shackles were secured into the wall, and per Willow's instructions the basement had been cleared of anything Spike might be able to hurt himself with. The fact that Willow had asked him to get the basement ready had been half expected, but the idea of having to sweep the place for stakes had given him pause.

Over the past couple of weeks, Xander had come to the conclusion that, although Spike was not his favorite person in the world, he did make Buffy happier than she had been since her resurrection. Even before that, if he was being honest. The idea that Spike might have any inclination of hurting himself because of a guilt laden soul they helped him get. Anything that hurt Spike at this point would hurt Buffy, and that was something he simply could not abide.

Xander had taken the liberty of calling Anya, asking her to keep Buffy and Dawn out as long as possible. From the sound of Dawn squealing over something in the background and Buffy's laughter, it didn't seem like it was going to take much effort to keep them out of the house. After that he decided to make a run to the butcher shop for extra blood. He had been busy for the past several hours and now all he had left to do was wait. He glanced at the clock, even with Anya doing her best to stall them, he wasn't sure how much time they would have.

The back door handle clicked, making his head snap up to see Willow leading Spike in by the arm, Tara behind him. "Bloody hell, Red. What are you doing bringing me here?" Spike was complaining drunkenly. His voice sounded oddly distant and he barely seemed able to walk upright.

Willow ignored him, passing him off to Xander who furrowed his brow, "What's wrong with him? Is he drunk?"

Willow looked exhausted. She shook her head, "No, it's a spell to make him a little more compliant so we could get him home."

"Like a magic roofy?"

Willow grimaced, "Can we think of it more like tranquilizing a tiger and just get him downstairs already?"

"Come on dead-boy, got you a nice cozy spot all set up," Xamder groused as he pushed a dazed Spike in front of him, guiding him down the basement stairs ahead of him. Willow and Tara followed behind them.

"You're sure you didn't leave anything he can hurt himself with?" Willow asked tensely as she watched Spike slump down onto the cot robotically.

"Yeah, Will— but eh, what's the deal? He's like spooky calm."

"Because I'm maintaining the spell. Just get the shackles on please, so we can all get some sleep."

Xander frowned, but did as he was asked, putting the shackles on Spike. He stepped back and turned to Willow who had gone very still, she murmured a word and collapsed down onto an overturned laundry basket.

Spike began looking around a little dazed. He shook his fists rattling his chains and looked up expectantly at the three people in front of him. "Don't remember signing up for this kind of a party—" he muttered and attempted to focus on Tara, "What happened? Did I hurt anyone?"

"Just yourself," Tara answered quietly.

Spike nodded at that, "Well that's alright then. Where's the sun?"

Xander made a face, "Probably on the other side of the planet I'd guess. It's nighttime buddy."

Spike laid back onto the cot as comfortably as the shackles would allow, muttering softly, "Night and day, day and night. The night longs after the day but the sun shines too bright, killing the night—"

"What the hell is that about?" Xander murmured into Tara's ear as Spike continued waxing poetic.

Tara chewed the inside of her cheek and grabbed one of the blankets to put it over Spike in an effort to make him as comfortable as possible. "He's kind of been doing that a lot."

Spike grasped Tara's hand, eyes wide, "Did you know the sun is a star?"

Tara gently removed her hand from his, "Just get some rest alright?"

Willow nodded, "Sort of sun obsessed for a vampire."

"Hence the shackles?" Xander asked.

"Hence the shackles," Willow confirmed.

Spike rocked his head to the side away from the rest of them, "Shackles were her favorite. The world burned and bled and we would laugh. Laughed until her daddy had his fill of her. The screams— sweet screams, never for me— even when I was hers she was always his—"

Xander cleared his throat, "Please tell me I'm not the only one who really doesn't want to dissect that one."

"Hum yeah, no…" Willow gave a little shudder.

Tara moved over to her girlfriend, laying her hand on her shoulder, "Come on sweetie, we could all use some sleep."

The three of them turned to leave Spike alone to his rambling, only to find Buffy standing on the stairs with her arms folded over her chest. "Anyone like to explain why Spike is chained up in my basement?"

At the sound of her voice Spike hurried to stand up, throwing off the blanket and completely disregarding the jangling chains. He stood with the back of his legs pressed against the cot, blue eyes gazing at her longingly, "A beauty so great she glows, with a light to make even Aurora rage with envy…" he uttered fervently.

Buffy blinked several times, blushing, "Ehh, thanks— I think—" she came down the rest of the stairs and Spike sat back down onto the cot watching her like a cat watches a bird. "What's wrong with Spike?"

"Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon…"

"And why is he quoting Shakespeare?" She asked quizzically.

Willow hesitated, looking from Buffy to Spike. She laid a hand on Spike's shoulder murmuring the same sleeping spell she had used on him in the cave. He slumped to the side and Willow hurriedly arranged his limbs more comfortably on the cot. "I promise, he is going to be fine, Buffy. We just— he needs some time," she said nervously as she turned back to Buffy, "but, humm I guess we need to talk."

Buffy sat in the living room listening to her friends explain the situation. How Spike had come to Tara first and how Willow had managed to figure out how to restore his soul without a curse.

Buffy bit her cheek, "Did Spike tell you why he felt the need to get his soul?"

Willow got very quiet. "Buffy. I really think that's something you need to talk to him about."

"Yeah well he's a little sleepy for that now, Will!"

"He wouldn't have been able to tell you anything right now anyway." Willow hesitated. She had hoped Buffy would have been gone a little longer and they could just tactfully keep her out of the basement at least for a day or two. Taking their time to see how Spike was doing and explain it all to her rationally. But now she was seriously worried about losing her friend if Spike didn't bounce back the way she hoped he would. "He's pretty out of it— not exactly big on the sane-coherent thoughts right now," Willow whined. She was hoping against hope that he would snap out of it quickly. The fact of the matter was that she had no idea how long it would take him to work through everything.

Buffy glared icily, "Willow? You've made it clear he asked for this. What I want to know is why." Her anger was hovering just under the surface.

"He's— I think he has a few reasons…"

"Ahh huhh, well right now I'd like to hear at least one."

Willow cleared her throat, "Well I know he's been really stressed about being a good dad."

"He— but he hasn't said anything—"

"I don't think he wanted to worry you," Willow answered apologetically.

Dawn strode into the living room in her slippers and pajamas, "So it's done? Spike has his soul back?"

Everyone gaped at her.

Buffy had a look of utter betrayal on her face, "You knew he was doing this?"

Dawn nodded, "I heard them talking about it and confronted Spike. He explained everything…"

"Mind explaining to me? Because these guys don't seem very big on the whole answer giving thing." Buffy snapped.

Dawn sighed, "He doesn't think he's good enough for you, Buffy. He's trying to prove himself worthy of you."

Buffy felt like a sword had just been rammed through her chest, "He what?"

"He says he doesn't want you to have to stoop down to his level to love him. Or something like that— He hum… said you and the babies deserve better…"

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "He said— oh god no- that's what he meant— his promise— I just thought he meant— no… but why didn't—" Buffy clasped a hand over her mouth, "this is all my fault—" Tears started to burn at the back of her eyes, and then a thought hit her, and she looked back up, "Who else knew?"

Willow bit her lip, "Just the Scoobies, we didn't even know Dawn knew…"

"So literally everyone knew and just didn't tell me? Why the hell didn't anyone think I should know about something like this?!" She yelled. Her blood was starting to boil.

"Buff, it wasn't like that, it was— sort of a surprise," Xander said unconvincingly, "ya know, like a baby shower gift."

Willow shot Xander a desperate glance, "Seriously not helping, Xan!"

Buffy gaped at him, "A baby shower gift?" she replied incredulously. Her anger flared even higher, "A soul is not— its—" she stood up abruptly, "I need to get some air— I need to- I just need to get out of here."

"Buffy, wait! You can't—" Willow started but stopped when Buffy gave her a murderous look.

"Can't? I might be pregnant but I'm still the Slayer. My boyfriend is currently in the basement pulling a Sleeping Beauty act and the same witch that ripped me out of heaven into a massive pile of debt, is responsible for all of it!"

Willow looked like someone had gutted a kitten in front of her, tears had started to fall, "He asked for our help. He did it for you Buffy we all did it for you—" she broke off with a sob, "I was just trying to make things right!"

"Yeah, Buff, this was all supposed to be of the good," Xander said in a calming tone.

Tara wrapped her arms around Willow's shoulders, "They're right you know." She said to Buffy, "We know we screwed up by not telling you but you have to see that we all meant well."

Buffy just couldn't take it anymore, a part of her knew they were at least somewhat right but she was still angry. Angry at them, angry at Spike… most of all angry, at herself for making him feel like he had to do something this drastic in order for her to love him.

She had been holding back for so long she wasn't even sure why she was still doing it. Fear? Habit? Or maybe a part of her really still believed it couldn't be real unless he had a soul.

God, Spike, what did you do? I need to get out of here…

Buffy turned her hard gaze onto each of them in turn, landing on her sister last. "And where's your two cents?"

She shrugged coolly, "Spike wanted this because he thought you wanted it. He didn't tell you about it because he knew you'd try to stop him but he thought it would be better for the babies if he did it anyway. These guys just helped him do it safely."

Dawn might've well punched her in the gut. Why the hell does that sound so damn logical? She's just a kid! She's not supposed to be all insightfully and crap!

"I'm sorry— I- I have to go—" she pushed past them, heading straight for the door, mumbling something about fresh air and grabbing her coat. Tears stung her eyes and she didn't even try to hold them back. She didn't stop to listen to her friend's protest or pause as her lungs filled with cool night air. She just walked. Walked and walked and walked some more. She didn't know how long it was before she finally got the tears to stop and her breathing under control. The movement of her legs as she walked seemed to help order her thoughts.

It took her a lot longer than it should have for her to realize she had taken the long way to Spike's crypt. Even knowing he wasn't there, his crypt had become a safe place for her. A place of comfort and— love? She winced inwardly at the word.

I just want him to be okay. I want him to know how stupid he has been and— how much it pisses me off that he made this kind of a decision without— without talking to me about it…

She opened the door to his crypt, drinking in the silence and made her way down to the lower floor. Spike's bed was made, he had tidied up his room, everything was oddly clean and in its place. Not that he was a slob but he wasn't exactly a clean freak either, not by a long shot.

"God, Spike, why didn't you just talk to me?" She asked aloud to the empty room. The sound of her voice resonated oddly in her ears. Buffy sat down heavily onto the edge of the bed and cradled her little belly in her hands for several long moments. A renewed round of tears streaked down her face, "Your daddy is such an idiot—" she sobbed and laid down on her side. She pulled the bedspread around herself.

Things had just started getting better. She was just starting to make sense of her life and now it felt like the rug had been ripped out from underneath her feet. The shoe she had been waiting to drop turned out to be one of the Gene Simmons-Demon variety. All because she couldn't find it in herself to love him back before it was too late. Before he had already made up his mind. She had wanted to say the words so desperately the other night.

And he was being so weird—

I should have known better… I should have known something was wrong when he kept stopping me from saying it… I should have seen something…

There was a small fluttering feeling in her belly, very low and she moved her hand back to her baby bump. Half convinced she had imagined it— Or maybe it's just gas.

And then it happened again. A quick little flicker of feeling. Something in her chest broke and suddenly all she wanted was to feel Spike's arms around her. She borrowed her face into his pillow, the scent of the soap he used still clinging to it. The babies flitting around like a couple of butterflies.

He should know about this. Spike would love to hear me try to describe this to him… What if he changes so much I don't even know who he is? Do I have to get to know him all over again?

Spike has to be alright— he has to be— I can't do this without him…