Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own ‘em. I just take them out and play with them. No money, no infringement, yadda yadda yadda. I’m poor so don’t sue.

Pairings: Buffy/Spike: Post "The Gift"

Summary: The aftermath of Buffy’s death. Spoilers for the season finale

Rating: PG

 

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Promise to a Lady

By Terri Botta (2001)

 

 

//I’m counting on you to protect her.//

//’Til the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight.//

//We’re not all going to make it. You know that.//

//I always knew I’d go down fighting.//

‘Buffy… Oh Buffy. It was supposed to be me…’

//I know you’ll never love me. I know that I’m a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that’s…//

//I don’t smell a soul anywhere on you. Why do you even care?//

//I made a promise to a lady.//

Tears on his face, blood on his face, wrenching sobs that wracked his beaten body and he had no strength to stop them. He tried to stand, to make his way to the still and silent form, but his legs wouldn’t hold him. At least one of them was broken. Still, he had to get to her, had to reach her.

"Spike."

//I made a promise…//

Sun coming up. Pale, golden light inching its way over her body, keeping her out of his reach. He’d burn if he tried to go any further, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Could any physical pain be more than the desolate, heart-tearing grief he felt now?

"Spike."

//I made a promise//

Just a little further and he could touch her. //Buffy…//

"Spike!"

Dawn! Dawn’s voice, thick with tears, calling him out of his horrified reverie, and he tore his eyes from the battered, broken body of his love to meet the teenager’s ashen face.

"Dawn," he choked, but it came out as a sob as the tears began anew, and he lost control. And then, she was in his arms, hugging him as tight as she could, comforting him, being the strong one because he couldn’t, not now. Not with her death so raw and bleeding inside of him.

"She… she told me to be strong. She told me to give her love to her friends…" Dawn gasped, and the words only made him cry harder.

They clung to each other, two orphans tossed by the storm, and in that tempest he found something to hold on to.

//I’m counting on you to protect her.//

//I made a promise to a lady.//

Dawn.

Dawn was all he had left of Buffy now and he was damn certain that he would keep his promise. It was the only thing that was keeping him from throwing himself into the morning light. Sniffing, he smelled her blood. Inside, he knew that if the portal had opened, that she had to have been cut and bleeding. She probably needed seen to by a doctor… Okay, something to do. One thing at a time. Get Dawn to a doctor.

"Nibblet?" he managed.

"Yes?" came the small reply.

"You okay? You cut bad?"

"It hurts."

Instinctively he knew she wasn’t just talking about the physical pain.

"I know."

Small hand on his chest, pushing him gently away, eyes meeting eyes.

"We have to get out of here. We have to get you inside."

He managed a small smile. "Don’t worry about me, luv. I’ll be alright."

It was Willow who finally got them all together. All moving in one dazed, grief-numbed group. Spike would have liked to have been the one to carry Buffy’s body, but his broken leg could barely hold his own weight let alone the weight of two. As it was, Dawn was practically holding him up, as they staggered, arms around each other, away from the carnage, and he wondered briefly who was taking care of who in that moment. Did she know? Did she know that she was his only link to life right now? Was that why she clung to him so tightly, her fingers digging into his clothing like ten claws? He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. She was real. She was safe. And, oddly, no one was challenging his unspoken claim on her. For now, that was all he could handle. The rest would come later.

To the hospital they went in a van stolen from the construction site. There to admit Dawn for treatment of her shallow, but dangerous cuts in her abdomen. There to hand over the lifeless body of his love for the doctors to declare officially dead. There to stand numbly as both his women were taken away, one to the morgue and one to triage as nurses took in his own battered form and tried to convince him to admit himself. He refused. There was too much to do.

Going back to his crypt via the sewers that ran under the hospital, he gathered his meager belongings. He was moved into the Summers’ basement by noon. He’d live there now. Close to Dawn. Protecting her. He returned to the hospital before sundown. Driving his black DeSoto into the parking lot and making his way to the waiting room. No one seemed surprised to see him when he limped in.

"Willow’s gone to tell Angel. Tara went with her," Xander said without preamble.

"Dawn?" he asked, his voice tight with the pain he was fighting. He’d have to set his leg soon or it wouldn’t heal properly.

"They moved her to a room. They’re keeping her overnight for observation. Abdominal wounds have a nasty tendency to get infected. They have her on intravenous antibiotics," Giles replied.

"She’s been asking for you," Anya admitted.

He nodded and turned to Giles, his hand gesturing towards the double doors that led to the patient rooms. The Watcher’s eyes met his, something flashing briefly through them, then lowered.

"She’s in room 217."

"Thank you."

The words weren’t just for the room number, and somehow Giles knew it for the human took a deep shaky breath before raising his eyes to meet Spike’s again. They didn’t speak. There was no need to. After a moment, Spike broke the contact and made his way to Dawn’s room.

No one followed him into the tiny room that held the slight form on the sterile bed. The others. They knew. They had to know for still none challenged him, challenged his place by Dawn’s side. The teenager turned her head to him as he came in, her eyes soft and relieved.

"Spike," she said as he moved to her bedside and took her hand in his.

"I’m here, Lil’ Bit."

"Where’d you go?"

"To take care of a few things while they were fixin’ you up. I’m no good at waiting around. Thought it best to be productive."

"No one knew where you went."

He gave her hand a gentle pat. "Like I said, pet, taking care of things. Makin’ it so’s I can take better care of you."

She gave him a tired smile and he pressed on.

"I moved some of my stuff into your basement. Gonna be stayin’ there from now on. Be closer to you."

The smile widened, showing a hint of white teeth. "That’s cool. I’d like that."

"I promised Big Sis I’d protect you, so from now on it’s just you and me,

kid," he told her, proud of himself that he could say the words without bursting into sobbing tears.

The hand in his tight ened and squeezed reassuringly. "Yeah."

His vision clouded with tears and pain, his leg throbbing. "No one’s ever gonna hurt you ever again. They wanna get to you, they gotta go through me."

"They gotta go through the Big Bad," she teased softly.

God, how could she be so strong? How could she be strong enough to make jokes? Then he looked into her eyes and knew the truth. Knew that she wasn’t strong, she was just as torn up and desperate as he was, and clinging to him as tightly as he was clinging to her.

"Damn right. You and me against the world, until the end of the world," he vowed.

Tears spilled and fell down white and rosy cheeks. "Thank you, Spike."

"I… I always uphold my end of the d-d-deal," he stammered, losing it again.

His leg gave out and he slumped down into the chair next to her bed, his hand never letting hers go. He placed the other over his face, ashamed that she was seeing him in such a state, but then her hand tugged on his and he found himself slumped over the side of the bed, his face buried against her arm.

"I’m so sorry, Lil’ Bit. I’m so sorry."

"Don’t be sorry, Spike. You did everything you could."

"No. I let that bugger get the best of me and toss me off that tower. If I’d’ve beaten him…"

"You were still weak from when Glory beat you up so badly, and from your hands getting all cut up by those Knights. And he stabbed you…"

"But it was supposed to be me! I was supposed to be the one to die, not her. Not her. Not bloody her. I was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory, go down fighting, knowing she never loved me but willing to die for her," he blurted.

Small hand stroking his head, soothing as he cried. "Buffy... Buffy told me that the hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it. We have to be brave. We have to live for her and take care of each other. And she did love you, Spike. I know she did."

The soft words flayed open his already raw and bleeding wounds, and he wept uncontrollably, clutching her hand as tightly as he dared. "Oh God."

"She loved you. And Mom loved you. And I love you. You’re all I’ve got left now, Spike."

He raised his face to look at her. "And I’ll never leave you, Lil’ Bit. They’ll have to kill me first."

She set her jaw and nodded, eyes resolved and sad, and they stared at each other as he got himself under control.

"How’s your leg?" she asked suddenly.

"It hurts. I’ve gotta set it."

"You should go home. You look terrible. Do you need Giles or Xander to bring you blood?"

He shook his head. "No. I ate back at my crypt. Had a couple of packs in the fridge."

"Still, you need to rest. Your leg’s all broken and I’m sure you’ve got other wounds."

"Nothing that won’t mend in time," he assured. ‘At least physically. Everything else…’ No he had to be strong now. Dawn needed him and he’d made a promise to Buffy.

"’Sides, if I know my Grandsire, he’ll come winging back here as soon as Will gives him the news, and I wanna be here when he gets here. I need ta talk to him." He stroked her hair tenderly. "You should rest too, Lil’ Bit. You’ve had a bitch of a day. Go on to sleep. Big Bad’s here."

She gave a nod and a tired sigh, and he watched her as she settled back onto the mattress and closed her eyes. Lying there in the pale, harsh light, she looked so frail and small, and all of his protective instincts rose to the fore.

‘This one. This little one. All I have left of Buffy. She is mine and I will protect her with my life.’

He waited until her breathing slowed before going to turn out the overhead lights. Then he moved the chair, placing it between the bed and the door in an obvious position of defense, and sat back into it. Gripping his leg and trying not to scream from the pain, he set the bone with a quick snap, and slumped back, exhausted, heart sore and soul weary. Lying there, sprawled over the chair with his leg straight out, he tuned his vampiric senses into Dawn’s vitals and tried to relax. He’d wake the instant there was danger, the moment Dawn’s breathing or heart rate changed. Closing his eyes, he fell into a fitful sleep.

No one bothered him. Later, Spike would wonder if Giles had something to do with that because he had vague memories of hearing the Watcher’s voice speaking to someone in the doorway.

"He’s her brother, you see, from a previous marriage. They’re very close. Poor Dawn’s lost her mother and sister in such a short time. If he’s not there when she wakes, I fear it will traumatize her more than is necessary. As long as he’s not in the way, what harm could it do to let him stay?"

The nurse had reluctantly agreed.

Sometime several hours later, in what had to be the wee hours of the morning, Spike woke abruptly. Disoriented at first, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he had gotten there, then another to rein in the crushing grief. Now was not the time for weakness. He had awakened because another of his kind was approaching; he could feel it. Rising to his feet, he quickly assessed his situation, judging whether he was up to fighting. He leg had set at the very least, but it was far from healed. Any stress on the bone and it would snap like dry tinder. Still, if there was a threat to Dawn, he’d have to risk it. Briefly, he wondered where the rest of the Scoobies were, then spared another thought to determine what items in the room could be used as weapons. All of his hasty planning was for naught, however, as a vampire as familiar to him as himself came through the door.

"Spike," the newcomer said, his voice harsh and raw.

He shifted into a defensive position, hands clenched into loose fists. "Angel. Been wondering when you were gonna get here. Little late aren’t you, Poof."

He saw Angel take a deep breath. "I didn’t come here to fight with you, Spike."

"No? Well maybe I need a good fight. Maybe I need to kill something right now."

Angel regarded him calmly. "I don’t doubt it." Eyes never leaving his Grandchilde’s angry, grieving gaze, he stepped closer, speaking softly.

"Willow just spent the better part of three hours convincing me not to throw you out the window when we got here.

"Yeah? Well, good for her. I always knew Red was on my side."

Angel ignored the last jibe and continued with what he had been about to say. "She told me how you’ve been helping them, how you fought by their sides, how you protected Dawn. How you did everything you could in the fight against Glory at great risk to yourself. How you were willing to sacrifice your life for Buffy and her sister. How much you… loved Buffy."

He stopped just inches from Spike’s face, and they stared at each other for long moments, then Angel’s lower lip began to quiver and Spike’s eyes began to tear up.

"Thank you," the elder vampire whispered. "I’m so proud of you."

"But she’s dead, Angel," Spike said, his voice breaking, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. "She’s dead."

"I know. But she died knowing that her death would not be in vain; that those she loved would be protected. She had a purpose, a destiny."

"Rot. She died to protect me? I’m a bleedin’ monster. She was worth ten of me. She told me we weren’t all gonna make it. I thought I’d be the one to go. I was alright with that. But now I’m the one left behind. Now what do I do?"

Angel put his arms around his Grandchilde, pulling him close. "You live. You keep your promise and you protect Dawn."

"Always," Spike choked as they both broke down and wept unashamedly.

In the hallway, ignoring the withering glares of the night staff, Willow and Cordelia stood listening to the wracking sobs that echoed from the room. Cordelia hugged herself, her own face red and puffy from tears as Willow put a hand on her shoulder.

"It’s all right, Cordelia. We’ll get through this."

"I know. But right now I don’t see how."
 
 

When there were no more tears to cry and his leg hurt so badly he could barely stand, Spike pried himself from his Grandsire’s grip and slumped back into the chair. Angel walked over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping girl, his hands on the rail.

"At least she’s resting," Angel noted.

"I think they gave her a sedative."

Angel nodded. "How badly was she hurt?"

"Not too bad. Couple of shallow slashes on her belly. They sewed her right up. She’ll prolly go home tomorrow."

"That’s good."

"I’m goin’ with her. Gonna live there from now on. Already moved my stuff into the basement. Thought it’d be better…"

Angel gave a grunt of agreement and turned to face his Grandchilde. "Do you need anything from me?"

Spike raised blue eyes to his Grandsire, his face open and honest. "Yeah. I need to you ta work your magic. Make me goin’ home with her all legal-like."

"You want guardianship?"

Spike nodded. "Somethin’ like that. I’ll share it with the Watcher or her bloody wanker of a father, but I want a say, all dotted and signed. Staff here already thinks I’m her brother from a previous marriage. You make it look good so no one thinks twice. You got connections I don’t."

Angel pursed his lips. "I’ll do my best."

"Good. Thanks."

Angel bowed his head and looked down. "I’ll stay through the… until after the…"

He stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Spike understood nonetheless.

"Yeah. Thanks. Lil’ Bit’ll be happy to know that. She always liked you."

Angel chuckled. "No, she always treated me like an alien. It was you she liked. She couldn’t stop talking about you after you came back. When you wanted Willow to do that love spell so you could get Dru back. Wanted to know all about you. Thought you were so cool…"

He didn’t finish, suddenly realizing that the memory he had wasn’t real at all, but a construction of images conjured up by the monks who had created Dawn. None of it had really happened, and yet he could remember it so clearly.

"Mojo stuff’s always wacky, Angel. You should know that. After Darla was mojoed back from the dead, you’da thought you’d be used to it by now," Spike said, as always using his uncanny and unique talent of knowing exactly what was going on inside someone’s head. In the beginning Angel had thought his Grandchilde was psychic or at least a mind reader, but years of knowing the other vampire had taught him that Spike was just incredibly perceptive and insightful.

He took a deep breath. "Yeah." Then he voiced the unspeakable. "Too bad there’s no foolproof spell to bring Buffy back."

"Foolproof being the operative word there, mate. You know those spells are bad news. Lil’ Bit tried it when her mum died. Thank God she had the brains enough to stop it. If I’d known she actually go through with it, I never would’ve helped her as much as I did. Got to beat up a Ghora demon though…" Spike answered.

"I know. I know there’s no spell to bring Buffy back…"

"But that doesn’t mean you don’t wish there was. Join the club."

Angel nodded. "I meant what I said. I’m proud of you. You’ve changed a great deal since we last met."

"Yeah, well, gettin’ wired for sound had a lot ta do with that."

"Maybe. But you were always different from the rest of us. Sometimes I wondered if you’d kept your soul after you Turned. You had such capacity to feel, to love. You always did. For a while I thought you had Turned wrong, but in time I came to understand that you simply were that way, that much of William had survived inside of you."

Spike growled. "William was a bloody nancyboy pillock."

"William was a gentleman; a man of honor. A man who would keep his promise to a lady at all costs."

Spike snorted but said nothing as Angel continued. "William lives in you, Spike. He’s made you what you are. And if that chip in your head has allowed him the opportunity to show himself more often, then I’m grateful."

"Grateful? Oh please! Now I know you’ve completely lost it. The only thing this bloody chip has brought me is misery. I wish they’d’ve just killed me and gotten it over with. As it is I’m dying a slow and painful death. Can’t kill. Can’t be what I am. Hunted by humans and demons alike, hated. Stuck drinking bagged blood and relying on charity…" Spike complained.

"Able to be there when she needed you. Able to help her when she needed help. Able to fight by her side and protect her sister. Able to earn her forgiveness and love," Angel corrected.

"She never loved me!"

"That’s not what Willow told me. I think, in the end, she was starting to see you as something other than her hated enemy. And you. I think you’ve always loved her, even before you were chipped. You had many opportunities to kill Buffy, but you never took them. I’d wondered then, but now it’s very clear to me. You never lost your ability to love. For a long time I thought it was your greatest weakness, but inside I envied you. You still knew what it felt like…"

"Stop!" Spike shouted a little too loudly, then drew a deep, shaky breath. "Look. I can’t… I can’t do this right now. I can’t get into this with you. I’m hurting, and grieving, and at my wits end. It’s all I can do to keep myself together and do what needs done. I gotta look after Dawn. I gotta see her through this. Everything else takes a backseat to that. You just do what I need you to do for me, and we’ll come back to this subject when I’m not a pathetic wreck. Okay?"

Hearing everything his Grandchilde was saying, spoken and unspoken, Angel backed down. "Okay."

He pushed himself away from the rail of Dawn’s hospital bed and moved to put a hand on Spike’s shoulder. The younger vampire looked up at him, the open and honest look back on his youthful face. The look touched the tenderness in him. On some level, it always had.

"You should get some more rest. Your leg’s not healed yet, I can tell. Rest and blood will help. Do you?…" He touched his sleeve, rolling the cuff up a bit.

Spike blinked a couple of times before shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" Angel pressed. "It would help…"

"I’m sure. Not here. But maybe later. When Lil’ Bit and I are back home. Maybe then."

Angel rolled his sleeve back down. "Okay. I… I’m gonna go now. I haven’t been down…"

Spike nodded, the grief hitting him hard in the gut as he thought of Buffy’s body down in the morgue. "Yeah. Thanks for coming."

Angel moved to leave. "If you need me…"

"I know where to find you. Yeah, right. Thanks."

With a final nod and pat, Angel bowed his head and walked out of the hospital room. After he was gone, Spike moved closer to Dawn’s bed, reaching for her hand and holding it, resting his forehead against the side of the mattress. He let himself cry for just a little while before pulling himself back together. Tonight was for grieving but tomorrow was just the beginning of all that was to come. Tomorrow he would have to be strong. Tomorrow he would have to live and take care of Dawn.
 
 

Two months later…

Spike wiped the stove one last time, making sure the appliance was clean. It was no good to have a dirty house, not when Social Services was liable to show up for a ‘Spot Check’ at any time. Ever since the custody hearing where he, Giles and Angel’s high powered lawyers had arranged for him to have guardianship over Dawn even though he wasn’t blood kin, he’d been taking flak from ‘concerned’ social workers. They’d already ‘dropped by’ twice. Dropped by. He’d wished he could’ve dropped them- right off a building. But instead he had to play nice and try to convince them that ‘a handsome young bachelor such as himself’ was perfectly capable of taking care of a fourteen… natch… almost fifteen year old girl. So far he was pretty sure he’d impressed them. So far he’d impressed everyone. Giles was amazed at how well he kept house, said he never realized how domestic Spike could be. Domestic?! DOMESTIC?! Oh how the mighty had fallen. He’d gone from The Big Bad to Domestic. It made him want to heave.

But really, what did they expect? Spike had decades of caregiving experience. He’d taken care of Drucilla for over a century; nursed her after Prague, and if anyone thought that taking care of an insane vampire was easy, well… Compared to Dru, Dawn was a walk in the park. At least a human teenage female was predictable. Hell, half the time he knew what was going on in her head before she did. And he was a good parental figure, firm when he needed to be but flexible enough to give her support and guidance. She respected him and adored him, and he adored her. He also protected her. Viciously. When he was defending Dawn, nothing got in his way. Not even The Chip.

It wasn’t long before he discovered that he could and would endure any pain to protect his charge. He found that his resolve and will were enough to overcome the pain caused by The Chip- long enough for him to do what needed to be done. He paid for it afterwards with blinding headaches that knocked him flat on his bum for hours, but they only came after Dawn was safe. The endurance translated somewhat to his own defense. He found that when threatened by a human, he was able to moderately defend himself. He couldn’t do any offensive maneuvers, but he could punch and shove when attacked- enough to get away. It seemed that protecting Dawn also meant staying alive.

His endurance was the one thing that had saved his reputation with Dawn’s friends. A dim-witted jock had been stupid enough to accost Dawn at the Bronze one evening when Spike was with her. After repeated attempts to convince the young man that Dawn was not interested and he needed to get lost, Spike finally lost his temper and tossed the kid clear over a pool table. He then proceeded to do the same with any of the jock’s friends who tried to visit retribution on him. The resulting repercussions had earned him the reputation of Dawn Summers’ Big Bad Big Brother and no one gave Dawn any trouble. Which was fine with him, except that now all of Dawn’s friends thought he was fascinatingly wonderful, and he would be surrounded by tittering, teenage female hormone bombs every time they went out.

It wasn’t so bad, really, except for the fact that he could smell their pheromones and it sometimes drove him crazy. An outcast from his own kind and unable to pass as human after a good feed, he found himself sorely lacking in the romance department. Not that he was looking for any kind of love. His heart belonged to Buffy and would probably stay there, but still, a little sex every now and then would have been nice. He’d thought about buttering Harmony up a bit in hopes of getting a good shag out of her, but then decided against it. Harmony was a threat to Dawn and no threats to Dawn were to be entertained. Ever.

So he stayed celibate, and for the most part he was all right with it. There were other things that were more important than sex, and he had good days and bad days. On good days, he was domestic- cooking, cleaning, making snacks for Dawn. On one of his best days, he had taken Dawn to the Pound to get a dog.

He still remembered that day. It’d been a miserable, rainy day- perfect for vampires to go out in daytime. He’d picked up Nibblet from school and they had gone straight to the animal shelter. Walking in during the worst thunderstorm of the day, they were met by a wet volunteer who blinked at them in surprise.

"How may I help you?" she had asked.

He had turned to Nibblet and she had smiled up at him.

"A dog."

He had nodded and then looked at the volunteer. "Right then. Show us your death row."

"Excuse me?" the volunteer had stammered.

"Your death row. Y’know the ones who’re almost outta time. We wanna see them."

"Oh. Well…" The volunteer had gestured to a row of cages against a back wall.

Without another word, they had walked purposefully over to the cages. She’d been a shy little thing, all cowered in a run she shared with another pup. A mutt of indeterminate lineage, she had looked like a cross between a German shepherd and a Sheltie with maybe some other herding dog tossed in. A thick medium-length soft black and brown coat covered her and her stump of a tail. She had been submissive, but her eyes had been hopeful and pleading as she crawled on her belly towards them when they came to stand outside her run. She was also the only one who had been willing to lick Spike’s hand. With that one gesture of trust, her fate had been sealed. They took her with them that very day thanks to Spike’s Big Bad attitude, and she had curled in Dawn’s lap all the way home. They had named her Annie and she’d turned into a delightful pet, devoted and loyal to her owners. The day they had brought Annie home had been a very good day.

On his bad days, he Slayed. He Slayed with a savagery and ruthlessness that frightened even him sometimes. On those days he let out all of his pain, anguish, loneliness and rage at the world, and unleashed it upon demon-kind. The demon, Doc, the one responsible for Buffy’s death, had been the first one he’d killed. Armed with the knowledge that the demon had survived his fall after Buffy knocked him off the tower, Spike had hunted him down and made certain that he was well and truly dead before leaving his body strewn in multiple pieces all over Sunnydale.

The demon underworld was terrified of him and avoided him at all costs when he was on a rampage. He’d been known to hunt in daytime, scouring the sewers and demon safe havens for victims. He would fight and kill and spill blood until there was nothing left in his path, then he would stagger home, coming in during the early hours of the morning. The lover Wiccas were usually the ones watching Dawn on those nights, and they’d meet him at the door with understanding and no small amount of fear in their eyes. He’d touch them, kiss their foreheads- needing contact to make him feel like something other than the merciless killer he’d just been, and thank them for looking after Dawn. Dawn never saw him when he was like that, he made sure of it. Then he would wash the blood and gore from his body, crawl into his lonely, empty bed in the basement, and sleep until it was time to get Dawn ready for school.

No matter what kind of day he had, however, he always took at least a short patrol. He wouldn’t tolerate any fledgling vamps skulking about the cemetery or, God forbid, near the house. Sometimes the whelp and his ex-demon mate went with him, sometimes the Witch, but mostly he patrolled alone. Usually the patrols weren’t much of a bother or even a challenge, but it gave him something to do and he could also visit Buffy.

He kept her grave free of weeds and trash. Only once had someone been stupid enough to sully her resting place, and he’d made that one pay in pain and blood. He brought fresh flowers on a regular basis. Sometimes he would just sit and have conversations with his dead love and her mother, telling them all that was going on and unburdening his heart. He hoped that they would have been proud of him, taking up Slaying, taking care of Dawn, living- if only by a thread. He was trying to be strong, but his grief was still a raw and living thing inside of him. He fully planned to guide and protect Dawn until she died of natural causes, then he would find the current Slayer and let her stake him. Once Dawn was gone, he would have nothing left and his promise would be fulfilled. In his particularly morbid moods, he wondered if he could ever redeem himself enough in the eyes of the Powers That Be to earn him the right to be with Buffy after he died. Or perhaps not be with her, but at least to see her one more time. On more than one occasion Willow had found him crying at her grave. He’d go there to weep, when the pain got too much, so Dawn wouldn’t see him. She’d sit with him, and they wouldn’t speak. What words could be said anyway? None that would mean anything or bring any comfort. When he had pulled himself together, he would give her a quick hug and then walk slowly home.

Two nights ago while visiting Buffy, he’d been attacked by what only could be the current Slayer. He’d fended her off, managing to get a lucky shot and knock her down long enough for him to run away as fast as he could. He’d come home, barely able to stand from the migraine that was building from The Chip, and in the time it took for Dawn to run into the kitchen to get a wet towel, he had filled Xander and Anya in on what had happened, careful to make sure Dawn did not hear. Xander had promised to talk to Giles. He had heard that the new Slayer was coming to Sunnydale to guard the Hellmouth but he hadn’t known that she had arrived. Giles would know and Giles would take care of it. Spike had believed Xander. While he and the whelp would probably never be best mates, they had forged a tenuous friendship during the Glory Days as he liked to call them. Besides, they all knew he protected and loved Dawn, and that Dawn needed him. He figured Xander had taken care of it because there were no Slayers waiting for him when he patrolled last night.

He looked at the clock and smiled to himself. Dawn would be home soon. Giles was picking her up from school and classes had let out twenty minutes ago. Good. He had just enough time to make a snack for her. The last few days, she’d been hungry when she got home, so he’d gotten into the habit of having a sandwich ready for her when she got in. Another example of his nancyboy domesticity.

"You, Spike, are a bloody, kid-whipped wanker," he groused to himself as he fetched the sandwich makings. "The Scourge of Europe baking cookies and making lunch for a bloody teenage girl. Pillock. They’d laugh you right out of Hell."

Outside Annie barked at the back door, asking to be let in.

"Yeah yeah, ya mongrel. I’m coming," he sniped as he moved to open the door. The dog scampered in happily, her little stump of a tail wagging like mad, her mud covered paws tracking paw-prints all over the linoleum. "Oh bloody Hell! Come ‘ere you stupid mutt!" he yelled, lunging for the dog and grabbing her before she could get onto the carpet. He then began vigorously wiping off her dirty feet with a dishtowel, complaining all the while. "Track mud all over my clean floor, will you? Flea infested, brainless…"

He didn’t get any further as the back door was kicked in and he was faced with the figure of a girl holding a stake.

"Slayer…" he whispered to himself, too shocked to move for a moment, then Annie gave a high-pitched yipe and he dropped her. The little dog launched herself at the Slayer, snarling, and he watched as the girl struck out, throwing the animal into the kitchen cabinets.

"Wait!" he tried as she turned to him, stake raised.

"I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, vampire, but you won’t live long enough to explain it to me!"

"But I bleedin’ live here you idiot!" he snapped.

"Not anymore!"

She lunged at him and he faked away. He knew he couldn’t really hurt her, not with The Chip, but he could defend himself for a time. Besides, Dawn would be home soon. Dawn…

The knowledge that his charge could very well walk unknowingly into a deadly fight gave him courage and he fought back. The Chip was activating, but he was going into that space where the pain became detached and he was only vaguely aware of it. He kept her at bay as they made their way through the house, furniture smashing, things breaking. The photograph of Buffy and Dawn in the frame Dawn had made fell to the floor and broke into little pieces. He felt its loss. Annie had yet to make a reappearance and he wondered if the Slayer had seriously hurt the dog. Dawn would be crushed if anything had happened to her pet.

The Slayer had him cornered in the living room when Dawn came in. He heard her scream his name in abject terror. The Slayer heard her too, and turned in her direction.

"Get Giles!" he yelled and grabbed the Slayer from behind.

He saw Dawn run for the phone, probably to call Giles on his cell phone. Then the Slayer head-butted him and he lost his grip. She twisted around, kicking him in the stomach, and he went sailing back into an end table. Glass and wood shattered under his weight.

"You get away from him! Leave him alone!" he heard Dawn scream just as the teen tried to hit the Slayer over the head with a lamp.

Then the Slayer made a terrible mistake. She grabbed and slashed at Dawn, cutting her on the forearm. Dawn’s cry of pain and the scent of her blood triggered the protective instinct in Spike, and he rose up in a rage. Where before The Chip was keeping him from launching an offensive, now no manner of pain from it could stop him. Snarling, primal, his face in full demon form, he attacked, pummeling her mercilessly until he sent her flying through the air to hit the far wall with a sickening thud.

"You don’t come anywhere near her!" he seethed, placing himself between her and Dawn as she tried to pick herself up off the floor.

They were faced off, each prepared to kill the other if given half a chance when Giles came running in.

"Hope! STOP!" the Watcher ordered.

"Get out of here, I can handle this," the Slayer, Hope, answered.

"No! You don’t know what you’re doing!"

"I know what I’m doing! I’m killing a vampire! I know how to do my job, now get out of here!"

"If you knew your job, you’d know that this is Buffy Summers’ house and that’s her sister Dawn and that the vampire you’re trying to kill is Spike, Dawn’s protector and my friend!" Giles yelled.

The Slayer lowered her arm from its fighting stance, her face shocked.

"Dawn?"

"Yes. That’s Dawn and Spike."

"Spike?" she repeated.

"YES! Spike! Now explain to me what the hell you are doing here."

"I fought with him in the cemetery two nights ago and last night I followed him here," Hope said.

"You f-followed him?"

The threat passed, Spike relaxed, his game-face melting back to his human one, but with the relaxation came the migraine, blinding and debilitating. He groaned and collapsed to the floor, gripping his head. Dawn was beside him in an instant, helping him up to lie on the couch. Dimly he was aware that Giles and the Slayer were still talking but he couldn’t bring himself to care what was being said. Dawn was safe; that was all that mattered.

"Oh God…" he moaned, his head splitting.

"You hurt my dog! You BITCH!" Dawn cried, sending spikes of pain all through the vampire’s brain.

"I’m sorry. She tried to bite me…" Hope explained, but Dawn wasn’t paying any attention.

The teen sat on the couch next to Spike and placed a cold, wet washcloth over his eyes.

"Annie?" he choked.

"I think she’s okay. I found her cowering under the table. She’s limping a little on one foot, but I don’t think its bad."

"Good. You?"

"I’m okay too."

He groaned again. "Cut?"

"Not bad."

He sighed. "Good." Then winced from another wave of pain. It was going to be a bad one. He hadn’t had one this bad since he’d beat up that jock who was harassing Dawn.

"I’ll make you some blood with Tylenol Migraine in it," Dawn offered, getting off the couch.

"Thanks, pet. You’re a love."

Giles came close and spoke softly, knowing loud noises would make the pain worse. "Are you all right, Spike?"

"Yeah," he muttered, not bothering to lift the wet cloth from his eyes.

"Good. I’m going to take Hope out of here. I’ll ask Willow and the others if they can come by and help with clean-up."

"Thanks."

No more words were said, but Spike heard them leave. He also heard Dawn moving about the room, turning off lights and making the room as dark as possible before settling next to him. She had the drugged blood; he could smell it and he sat up long enough to drink it. Lying back down, he felt Dawn readjust the cloth over his eyes and stroke his hair.

"Hurt bad?" she whispered.

"Yeah."

"You really went after her. I’ve never seen you fight like that."

"She hurt you."

Dawn’s warm and welcome weight settled next to him on the couch, her upper torso draped across his own. She was resting against his chest, her head tucked under his chin, her hands curled into his shirt, and he put an arm around her, holding her close. He smelled the tears before he heard her sniffle.

"Pet?"

"She could’ve really hurt you or killed you. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop her."

"Nah, I coulda taken her in a heartbeat," he bluffed.

"But what if you hadn’t? What if she’d staked you?"

"Never gonna happen, luv."

"Everybody I love gets hurt or dies."

"That’s not true. I’m still here, aren’t I?"

"But for how long?"

"Until the end of the world."

The words only made Dawn cry harder and she clung to Spike. "I miss my mom. I miss Buffy."

"I know. I miss them too, Lil’ Bit. I miss them too."

He let her cry herself to sleep and stayed there with her on the couch. Not that he could move. Even with the migraine medication, he knew he wouldn’t be able to see straight or tolerate light or loud noise for at least several hours. Annie jumped up on the couch with them, licking their hands before settling down on his legs.

"Bloody mongrel," Spike grumbled, but it hurt to talk so he quieted down.

Lying there, holding Dawn, he allowed himself to feel as much peace and contentment as he could these days and soon he was drifting off too. Willow and Tara found them curled together, fast asleep when they arrived to help clean up the mess.
 
 

A heavy book landed on the bed in front of her, and Willow’s head shot up in alarm. She and Tara were watching Dawn while Spike patrolled, but since they had some things to do at home they were watching her at their apartment.

"Dawn!" Willow said with concern.

"Make her out of me," the teen demanded, pointing to the book. It was a book of high level spells.

"W-what?"

"Those monks, they made me out of Buffy. My blood and hers is the same, that’s how come she could close the portal instead of me. So if they made me out of Buffy, you can make Buffy out of me."

"Dawn, even if we knew what type of spell the monks used, we wouldn’t have any hope of repeating it," Tara tried to explain. "What they did… it’s never been done before and we have no idea how they did it. If we were to even attempt it, there’s no telling what could go wrong."

"Right, and… and we might be able to make her body but there’d be no guarantee that it would have a… a soul," Willow added. "We could end up with a dead body, or a zombie or… or worse."

"But I want Buffy back! I need her! Spike needs her!" Dawn insisted, starting to cry.

"Oh honey, we all miss her," Willow soothed, moving to hug the crying teen. "But sometimes people die and we miss them…"

"But… but…"

"Shhh, baby. It’s okay. Just cry. We’re here," Willow murmured, rocking Dawn.

"I’ll call Spike," Tara whispered in her lover’s ear. Since Buffy’s death and the subsequent custody battles over Dawn, Spike carried a cell phone with him at all times.

Willow gave a nod and hugged Dawn closer while Tara made the call. Spike arrived ten minutes later. The look on his face said all that needed to be said as he took in the scene of his charge weeping in Willow’s arms.

"Oh, Nibblet…" he breathed as he went to her.

She released Willow and threw herself into the vampire’s embrace. At Spike’s askance glance, Willow explained.

"She wanted us to use her blood to bring Buffy back."

The vampire’s eyes clouded and he pushed Dawn far enough away to look in her eyes.

"Is that true?"

Dawn nodded. "The monks made me out of Buffy. Why can’t they make Buffy out of me?"

"It doesn’t work that way, Nibblet and you know it. Now I’ll have no more talk of this to Willow or anyone else for that matter. Big Sis is gone and as much as it’s left a gaping wound in my heart and soul, and in everybody else who loved her, no amount of wishing or mojo is going to bring her back. Not in any form you’d want or recognize at the very least," Spike scolded sternly, giving Dawn a little shake.

Dawn slapped Spike’s hands away angrily. "You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my father."

"I’m the closest thing you’ve got to one and I’ll be whatever I need to be in order to protect you. Including disciplinarian," he warned, hurt and angered at her accusing tone.

"Are you threatening me?" she demanded insolently.

"I’m making you a promise. You do anything that puts you in danger or conjure up a brainless revenant that looks like your sister, I will personally paddle your bare bum in front of an audience," Spike seethed.

"You wouldn’t dare."

"I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat," he snapped, then softened a bit. "Do you have any idea what it would do to me if you were to mojo Buffy back from the dead and it went wrong? What it would do to the rest of us? We’d have to kill her. We’d have to kill the thing that looked like her. It’d destroy us all over again. It’d destroy me," he tried to explain.

"I don’t care! You don’t have feelings! You’re a soulless, evil demon who never loved her!" Dawn screamed.

"Dawn, no…" Willow said, seeing the devastated look pass over Spike’s face.

"No! Don’t touch me! I hate you! I hate all of you!"

With that she ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Willow grabbed for her coat.

"I’ll go after her."

"No," Spike managed, his shoulders slumped, his head hung. "Let her go. She needs to run this off and cry it out. I’ll give her a few then follow. She’ll probably run home after a bit anyway, once she calms down."

"Or to the graveyard," Tara offered.

"She’d be safe there. None of my kind would dare to touch her. They know I’d kill anyone who hurt her or sullied Buffy’s grave."

Willow put a hand on Spike’s shoulder. "You know she didn’t mean it. What she said."

The vampire looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and heartbroken. "I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier."

"I’ll call Giles and Xander; let them know what’s going on in case she runs to either of them."

Spike gave a ragged nod then wiped his face. "Right then. She’s got a bit of head start, but I’ll catch up."

"She wants you to chase her?" Willow asked.

"Course she does. Wants me to go running after her all pissed off and Big Bad, threatenin’ her with bodily harm. Then she can have a knock down, drag out, screaming fight with me that’ll end with her crying herself silly and me on the couch with a bleedin’ migraine," Spike spat bitterly. "Teenagers. Bloody hormone bombs." He sighed and straightened his shoulders. "Right then. Once more unto the brink."

He gave them each a nod then walked out, bent on finding Dawn.
 
 

Dawn didn’t run home. Instead she ran to the Magic Shop, knowing it would be empty. Since the night she and Spike had broken into the store, she had learned where Giles kept his spare key and she was able to enter without having to pick the lock. She wasn’t really sure what she was looking for but she figured she’d know when she found it. Lighting only two candles so as not to attract attention, she poured over the spell books. She knew she wasn’t looking for a resurrection spell, but she had an idea of the kind of spell she wanted. She just hoped she would find it quickly.

"If only I could remember what the monks did before they made me human. I’m sure I was there, just not… conscious…"

An idea formed in her head and she grabbed for a spellbook she had already discarded, looking for a memory spell that shehad seen in passing. When she found it, she quickly looked up the ingredients and gathered them, shoving everything into her book bag. She’d have to wait until she knew she was alone before casting it, which probably meant skipping school. It’d be tricky, but she could do it, and no one would be the wiser as long as she was there when Giles came to pick her up.

Leaving the Magic Shop, she locked it up tight and put the key back in its hiding place. Hopefully no one would even notice that anyone had been there. Then she ran until she got to one of the streets that led home and walked slowly along it. She knew Spike would be out looking for her and she wanted to be where he could find her. She needed to make up with him and smooth the waters. If she was going to pull this off, she would need his benign cooperation and she wouldn’t get that from him if they were fighting. The key to the success of her mission was to placate him enough so that he did not suspect what she was doing. He’d be galled to know she’d learned that particular tactic from him, but it would suit her purpose.

Sure enough, she’d been walking barely five minutes when the DeSoto pulled up alongside her and stopped. She raised her eyes to meet his, flinching inwardly at his cold gaze. She’d hurt him; she knew it, with her hateful words. He hadn’t deserved them. She knew he’d loved her sister. It hadn’t been right to attack him the way that she did; she’d just been so angry…

He didn’t say a word, but his look spoke volumes. Spike could convey a whole host of messages without uttering a single syllable, and she heard him loud and clear. Lowering her gaze, she walked around the front of the car and got in the passenger side. He waited until she was buckled in before putting the car into gear and driving them home.

The trip was completed in silence, and in silence they entered the house. She went upstairs to drop her book bag in her bedroom, then returned to the lower level where she found Spike boiling water in the kitchen with Annie under the table looking hopeful. Two mugs sat on the counter along with the cocoa mix, and she had to suppress a smile. Spike always drank cocoa when he was upset and needed comforting. He had a particular weakness for the Marshmallow Lovers brand; that and whipped cream. They’d gone through cases of the stuff during the first month after Buffy’s death. She sat down at the table and waited, and he kept his back to her until the kettle boiled. Then he brought it around to the counter and filled the two mugs, giving each a quick stir with a spoon. Coming to sit beside her, he placed one mug in front of her and wrapped his hands around the other, staring down at the little white sugar puffs floating on the surface.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice sounding too loud in the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah," he answered.

"I just really miss her, y’know?"

"I know."

"I know you loved her. I didn’t mean what I said."

"You’re not the first person to think that," Spike admitted with a shrug.

"But I know it’s not true."

There was a moment of silence as they drank their hot chocolate, then Spike spoke softly.

"Do ya think I wouldn’t give anything ta have her back?" he asked. "I loved her. One more woman in the list of those I’ve loved who couldn’t or wouldn’t love me back. I’m a glutton for punishment, always reaching for the unattainable goal. But I wouldn’t care if she never loved me. Any relationship we could have had would have been disastrous. I mean, think of it. A vampire and a Slayer?"

"She and Angel did it," Dawn pointed out.

"Angel’s different. Angel’s got a soul."

"You’ve got a Chip."

He laughed bitterly. "As Buffy would say that just makes me a serial killer just waiting to get out of prison."

"Angel without a soul did horrible things. Even without a soul, you’ve never done the stuff that he did."

"Oh I’ve done some pretty terrible things in my time, pet."

"Like torturing your victims with railroad spikes?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I did that once. I was newly Turned and I had some… scores to settle."

"So you did it for revenge."

Spike nodded. "Yeah. After that, I was never much for mind games. I’m a straightforward kinda guy. If I’m gonna kill you, I kill you. I don’t play with you or send you soddin’ presents. I get it over with right quick. I may be brutal. I might like violence. But I’ve no stomach for torture. It’s a bloody waste of time if you ask me."

Dawn took a sip of her cocoa.

"I remember when you came to help Buffy defeat Angel and she invited you in. You sat in the living room with Mom and I, and you were a perfect gentleman. And afterwards, when you could have come in at any time and killed us all in our beds, you never did," she said thoughtfully.

"Had no quarrel with you or your mum. ‘Sides, I liked the both of you. You had stones. First time we ever met, your mum whacked me over the head with an axe."

Dawn giggled. "I remember. That was at Parent-Teacher night."

Spike knocked back the last of his cocoa and swallowed. "My first failed attempt to kill the Slayer." His voice grew wistful and his eyes looked far away. "I remember the first time ever saw Buffy. She was dancing at the Bronze. Cor, she was beautiful. Most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I wanted her."

"You wanted to kill her."

"Yeah. Wanted to fight her, feel her struggling beneath me. Taste her blood…" He stopped himself because he was getting worked up. He always got worked up whenever he remembered their Dance. The memory of her was fresh, vivid; the scent of her, the feel of her blows, the sound of her ragged breathing…

"But even when you had the chance to kill her, you didn’t."

"More like couldn’t. Dru knew. She knew before I did that I’d fallen for the Slayer. She tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen. At the same time, I couldn’t stay away, kept comin’ back here to SunnyHell. Bloody moth to a flame," he answered, playing with the empty mug.

"And then you got Chipped and started helping her."

Spike nodded. "Didn’t plan it that way."

"I know. When did you know? That you loved her, I mean."

"I’d started to suspect even before Soldier Boy left. Back then I thought I was just obsessed. Then Captain Cardboard just up and left her, after cheating on her with some two-bit vampire whores. I mean, how could he leave her like that? He had her, y’know? He had everything I could never have and he soddin’ up and left! What a stupid git!"

Dawn laughed. "I never liked him much either."

He gave her a sly smile. "Yeah, well, I always hated him. Woulda made him into dinner if I hadn’t had this bleedin’ Chip in my head. Coulda done it too. In that warehouse with the vampire trollops. They woulda thought he’d gotten killed by one of ‘em and no one woulda been the wiser. God I wanted to snap his neck. Especially after he left and I saw how much it hurt her. I really wanted to kill him then. If I’da had any good contacts in Belize, I woulda arranged for him to have a little ‘accident’ if you know what I mean."

He paused to let her react to that, and she nodded.

"So, here I was, a vampire with the hots for the Slayer. When did I know it was something more than obsession, sexual attraction, a bloody Death Wish? When her pain started becoming my pain. When I wanted to be the one to comfort her and make her happy again. When her safety began to outrank my own. When a simple gesture of approval from her made my soulless heart take flight. When my dreams of her turned to tenderness. When I started caring what she thought of me. Then I knew, and by then I was too late to stop it. I’d already fallen and fallen hard. All that was left was to pick up the pieces." He gave her a broken look, his eyes brimmed with tears. "I just didn’t know how many pieces there’d be."

He dropped his eyes and sighed. Dawn reached over and took his hand, squeezing.

"Now I’m all in pieces, so many I dunno if I’ll ever find them all, and I know there’s always gonna be this big, gaping hole inside of me where she used to be, and that’ll never be filled."

Two tears snaked their way out from behind his closed eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

"I haven’t seen you cry since the funeral," she whispered.

Spike sniffed and wiped his eyes roughly. "Yeah, well, I don’t like ya to see me crying."

"Why?"

"Coz it makes me look like a weak nancy boy, all weepy like the Poof."

"Tears mean you’re strong enough to show your feelings," Dawn corrected. "Seeing you cry makes me feel better, because I still cry sometimes and knowing you still cry makes me feel less alone."

"You still cry, pet?"

She nodded. "Sometimes. When you’re out on patrol or downstairs and I’m in my room alone. Sometimes I cry."

"I go to her grave to cry. Just sit out there under that tree and bawl like a baby. Praying to whatever god will listen just to make this pain go away." He stopped, his breath catching on a sob. "God I miss her so much."

Dawn wrapped her arms around him as he lowered his head to the table, his shoulders trembling. "I miss her too."

"I loved her so much. I need her so much. I’d give anything to have her back again."

"Me too."

Spike lifted up and faced her, his hand stroking her hair. "But we can’t coz there’s no safe way. We just gotta be strong and live without her and take care of each other."

Dawn took his hand and pressed her cheek into his palm. "You and me against the world."

Spike laughed through his tears. "I love you, Lil’ Bit. And I’m gonna take care of you until the end of the world."

She smiled. "I love you too, Spike."

"Right then. Finish your cocoa, then upstairs with you. It’s past your bedtime."

She did as he asked and drained her mug, then she stood, wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

‘I’ll bring her back for us, Spike. I promise,’ she thought to herself.

"Goodnight, Spike."

He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, luv."

"Annie," she called as she walked out of the kitchen, and the little dog scurried out after her.

Spike stayed sitting at the table for a few moments longer before gathering up the two dirty mugs and washing them in the sink.
 
 

"Spirits of earth and air. Help me part the veil of time. Help me see what has gone before," Dawn chanted, burning the spell components in a sacred bowl. "Lift the mist of memory so that I may see clearly."

She was in Spike’s old crypt, having skipped school in order to cast her spell. The crypt was the safest place she knew of where it was doubtful that anyone would come looking for her, least ofall in broad daylight. Carefully, she had charted the Sacred Circle an d weaved the Magick, and as the components burned and the words were spoken, a weariness settled upon her and she closed her eyes. She breathed and felt her spirit fly with her breath, rising above her cross-legged figure on the stone floor, up into the Ether.

‘Show me what I want to see.’

And she was there in a monastery watching three monks chanting in a circle. There was great danger and they had to hurry, but they were focused on their task. In the center of their circle was a glowing sphere that pulsed with power, and as she watched the monks began to give the sphere form.

The spell had been a year in the planning. Once the decision to send The Key to the Slayer had been made, careful preparations were put into motion. Details and items from the Slayer’s life had been collected and weaved into the fabric of the spell. Dawn saw it all from her vantage point, meticulously memorizing every detail: the words, the incense that burned, the items in the Circle. Made from the Slayer’s blood- gathered from bloodstained clothing stolen from the house- and drawn from her DNA, the monks had forged a sister. They used the power of the Key to give the body life, constructing the mortal coil around the Key, and calling forth a Soul from the Ether to inhabit it.

After the form was created and the Soul Called, the second step of the spell was to send the form to the Slayer and rebuild the fabric of memory to include the new sister. The monks were deeply embroiled in this task when the Beast interrupted them. They would have liked to have been more thorough, made their spell more foolproof, but they ran out of time. In one last desperate burst, they sent their creation out into the hands of the Slayer, and succumbed to the wrath of Glory.

Coming back to present day, Dawn opened her eyes gifted not only with the knowledge she sought, but with a new awareness of herself. She was so much more than anyone knew or suspected. She was The Key, and within her teenage body pulsed a magic source of infinite breadth and depth. It was a power source the likes of which Willow and Tara had never dreamed of, with knowledge of millennia of Magick, and she could draw upon it to recreate the monks’ spell.

Her job would be easier than theirs because she already knew the form she wanted to create. The trickiest part of the spell would be Calling Buffy’s Soul back from the Beyond to inhabit the body. But she had time to plan and carefully cast the spells. No Glory loomed wrathful and hideous on the horizon, no Knights were laying siege to the doors. She could take care and do it right. She could bring her sister back, not back from the dead, but reborn from Dawn’s own blood.

It took her weeks to prepare, weeks of clandestine research, gathering of components, and careful planning. There were days when she was certain she was going to be found out, only to talk her way out of the situation with a gift for obfuscation that surprised even herself. As the days passed and the time grew closer, she was amazed at how easily she could manipulate them, even Spike. They had no idea, or if they did know she was up to something, she was sure that they had no idea of the magnitude of her plans. She misbehaved just enough to throw them off the scent, using what she had learned from her vampire protector to keep them from discovering her secrets.

Finally, after nearly a month of preparation, she had gathered all of the necessary components and was ready to cast her spells. She chose a night when Xander and Anya were to be her babysitters while Spike went on patrol. It was too dangerous to spellcast when Willow and Tara were there because they were sure to feel the Magick. If they discovered her too soon, all of her careful plans would be ruined. Neither Xander nor Anya had any Talent, and if she begged off to do homework in her room, they would not think twice- and they would probably have sex on the couch like they usually did when she went upstairs. That was fine with her because it meant that they would be distracted.

She had also engineered it so Spike would be gone most of the night, Slaying. She’d hated to hurt him, even if he was unaware that she was the cause of his pain, but she had needed him out of the house. Over the past two days, she had carefully cultivated Buffy’s memory with Spike. She had left articles of Buffy’s clothing where she knew he would find them. She used Buffy’s soap, shampoo and perfume to invoke the memory of Buffy’s scent. She played Buffy’s favorite music and used her favorite phrases in off-handed, seemingly innocent ways. By the time 48 hours had passed, Dawn knew Spike was nearly out of his mind with missing Buffy. She knew he tried to hide his black moods from her, thought he had hidden his vicious Slays from her eyes and ears, but she knew about them. She knew how he killed when he got a certain look in his eyes, and he had left the house with Death on his face and woe befall any demon who crossed his path tonight. He would not be back until well after midnight, which was just what she needed. She kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful just before he went out. He had smiled softly and pet her hair, then slipped out the door. He had no idea what she was up to, and she hoped that she would have a surprise waiting for him that would make all of the pain he had been going through the last three months go away.

She dawdled with Xander and Anya for an hour or so, then begged off to do her homework upstairs. She waited until she heard the tell-tale sound of pleasures being shared before beginning her spells. She drew the circle and lit the candles, chanting softly. In the center of the circle was a picture of her sister, surrounded by things that had once belonged to her: intimate, personal things. Strands of Buffy’s hair taken from her hairbrush were entwined with some of Dawn’s own hair and placed directly on the picture of Buffy. Dawn spit upon them and dropped five drops of blood from her finger on top. The components assembled, she sat back and began to recite the incantations, reaching into herself to access the power and knowledge of The Key.

Time crawled by as she weaved her spell, drawing on her power source to build her form. It was slow going and tiresome, but eventually a shape began to mold from the items within the Circle. Guided by the memory and the DNA imprints, Dawn rebuilt her sister’s body cell by cell, part by part until the complete form of Buffy Summers lay waiting for her Soul. It lay motionless in the center of the Circle, naked and exact in every detail, down to the bite scars on her neck.

The first half of her task was complete, and Dawn nearly sobbed with happiness and triumph at the sight of it. It had taken longer than she had thought it would, and more energy, but there was still much left to do. The clock read well after midnight and she knew Spike would be home soon. She had to hurry and cast the Calling spell to bring Buffy’s Soul back from the Beyond before the vampire returned. The spell was a variant of the one the Gypsies had used to curse Angel with his soul, only this spell was not a curse in any sense of the word. It was a restorative spell once used by mystic healers centuries ago, and the knowledge of it had been supplied to her by The Key. Reaching for the Thessulan Orb she had taken from the Magic Shop, she began the second spell.

This one was easier and did not tax her energy as much. That was good because she was fast becoming exhausted. The words fell off her lips as she burned the components and waved her hand over the sacred bowl. The Power built and a gust of wind blew in from the window that suddenly opened itself of its own accord. The Thessulan Orb glowed and pulsed with light, increasing in brightness until it was almost blinding, and Dawn’s voice grew louder and louder until she was shouting, trying to drown out the wind. Then, just as the Power reached its apex, the Orb shattered and the body in the center of the Circle jerked and drew breath, the eyes flying open in sudden shock.

The release caused a backlash of Power that slammed Dawn down, knocking the breath out of her. She gave a startled cry as her back hit the floor, just as Buffy Summers’ body sat up and screamed.
 
 

Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. Spike could Feel it, and it made his feet run faster as he hurried back home. When he neared the house, he could hear Dawn’s voice chanting through her open bedroom window and he saw an unearthly glow emanating from something in the room. Cursing in every language he knew, he burst through the door, ignoring the two people in the living room who were hastily scrambling for clothes as he leaped up the stairs. He was halfway up when he heard the sound of breaking glass, then something hitting the floor and then a scream, a blood-curdling, heart-wrenching scream. He froze on the stairs for a moment before uttering his own cry and charging for Dawn’s bedroom.

With a savage kick, he forced open the locked door, nearly ripping it off its hinges, and stopped dead in the doorway. Dawn lay sprawled on the floor, feebly trying to get up. Around her were the remnants of multiple spell components and what was left of a Sacred Circle. But it was what was in said Circle that made his unbeating heart turn cold. There, naked and shivering in what was most likely shock, was Buffy Summers.

Dawn made a choked noise and he snapped out of his paralysis long enough to rush to her side. He grabbed her, shaking her roughly, not wanting to take his eyes off the naked woman in the room.

"Dawn, what have you done?" he demanded.

Dawn smiled, her eyes glazed and her skin sweaty with exertion. "I made her out of me."

"Oh my God," Xander gasped, and Spike looked up to see him and Anya in the doorway.

"Buffy?"

"Oh dear God," Anya breathed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Dawn gave a triumphant laugh then passed out.

They stilled, breathing heavily, as Buffy looked at them, her eyes wide and confused, and waited as Buffy examined her hands. Not knowing exactly what they were dealing with yet, Spike deliberately placed Dawn’s unconscious body behind him so that he could protect her if needed, but when Buffy looked up again, there was a hint of recognition in her eyes.

"Buffy?" Xander tried again, and she turned her head in his direction.

"Xander?"

The single word caused both Xander and Spike to burst into tears.

"What? What happened? Where am I?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," Xander babbled.

"I’ll call Giles," Anya offered and ran for the phone.

Xander was the first to touch her and that galled Spike. The whelp was the only one with the presence of mind to grab a robe and cover Buffy’s naked, shivering body, when he- the Big Bad himself, was too busy not believing what he was seeing to do a damn thing except cry. Then she looked at him.

"Spike?"

His heart lodged in his throat and he swallowed hard. "Yes, luv?" he gasped hoarsely.

She stared at him for several moments, long enough for him to get very very nervous, until her expression changed from one of confusion to one of horrified understanding.

"I was dead wasn’t I?"

It wasn’t a question, and he knew she was looking to him because he was the one person in the room who would not lie to her or sugarcoat the truth. He managed to nod, and she looked away, her head shaking.

"How long?" she demanded.

"Three months."

"Three months? What happened?"

Spike cast a glance at Xander, silently pleading.

"You… you sacrificed yourself for Dawn," Xander replied. "The Portal started opening and the only way to close it was…"

"Was to give it the blood it wanted," Buffy finished. "I jumped into the portal. I remember. I remember now… oh God! Xander! Anya!?"

"Anya’s fine," Xander assured.

Buffy grabbed his arms. "And Willow and Tara and Giles?"

"They’re all fine. Even Tara. Willow was able to restore her. You were the only one who…"

Realizing that she was probably hurting Xander with her grip, she let him go.

"I see…"

There was more silence, then Buffy asked softly. "So, how did I get here?"

"Dawn," Spike replied. "Dawn made you out of her."
 
 

It was several hours before all would be discovered and divined. They had to do it without Dawn because the teen had drained herself into exhaustion and was in no condition to be interrogated. Once everyone had arrived and the initial shock of reunion had somewhat worn off, Willow and Tara were able to piece together what Dawn had done by examining the spellbooks and components. It was then that the sheer magnitude of Dawn’s undertaking, and her deception, was revealed. How she had managed to keep so much from so many for so long, defied their understanding, but earned her their grudging respect. As for Buffy, she had no memory of anything that occurred after she jumped into the portal, which coincided directly with what Angel had experienced after Willow had restored his soul.

They knew it would be days, perhaps even weeks, before everything was sorted out and understood, but for now they all basked in the knowledge that Buffy had been returned to them more or less whole. She was bewildered and somewhat disoriented, and she had a little trouble making her body do what she wanted, but for the most part she was handling her rebirth much better than anyone could expect. In fact, of all of them, Buffy seemed to be dealing with what happened the best; probably because she had no recollection of being dead, and aside from some minor motor control problems, she was physically unscathed. Whether or not she was mentally and emotionally unscathed had yet to be seen, but no one wanted to face that right now.

It was close to sunrise and everyone, including Buffy, was starting to feel the effects of lack of sleep, and the adrenaline rush was wearing off. Spike especially was barely hanging on, having been up since the early morning and out late Slaying. Willow and Tara were also reacting to the remnants of Dawn’s spells, and the power fluctuations were draining on the women. It was decided that a rest was in order, and sleeping arrangements were hastily defined. Anya and Xander would take Joyce’s bed while Giles took the couch, and Willow and Tara slept in sleeping bags on the floor.

Buffy followed Spike into the basement, and took in the simple but obvious living quarters. The vampire shrugged at her askance glance.

"I moved in the day you…" he explained. "To be closer to Dawn. So I could…"

"So you could protect her," Buffy finished.

Spike nodded. "I’ll uhhh… I’ll move my stuff back to my crypt just as soon as the sun sets…"

"Why?"

He blinked at her in confusion. Not daring to hope that she would let him stay.

"Because now that you’re back…"

She stopped him by raising her hand and he shut up immediately, mesmerized by the mere sight of her. He had yet to touch her, and frankly he was nearly out of his mind with wanting to touch her, but at the same time terrified to touch her because he feared that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

"Do you know what the first thing I really saw when I woke up tonight was?" she asked him.

He shook his head.

"It was you guarding my sister." She came closer, her eyes burning into him with their intensity. "For three months you have steadfastly kept your promise to me. You have kept Dawn safe and looked after her as if she were your own flesh and blood. That says more to me than any words ever could. I want you to stay, Spike, at least until we get everything all sorted out. After that, if you want to move out, that’s up to you."

He felt like screaming for joy, but he held himself in check- so tightly that he barely managed a nod. Her lips pursed and it seemed that she might say more, but then she gave a quick nod and left him in the basement. When the door closed behind her, he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Wasn’t sure if he could live with the unanswered questions that hung between them, then he thought himself a stupid idiot for thinking dour thoughts when Buffy was back in his life. Questions would be asked and answered, later. For now it was time to sleep and dream of a brighter future.
 
 

In the end, Buffy hadn’t wanted to sleep alone. She ended up curled between Willow and Tara on the living room floor, wrapped in blankets and sleeping bags. She slept a thankfully dreamless sleep until noise from the kitchen woke her. Slipping out from between the two lovers, she shuffled into the kitchen to investigate. She found a disheveled Spike feeding a strange dog. He started when she came in, and the look that flashed across his face before he could stop it was heartbreaking.

"Did I wake you?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head. "Not really. I was waking up anyway."

He nodded and looked away, running a hand through his tousled hair. She noticed that it was longer and showed some serious roots, as if he hadn’t been bothering to look after his appearance. After all that had happened, she wasn’t terribly surprised to discover that. She moved closer and leaned against the counter.

"Where’d she come from?" she asked, pointing to the dog.

"The Pound. Nibblet wanted a dog."

She nodded. "Mom never let us have one. She wasn’t too keen on pets."

"That’s what Lil’ Bit said."

Buffy gave the dog a good look. "She’s kinda cute though."

"Yeah, she’s all right. Not much in the brains department, although sometimes I think she’s just faking it for our benefit."

She laughed. "Dogs can be like that. What’s her name?"

"Annie."

"Ann’s my middle name," she commented.

"I know," came the soft reply.

Silence fell between them and Buffy looked around. The clock on the microwave said 1:22, but she couldn’t see outside to confirm it was early afternoon because of the heavy curtains that were drawn across the windows. The fact that they were closed pretty much told her what she needed to know anyway. She turned her gaze to Spike, who now had his back to her as he put a kettle on the stove and fussed with a can of coffee. His shoulders were extremely tense, his movements quick and abrupt. Steeling her resolve, she approached him carefully.

"Spike, I…"

He jerked at the sound of her voice and hopped away, his eyes wide. She gave him a scrutinizing look and moved closer, only to have him shift away again. It became obvious that he was keeping her out of his personal space, but she didn’t really understand why. She would have thought he’d be all over her by now.

"Spike…" she tried again.

"Not here. Not now. When we’re alone. Please," he begged in answer, and she looked at him as if seeing him for the fir st time.

He let her see the raw and aching need on his face for just a moment, and then she understood. He wasn’t touching her because he needed to keep tight controls on himself and contact with her would break that resolve. She was familiar enough with Angel to recognize it when she saw it, but she could only guess at Spike’s motivations. She nodded and accepted the fact that she would have to find out later.

"How’s Dawn?" she asked, changing the subject to something they could both agree on.

"Still dea… sleeping," he replied, catching himself before he could say ‘dead to the world.’ "But that’s to be expected. Will said something about her being completely drained. She’ll prolly sleep until sundown. Which is fine with me because it gives me time to figure out how I want to feel."

"I know what you mean," she admitted.

"I mean, I should be angry, y’know. I warned her to stay away from the mojo. I told her it was too dangerous. I even threatened to spank her bum if I caught her doing anything stupid."

"I’ll bet that went over well."

"Like a lead balloon. Thing is, I thought she was listening to me, y’know? And now I find out she’s been playing all of us like bloody violins. She had to have been planning this for weeks, sneaking around behind our backs, and we had no idea. I had no idea. I should feel manipulated, betrayed, used…" He paused to look at her, his eyes wide. "But then I look at you, and you’re the answer to all my prayers. And I can’t be mad. No matter how she did it, or the lies she told, the end result is that I get everything I wanted. How can I be mad at her for that?"

She was going to answer when he cut her off.

"How do you like your eggs?"

She was nonplussed at first, but then she realized what he was doing and gave him a wry smile. "William the Bloody, making breakfast. What will the demon underworld think of you now?"

He grabbed a pan and spatula, waving it threateningly. "You’d better not tell anyone or I’ll have to ki…"

The words caught in his throat, but she knew what he’d been about to say, and the pain on his face was too much for her to bear.

"I like omelets," she answered truthfully.

"I can do omelets."

"With cheese, and mushrooms and onions and…" She gave him a knowing smile. "Garlic."

He grinned at her, thankful for the jibe. "Sorry, pet. Don’t do garlic. Can’t stand the bloody stuff. If you want garlic, you’ll have to make your own bleedin’ omelet."

"I would, but I don’t think I could lift the pan right now," she admitted with a frown. "As it is, I’m barely standing."

He dropped the pan to the stove and whipped a chair out for her to sit.

"Then sit down for God’s sake. No need to put on an act for my sake," he said as she sat down. "Here, I’ll make you a cuppa."

As she sat, she watched him pour the boiling water from the stove into a French Press and strain the coffee grinds.

"How do you like your coffee?" he asked.

"Oh, umm… with cream and three sugars."

The cup was in front of her before she even finished the sentence.

"How are you feeling, by the way," he asked tenderly.

She took a sip of the coffee, surprised by how good it was. "Weak. Shaky. Confused as all Hell. I mean, technically I’ve come back from the dead before, but last time I was only dead for a few minutes, not… months."

"It’s understandable that you’d be… disoriented."

"Disoriented? Spike, I’m completely freaked. I’m still not sure this is all real or just a dream."

"If it’s a dream, please don’t wake me up. I really like it here," came the gentle reply.

She took another sip of her coffee and nodded. There were no real words to say to that, not if they were to keep the conversation light enough for them to handle. There would be other words, heavier words, later.

"So, all your pieces and parts in good working order? All your fingers and toes?" he questioned, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She shrugged. "Haven’t found anything that doesn’t work yet."

Her stomach took that moment to growl and they both laughed nervously. Spike turned to the refrigerator and began taking items out.

"One cheese, mushroom and onion omelet coming right up."

"I was joking about the garlic, you know."

"I know," he replied, fussing over the ingredients. "You want biscuits?"

"Sure."

He nodded that he had heard her and took more items from the fridge, whipping up a quick batter with flour, eggs and milk and putting the biscuits in the oven to bake.

Buffy sat, sipping her coffee and watching as Spike made breakfast in her kitchen. The entire scene was surreal and she watched with odd detachment as he deftly made his way about the room, chopping the onion and mushrooms, and sautéing the omelet ingredients in the pan. The dog barked to be let out and he opened the door without missing a beat, sidestepping just enough to stay out of the sunlight. Within a few minutes, she saw him skillfully flip the omelet over and catch it with the pan as if he’d been making omelets all his life and it was as natural to him as breathing. Then she remembered that vampires didn’t breathe.

"Mmmm, what’s that smell?" Willow’s sleepy voice asked as she shuffled in, rubbing her eyes. "Ooohhh, Spike’s making breakfast…"

"Hot water on the stove for your tea, luv, and biscuits in the oven," Spike called over his shoulder. "Want eggs?"

"Umm, yeah, thanks. The usual," Willow said, perking up as she sat next to Buffy. Spike made an acknowledging noise that he had heard her breakfast request but otherwise did not say anything more. "Good morning Buffy. Or should I say good afternoon?"

"Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me," she replied, drinking more of her coffee. "I take it Spike does the breakfast thing often?"

Willow shrugged. "Often enough. He makes great biscuits."

"And speaking of biscuits…" Spike interrupted, leaning around Buffy to place a plate with her omelet and two biscuits on it in front of her. "Breakfast is served. Eat up."

He refilled her coffee and brought ketchup, milk and sugar to the table.

"Who is he and what has he done with Spike?" Buffy asked in a mock whisper.

Willow giggled and shrugged again. "Dunno. He’s been like this since…"

"I can hear you, you know," Spike announced, scrambling eggs for Willow.

Buffy took a bite of her omelet and made appreciative noises. "God, this is good. Forget what I said about wondering what you’ve done with Spike. I’m keeping you."

"Glad to hear it. Did I mention that I spiced the eggs with strychnine?"

Buffy laughed. "Yeah, right. Watch it, Bleach Boy or I won’t dye your roots for you."

Spike spun around, spatula still in hand and shock on his face. "You’d…" he began but stopped as Giles entered the kitchen.

"Oh good, you made coffee," the Watcher said, pouring himself a cup.

"Yeah, French Roast," Spike answered.

Giles sniffed the mug and sighed. "Wonderful. Thank you, Spike."

"Eggs?"

"No thank you, but I’ll have some biscuits and jam."

"Fresh ones in the oven. Help yourself," the vampire said, returning to Willow’s eggs.

"Is Tara up?" Willow asked as Giles sat down.

"She got up to go to the bathroom. We should be seeing her in a minute. And I think I heard Xander and Anya moving about upstairs."

"Just as long as moving about is all they are doing," Buffy muttered, earning her a chuckle from Willow.

Annie barked and Spike served Willow her eggs, let the dog in, took the fresh biscuits out of the oven and put them on the table with the jam all in one fluid, impressive maneuver. Then he made himself a cup of hot chocolate and sat down across from Buffy while Willow and Giles grabbed for biscuits and fought good-naturedly over the jam. A few minutes later, Tara, Anya and Xander joined them in the kitchen.

"We smelled biscuits," Anya admitted.

"Fresh batch on the table," Spike announced, sitting back comfortably to watch as his biscuits were hastily consumed. Buffy thought she could see the pride dancing in his eyes.

"How’s Dawn?" Willow asked.

"She’s still sleeping," Tara answered. "I looked in on her a few moments ago."

"Are we sure she’s all right?" Spike questioned.

"I think so. I mean, physically she appears fine and I don’t think we have any reason to believe she’s anything but exhausted. At least not yet," Tara replied.

"Do we have any idea how she was able to cast such a- a powerful and complex spell?" Giles asked.

Tara shrugged. "I think we forget too easily that Dawn wasn’t always human. She may be a fifteen-year-old girl, but The Key is still inside of her. Who knows what she is capable of or what The Key knows. And it doesn’t help that the spell the monks cast programs us to think of Dawn as something that needs to be protected. I guess we really can’t be all that terribly surprised that she was able to do what she did. I’ve always Felt the power in her."

"Which brings us back to a question we’ve never answered. Is Dawn dangerous?" Giles commented.

"About as dangerous as any powerful witch," Willow answered. "We probably should try to train her. I mean, that would be okay now, right? Now that Glory is dead Dawn’s safe."

"Wait a minute. Glory is dead?" Buffy interrupted.

Six sets of eyes turned to her then nervously looked away.

"Buffy… Ben didn’t make it," Giles admitted softly.

They saw her sigh and her shoulders slump.

"I see. So I did kill him then."

"No!" Giles blurted. "No, you didn’t ah… kill him. He died because…"

"I killed him," Spike lied, his jaw tight, ignoring the surprised yet grateful glance from Giles.

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "You killed him?"

"Yeah. Glory was trying ta come back and I saw him fightin’ with her so I went over and snapped his neck."

"With The Chip in your head?" Buffy commented.

Spike shrugged. "I was already in so much pain already, what was a little searing migraine on top of everything else? Look, Slayer, as long as Ben lived, so did Glory. You made me promise to protect Dawn. I saw an opportunity to get rid of the one thing that was the biggest threat to the Nibblet, so I took it."

His expression dared her to challenge him and for a moment it looked like she was going to, but then her eyes lowered and she nodded.

"You’re right. As long as Ben lived, Glory was a threat to Dawn. I just couldn’t bring myself to kill him. Thank you for having the strength to do what needed to be done," she said, shocking them all.

"Yeah, well. You threw yourself off a bloody tower to save us all so I guess we’re even," the vampire begrudgingly admitted.

Buffy and Spike locked eyes across the table, each silently acknowledging that there was a great deal more that needed to be said, until Anya broke the tense silence.

"Would somebody pass the biscuits and jam, please?"
 
 

The afternoon passed in an air of tension and unguarded joy. The seven of them spent the hours getting reacquainted and deciding what was going to be done. Legally, Buffy was still dead, and there was a great deal that had to be done in order to reintegrate her back into the land of the living. Details were ironed out and plans made, all while they waited for Dawn to awaken.

Over the course of the hours, Buffy grew stronger and steadier in her body, and a quick test of her super powers proved that she still had Slayer abilities; a fact that both pleased and distressed her. Giles told her about Hope, the Slayer who was Called when Buffy died, and the story of her attack on Spike was relayed. After hearing how the Slayer had broken into the house and hurt Dawn, Buffy was fairly certain that she would like this Slayer about as much as she had liked Faith. No one threatened her family or those she cared about, Spike included.

The concept of caring about Spike sat better with her than she thought it would, but she chalked it up to being dead for three months. Being dead changed a person, and she ought to know since she’d been dead twice already. Somehow she was having a hard time reconciling her memory of Spike as a cold-blooded killer with the man who had made breakfast for all of them this morning. But being dead made you look at the world a little differently, so she figured that she shouldn’t really be all that surprised.

He was still keeping his distance, she noticed, but he watched her. Sometimes their eyes would meet and volumes were spoken in the brief looks. He was waiting. Waiting for the others to leave so they could have their talk, the one she knew was coming, the one she knew would involve a great deal more than just talking. It hung in the air between them and she found herself hyperaware of him, missing him when he wasn’t in the room. At one point, she noticed that he was no longer around and she went in search of him. She found him sitting on the back porch, smoking and playing with the dog. She sat next to him, just outside of his personal space, and waited to see if he would say anything. He didn’t, merely kept tossing a rag bone for Annie to fetch. It seemed to be a familiar game between the two. Spike would throw the rag bone clear across the yard, and Annie would gleefully run to retrieve it and drop it back in his lap.

"Does she ever get tired of that?" Buffy asked after she’d watched the dog return for the umpteenth time.

"No," Spike replied, taking another drag on his cigarette. "She’s the Energizer Bunny Dog."

Buffy laughed softly and Spike laughed with her. "It’s our thing, y’know? I come out here to smoke ‘coz I don’t smoke in the house, and she thinks she needs to keep me company. Makes her feel useful. Right, ya mangy mutt?"

"She’s not a mangy mutt," Buffy corrected, petting the dog on the head.

"No, she’s just a flea-bitten, pain in the arse."

"But Dawn loves her."

"Dawn adores her. And honestly, she’s good company for the Nibblet. No one can get within ten yards of her without Annie sounding the alarm. Caught more than one would be suitor trying to climb in the upstairs window that way," he told her.

"Would be suitors? Dawnie?"

Spike shrugged. "She’s growin’ up, pet."

Buffy snorted angrily. "She’s fifteen."

"And you were dating Angel at sixteen," he argued. "She’s not a child anymore and the more we try to treat her like one, the more she’ll rebel against us. There comes a point where you have to just trust ‘em and let ‘em go."

"Oh what do you know about raising teenage girls?"

"A hell of a lot more than you think I do," he snapped back defensively. "I’ve done a damn good job with Dawn these past three months. Just ask anybody. I’ve done right by her, I have. I get her up in the morning, make her breakfast, see her off to school. I keep house, I cook dinner, I help her with her homework. This country’s education system rots, by the way, it’s amazing any of you ever learned how to read. I do all of this, and Slay, and fend off nosy wankers from Child Services lookin’ to prove that I’m an unfit guardian just because a young, single male takin’ care of a teenage girl doesn’t jive with their family values. They think I’m tryin’ ta rob the bloody cradle with her. It’s disgusting."

He stood up and began to pace nervously.

"Spike…" she tried but he talked right over her.

"And I gotta invite them into the house and listen to them prattle on while they go over everything with white gloves and poke their noses where they don’t bloody belong."

"Spike…"

"And they’re always askin’ Dawn these leadin’, sideways questions, tryin’ ta dig up dirt on us so’s they can take her away. And I wish I had this soddin’ Chip outta my head so I could just bloody KILL them! But no, I have to be nice and ‘would you like some tea’ and ‘oh yes, I help Dawn with her homework every night’ and ‘oh, no. No lady friends ever spend the night.’ Not that I’ve had any lady friends I could ask to spend the night for the last three months. And you’d think, after us answering the same damn questions for the hundredth time, they’d shut the fuck up and go the fuck away! Stupid, bloody bitches!"

Annie whined and ran under the porch, cowering, as Spike struggled for control, his hands clenching and unclenching. Buffy blinked up at him.

"Overreact much?" she commented.

"You think I’m overreacting?" he sniped. "You try doing what I’ve been doing for the last three months, and putting up with the crap I’ve had to put up with. It got so bad, Giles went and spoke for me to the Court in order to get them to back off."

She gave him a wounded look and it made him feel like scum. Bowing his head, he turned away and lit another cigarette.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. If I could have been here, I would have. And for what it’s worth, you have done a wonderful job taking care of Dawn. I couldn’t have asked for a better, more devoted caretaker."

Spike shuffled his feet and blushed as much as a vampire could. "Yeah, well, Nibblet’s worth it."

"And you made me a promise."

Spike nodded. "So I did. Couldn’t have me breakin’ a promise, now could I? I’ve got my reputation to consider, y’know."

She smiled. "Oh yeah, right, as if you always uphold your end of a deal."

"Well, I do! Every deal I ever made with you, I made good on my end."

"And this was why I saw you back in Sunnydale after you promised to take Drucilla out of the country for good."

"And I did. I took her to Brazil where, as you bloody well know, she dumped me for a chaos demon. And I never promised not to come ba ck, I said that I bloody well hoped you’d never see us again," he insisted.

"A technicality."

"True, but one that works for me," he replied with a cocky smile.

Buffy’s answer was cut off by Xander opening the back door and looking out onto the porch.

"Oh there you guys are. We were wondering where’d you’d gone."

"Is everything okay? Is Dawn awake?" Buffy asked.

"Everything’s fine and no, Dawn’s still asleep. We were just going to order pizza for dinner, and we wanted to know if you had any requests."

Buffy winked at Spike. "Garlic. I want lots of garlic."

Xander smiled. "I’ll tell the chef to make sure he goes heavy on the garlic."

"Thanks, Xander," she said as he went back into the house. When the door closed, she turned to Spike. "We should go back in."

Spike nodded and finished his cigarette, crushing the butt under his heel, then followed her into the kitchen.
 
 

Ten o’clock came and went and still Dawn did not wake. Willow and Tara checked her carefully and determined that there was no need to panic just yet, and that Dawn would probably wake up in the morning. After it was fairly obvious that Dawn wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon, people began taking their leave.

Anya and Xander were the first to go, followed by Willow and Tara. Giles offered to stay the night again, but Buffy assured him that she and Spike would be fine. She was anxious to be alone with him, in fact, but she didn’t tell Giles that. She as fairly certain the Watcher knew, however, because he gave her a concerned/fatherly look before going out the door.

"Are you certain you know what you’re doing?" he had asked quietly.

"No, but it’s okay, Giles. Whatever happens, we’ll work it out."

He had leaned close. "We should tell Angel…"

She had put up a hand to stop him. "Not yet. Let me get things settled here first. I can’t face Angel until I get myself sorted out."

Giles had nodded in understanding, then smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "I know I should be terribly angry with Dawn for what she did, but I…"

"But you look at me and you just can’t be."

"Exactly."

"Spike said the same thing to me. I think I understand."

"Yes, well. I’ll be going. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

She had watched him as he walked to his car and waited until he had driven away before closing the door. Then she took a deep breath, steeled her resolve and went in search of Spike. He was in the kitchen, washing dishes. The scene was about as surreal as watching him cook breakfast earlier that day, but she stopped to watch him while she got her head in order.

She’d always thought him handsome, in a dangerous, bad-boy kind of way. He was so comfortable with himself and his body, yet he possessed an almost child-like insecurity that he tried to hide behind the Big Bad attitude. She’d seen it though, when he’d let her in, when he’d dropped the mask of indifference and confrontation long enough to show her his feelings. Usually she had taken those rare and tender moments, and stomped all over him. She felt bad about it now. No matter what happened between them, and she had a pretty good idea as to what was going to happen- at least physically- she knew it would be all right. Spike had depths she hadn’t even begun to explore, uncharted canyons that lay deep beneath the surface waiting for her to discover them. Part of her was shocked at her desire to discover them, at the almost magnetic attraction that she had been feelingtowards him since she had awakened to see him guarding Dawn. The memory was fresh and vivid in her mind, and defined the essence of her change of heart towards him.

He had placed her sister behind him, her prone body almost completely obscured by his crouching form. He’d been like a jungle cat protecting its cub, all strength and sinewy grace, ready to attack at any moment, ready to do whatever needed to be done, ready to protect Dawn with his life. His eyes had been intense, burning, yet full of such desperate heartbreak. It had touched the deepest part of her soul and settled there like a seed waiting to bloom. Then she realized that the seed had been planted long ago, when he had come to them for help and in turn had started helping them. When he had taken Dawn under his wing and guarded her family. When he had given her everything he had and taken the worst beating of his unlife at Glory’s hands. When he had stood beside her and fought against gods and demons and himself, and never faltered. When he had kept his promise to her even after her death.

Spike had proved himself time and time again. Yes, they fought. Yes, there was tension and anger and even hatred between them, but the truth was, when the chips were down and all the cards were on the table, there was no doubt as to whose side he was on. Now it was time to acknowledge the gifts he had given and the sacrifices he had made. In the light of all he had done, the small sacrifice of her pride seemed a small and paltry thing.

She approached him quietly, coming to stand directly beside him at the sink. She saw the jolt go through his body as he suppressed the impulse to move away, but did not acknowledge it. Instead she picked up a dishtowel and began drying the washed dishes. They worked in silence until the last fork was dried and put away. Then she draped the damp towel over the dish rack and placed her hand on his forearm. He shuddered at her touch and she felt a pang go through her.

"Spike."

She saw him swallow, saw him close his eyes as his hands curled into fists. He was trembling ever so slightly, and she could feel the tiny quivers of his muscles as he struggled for control.

Very deliberately, she ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder, rubbing along the top and the back of his neck, tsking at the tension she felt there.

"You’re all tense."

"Buffy, I…"

"Shhhhh," she soothed and coaxed him away from the sink. "Let’s go sit down."

Leading him to the living room, she watched him from the corner of her eye. He was wooden, following obediently as if he had no will of his own. In that moment, she knew what she was going to do. She would give herself to him, let him take whatever he needed from her and her body. She had hoped to lead up to it, to make it a slow seduction, but he was too far gone for that. From his earlier statements, she had deduced that he had been completely without for at least three months, and probably longer than that since she hadn’t seen any evidence of Harmony since the night Drucilla had returned. The lack of release compiled with her sudden return from the dead had to be driving him insane. She knew what it felt like to be so close to someone she loved and yet not be able to touch him. The fact that Spike hadn’t jumped all over her after Giles had left was a testament to his control and willpower. She hoped he would let her reward him for his efforts.

She guided him to the couch and they sat down. He placed himself away from her, his hands pressed between his knees, and she had to smile. His attempts to remain chaste were so endearing, and so unnecessary, but they served to make her decision easier. Seeing him there, his head bowed, his hands clasped nervously between his knees, touched all the tender places in her heart, and she reached out to place her hand on his leg.

"Spike."

He looked at her, his eyes wide and wary, with no small amount of fear in them, and his trembling became more pronounced. She saw him lick his lips.

"Buffy…"

She picked up one of his hands and brought it to her face, cupping her cheek into his palm.

"You have my permission to touch me," she encouraged.

The trembling graduated to shivering and she saw his nostrils flare.

"We should probably talk," he tried, and she was impressed by how steady his voice was.

"We should," she agreed. "But I don’t want to talk right now, Spike." She took his hand and placed it, palm down, firmly on her breast. "I want to dance."

His eyes cracked and she felt his control snap like a tightly coiled spring, and then he was on her, his lips and hands everywhere at once, his body crushing her to the cushions of the couch as he growled and whimpered.

The first time was quick, but she had expected that. He was too needy and desperate for anything else. Still, even in his frenzy, he didn’t hurt her, and even managed to please her. It helped that she was almost as desperate for him as he was for her, and their joining was the fulfillment of an aching need to reconnect. What she hadn’t expected were the tears that streamed down his face as he rode her, making her wonder if she was causing him more pain than pleasure, or the harsh, wracking sobs that came afterwards when he clutched her to his chest and wept.

The second time was much, much better. He carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed. Loving her slowly, he mapped her body with his hands and mouth, proving to her that he was the most skilled and considerate lover that she had ever had. He made her body sing with pleasure, and took her to new heights of ecstasy that made her burn for him as she had burned for no other. He quenched her need, giving her everything he had to offer, and pleasuring her completely before taking his own.

Afterwards, sated and blissfully worn out, they cuddled under the blankets, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his nose in her hair while his whole body vibrated with the purr vampires made when they were content.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered, licking her ear. "I love you so much."

She shifted and felt him stiffen, as if he was preparing for a blow, and the purr stopped.

"Spike, I…"

His fingers covered her lips. "Shhhh, pet. I know."

She took his hand and removed it from her mouth, looking up at him.

"No. Let me finish," she insisted.

Even in the darkness she could see the ‘oh please don’t kick me’ expression on his face, and it made her smile tenderly at him. She stroked his cheek reassuringly.

"I don’t know if I can love you, Spike. At least not the way you love me. Every time I’ve tried, it’s ended badly. But you know that. This… this sex thing, this lust thing, it’s easy for me. It’s the love thing that’s hard. But I’m willing to give it another try… with you. I can’t make any promises that it’ll be the way you want it to be, but I can promise to make an effort."

She paused as she felt him relax, settling back down and nuzzling her hair. She made a mental note that scent seemed to be a big trigger with him.

"I’ll take whatever you can give me, luv," he sighed.

"You shouldn’t have to settle. You deserve someone who can give you all of herself as much as you give all of yourself."

"You already give me everything I need, luv," he assured as the purr started up again.

"What? A good beating and a shag?" she countered, unable to keep all of her irritation out of her voice, but he seemed to know that her ire wasn’t really directed at him.

"All that and more, baby," he replied, lifting up to look at her, a cocky smile on his lips. "We’re a good match, you and me. Got enough stones for each other, not afraid to piss each other off. I’m strong enough to take all of you even on your worst days, and with no pesky curse loomin’ over my head. I got enough darkness inside of me to feed your Bad Boy craving, and enough light to make you not want to kill me."

"I wouldn’t say that," she teased.

He chuckled and kissed her, then his face grew serious. "You don’t have to hide with me, or lie about your ‘secret life.’ We’re equals and I know all about you, even the dark parts, so you won’t have to hold back when we fight or when we shag. I know your strengths and your weaknesses, and how to use both to their best benefit." His voice grew deep and husky. "And I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. More than Cecile, more than Dru. I adore you. I worship you. You’re my sun in the morning and my moon at night. You’re my beginning and my ending. You’re my everything. You’re my whole bloody universe."

"Oh Spike…" she breathed as tears welled in her eyes.

"And I can wait until your heart’s healed enough to open again. Until you know in your soul that I love you and I will never leave you, that you can trust me with anything and everything until the end of the world. In the meantime, I can love you enough for both of us."

"Spike…"

Her answer was cut off as he kissed her and covered her with his body. And soon words were unnecessary and moot as he proved to her that third times really were charms.
 
 

She woke to the sound of Spike’s purr rumbling under her ear, and found her head pressed to his chest with his arms around her.

"Mornin’, pet," came his tender voice as a hand stroked her hair.

"Mmmm, morning," she replied sleepily, snuggling close. "You’re still purring."

"Can’t help it, luv. I purr when I’m happy."

She smiled and stroked his chest. "And I gave you a happy."

"Biggest happy of my unlife."

She laughed softly and lifted up to kiss him. He was in demon-face, and his yellow eyes looked back at her until his features melted into his human ones. Their kiss started sweet but quickly turned passionate.

"Mmmmmm. Care to go another round before we have to face the world, eh pet?" he suggested with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

She punched him lightly. "Insatiable."

"Yeah. Just like you and you love it."

"True," she admitted as she climbed on top of him and kissed him deep.

When they woke up again, it was well after sunrise and the clock read 10:44. Thankfully, they had remembered to close the blinds and curtains before they went to sleep. Buffy stretched and yawned as she sat up.

"Yuck, I’ve got sweaters on my teeth," she complained.

"Want me to lick them off, pet?"

"Eww. No thanks. I have to go to the bathroom anyway."

"I don’t have that problem."

"Consider it a perk."

"I do."

He watched her from the bed, leaning on one elbow, his eyes dancing with love and mirth as she threw on a set of sweats. He pouted when she pulled on the sweatpants.

"It should be a crime to cover that gorgeous body," he commented.

"The world is not ready to see me naked."

"I should damn well hope so! I’m the only one who should be seeing you naked from now on, pet."

She gave him a sideways look. "You’re not gonna go all possessive and Cave-vamp on me now, are you?"

"Nah, I’ll let you out of the house occasionally. After dark. Dressed in baggy clothes that cover you up from your ankles to your chin," he quipped with a grin.

"I dunno if I like your attitude, Bleach Boy," she smirked.

"Ooo, catty. Well, baby, if you don’t like my attitude, why don’t you come over here and do something about it?" he cooed as he licked his lips and gave her a leer.

He saw her shudder and thought he had her, but then she put a hand on the doorknob.

"I am going to the bathroom," she announced.

"Spoilsport," he grumped and rolled to his back.

"I’ll be back before you can miss me," she assured, slipping out.

"Too late," he whispered but he didn’t think she heard him.

He was staring at the bedroom ceiling when a timid knock rapped on the closed door.

"Spike?" Dawn’s voice asked; it was all the warning he had before the bedroom door cracked open.

"Nibblet?" he said, surprised.

"Can I come in?" Dawn replied.

"Uhhh… give us a sec…" he answered, scrambling to cover himself with the blankets since his clothes were strewn downstairs on the living room floor. "Okay."

The door opened further and Dawn’s head appeared, followed by the rest of her.

"About time you woke up. You’ve been sleeping for over twenty-four hours. Had us all worried, you did," he told her.

Dawn didn’t answer right away, and she kept her eyes down as she stood by the doorway, looking lost.

"I’m sorry," she whispered faintly.

"Nibblet? What’s wrong?" he asked, concerned by her downtrodden expression.

"Do you hate me?"

"Hate you? God, no! I could never hate you, Lil’ Bit."

"But I lied to you and disobeyed…"

"Oh Little One," he breathed. He moved to go to her, then thought the better of it, opening his arms to her instead. "Come here."

With a sob, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms. He pulled her onto the bed with him, heedless of his naked chest, and tucked her head under his chin so he could rock her.

"I love you. You know that, right? I’ll always love you. You’re my Nibblet. Nothing you could ever do would ever make me stop loving you."

"I didn’t want to lie, but I knew if you knew what I was going to do, you’d try to stop me, and I just couldn’t let you. I had to do it. I had to."

"Shhh, I understand. I know why you did what you did even if I don’t agree with it."

Dawn pulled back to look at him. "But I did it, didn’t I? I brought her back."

The smile he gave her outshined the sun. "Yeah, Little One, you did. You surely did."

She beamed back at him, then frowned, dropping her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

"Are you naked under there?"

"Ummm…"

"Dawn," Buffy’s voice interrupted.

Dawn whirled in Spike’s arms and faced her sister.

"Buffy!"

In heartbeats, Buffy joined them, her arms around Dawn as the sisters cried tears of relief and joy.

"Oh God Buffy. We missed you, we missed you so much!" Dawn sobbed. "I had to bring you back! I just had to. You understand, don’t you?"

Buffy looked seriously at her. "I understand. But what you did, Dawn, was very dangerous. If your spell had gone wrong…"

"But it wouldn’t have! I knew what I was doing, I mean, The Key knew what it was doing and I used it. I can use it. It’s part of me."

"We kinda figured that out," Buffy admitted.

"Are you mad at me?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, I’m not mad, but I am a little freaked out," she said, sitting on the bed. Spike put his arm around her so Dawn was held between them both. "Actually, I’m a lot freaked out, but I’m getting better." She gave Spike a fond look and patted his hand. Spike smiled dreamily at her.

Dawn looked from Buffy to Spike then back to Buffy. "So, I guess you guys worked out your… umm… differences?"

Buffy blushed furiously, but Spike just grinned. "You could say that."

"That’s cool. I was kinda worried there for a minute when you weren’t in the basement."

"No need to worry about me, luv. Big Bad can take care of himself. You know that," Spike said softly.

"I know. I just… wasn’t sure how you’d react."

Spike pulled them both a little closer, tucking Buffy in against his side. "Oh, I think I handled it pretty well, don’t you, pet?" he replied, looking fondly at Buffy.

"Better than I would have," Buffy answered.

"No. You’re stronger than you think you are. You’re stronger than all of us. You just won’t admit it to yourself," he cajoled, then kissed her temple. "I love you, Buffy."

Buffy didn’t answer with words. Instead she gave a little sigh and entwined her fingers with his. Dawn looked at their joined hands and smiled.

"Does this mean you’re not gonna make him move out?"

Buffy laughed. "Umm, no. I think Spike will be staying."

Dawn grinned. "I’m glad. I mean, I really like having him around. He makes a mean breakfast."

"So I’ve learned."

"And he’s great at helping me with my schoolwork."

"Ahh, speaking of schoolwork," Spike interjected. "In light of your recent use of Big Mojo, Willow and Tara have decided to teach you witchcraft."

Dawn gave him a shocked look. "They have?"

"It was decided that it would be better if you had some formal training instead of your trying to learn things all by yourself," Buffy explained. "Giles offered to help too."

"Wow, awesome!"

"In fact, we should probably get dressed and call them. We promised to let them know when you were awake, and they’re probably sitting by the phone," Spike said.

"After breakfast?" the teen asked hopefully.

"After breakfast," Spike agreed.

"Biscuits?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Biscuits. Now out with you so I can get up."

"I’ll go let Annie out and feed her," Dawn offered, hopping off the bed.

Buffy gave him a quick kiss. "And I’ll bring you some clothes."

"Clean ones are in the basement," he told her, stealing another kiss. "Gonna take a shower."

"Okay, I’ll bring them to the bathroom," she said, moving to get off the bed.

Spike stopped her and looked seriously at her. "Have you given any thought as to what you’re going to do?"

"About what?"

"About life? About Slaying?"

"Right now I’m going to take some time getting used to being alive again. After that, I might go back to school, or get a job. As for Slaying… I’m sure I’ll take it up again eventually, Sworn Duty and Sacred Calling and all, but I think I’ll let Hope take care of it for now. I’ve got better things to do."

She smiled and kissed him, then slipped out of his grasp, leaving the bedroom to go get him his clothes. He stayed on the bed for a few moments, knowing that he was grinning like a fool, but not caring.

"That you do, luv. That you do."
 
 

FIN

 

 

 

 

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