Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or anything from the world of Buffy. They belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I am making no money from this story, it’s just for my and other fans enjoyment.

Summary: After a period of separation from Buffy and the Scoobies, Spike is suddenly thrust back into their lives after he goes through a startling transformation.

Rating: R (I don’t think it will reach NC-17, but you never know. Will change the rating if it happens.)

Authors Note: The story takes place after “Crush” and a little AU for “I Was Made To Love You” and everything following that episode. In the Magic Box they’re a tad bit harsher to Spike and he doesn’t go out and get the Bot made. The rest of the season is the basically the same just without Spike being there for all of it and Buffy didn’t have to jump on the tower so she never died in my story (didn’t want depressed Buffy). Spike remains alone and isolated the whole time from “I Was Made To Love You“ all the way up to “The Gift“. The story starts off a week or so after the fight with Glory.

Special Thanks: To Saka, Newydd, Wynn, and Dsdragon. Who without their help ther would never have been a strory, or at least it would have sucked eggs compared to how it's turned out now. Thank you all so much for your help.

Under Her Shade

By Blood luvin girl (aka Kimberley-Ann Thiem)

 

Chapter 1

 

Spike stumbled through the forest, quiet despite his current state of intoxication. He pressed forward, dimly aware of the fact he would never make it back to his crypt, not to mention Sunnydale, before the sun would start its journey and bathe a newly awakening day with its warm glow. At the moment, it did not seem to matter enough for him to seek shelter. So he just kept moving forward, pausing every so often to bring the bottle of liquor to his lips and drink.

Spike didn’t even know what he was drinking, but it was vile and strong. Incredibly strong. Just what he needed. He had stolen it from a bum who had fallen asleep in the graveyard, the bottle loosely clutched in his hand. Spike had taken it from the man, then nudged the dirt-encrusted creature awake, letting him know with a flash of his demon visage that falling asleep in a cemetery was a pretty big lapse in judgment, even for a drunk. Not that the blonde vamp was currently doing any better.

It was the quiet. He just couldn‘t take it anymore. Alone in his crypt with nothing but the TV to keep him company. Watching the people on the screen laughing and crying together only served to remind him of how completely alone he now was. Hell, even the ones trying to kill each other had it better than him. At least they weren’t alone.

He stopped walking. He was so tired. He hadn’t slept for days and for each of the last four nights he had wandered the streets and cemeteries, always making sure to be far away from them. From her. His days he spent drinking anything he could get a hold of. Anything to keep his mind in the haze he had retreated into over the last two months.

He winced suddenly, a dip in the uneven ground causing his foot to come down much more sharply than his broken leg could handle. His body was a mess. At first he had vented his rage at the world and at his mockery of a life on whatever he’d come across. Anything, that is, that his chip would allow. But after a week of mindless rage, of brutal bloody fights and slaughter, he’d retreated into his own world, coming out only for blood, cigarettes and alcohol.

That’s when it had started. The quiet. He shook his head, trying to dispel the memories, the emotions, that were swirling around deep inside him, trying to push their way past the drink and the pain. All his actions seemed to accomplish was to make him suddenly light headed and nauseous, the result of days of feeding on nothing but a staggering variety of alcohol. He leaned against a tree for support as he waited for the dizzy spell to pass. His leg was still pounding, the pain crashing in waves up his body.

He started chucking; laughing at himself, at his pain. It almost seemed appropriate, he was the only one who hadn’t laughed at his situation yet.

Look at him. The great William the Bloody, neutered by a piece of government technology, forced to feed on the pre-packaged blood of pigs and cows. Spending ever night killing his own kind in his desperate attempts for any type of release. Now if that weren’t bad enough, he was now in love with the one and only Buffy Summers. God! What a joke. The Slayer of Slayers madly in love with one. He stopped laughing as the pain from a broken rib became too much to bare. His nights of wandering had done more damage to his frame then his days of fury and uncontrolled violence. Though he was no longer looking for any, the fights would come and each one would leave him more weary and beaten than the last. But still he kept moving, kept drinking.

When he was alone on the streets in the dead of night and early morning, the quiet almost seemed, well, right. Late at night, after the sun had set and most people had returned home to their friends and loved ones, the paved roads and walkways weren’t meant to be filled with the sound of kind words and friendship. At most, he’d run into those hurrying to make it to their destinations or other drunks such as himself. Sometimes he would see them hanging on to one another giggling and laughing with each other. Not alone. Not like him. That’s why he was headed for the woods this night. No one in Sunnydale would go into the woods at night. Not even that idiot bum would be that foolish.

So here he was, deep in the woods, far from any reliable shelter from the burning rays of the sun. He was getting tired, his body finally giving in to its need for sleep, but he still felt that he had to keep moving. Not because he hoped to find some kind of dark place to hole up in for the day, more because stalking through the tall moonlit trees was suddenly all he had left. All he was in control of.

Sleep would bring him dreams, cruel dreams, filled with relived pain as well as pain created by his mind and heart, tormenting him even more than reality had managed to do. And stopping, stopping would lead to thinking. Thinking that was a hundred times worse than what would race through his mind as he moved. As long as he could keep going, he felt as though he could almost outrun it all: the pain, but most of all the quiet, the loneliness.

He brought the bottle once again to his lips, only to find it empty of its amber-coloured contents. Anger flared through him briefly and he felt the need to hurl the container against the nearest tree, but the feeling left almost as soon as it came, and he simply let the bottle slip to the ground as he continued on his way.

He was starting to feel the first signs of sobering up, and he wished desperately that he had brought more than that single stolen bottle with him. He cursed his vamp metabolism as his head started to tense with the beginnings of a hangover.

He looked up to find himself in a meadow of sorts. Short grass and flowers, their petals shut tight for the night, covered the clearing. A light dew gave a glittering, almost magical shine to the whole scene. At the centre of it all stood a tall, solitary tree. Its trunk was straight and wide, it’s branches thick and strong, reaching towards the stars. It’s leaves rustled gently in the early morning breeze. Without having to check, Spike knew his arms would not come anywhere close to wrapping around the tree if he where inclined to try. The tree looked different from all those in the surrounding forest. In fact it looked different from any tree he’d seen before. It looked a little like an oak, but its bark was so pale it was almost white, its leaves so dark they seemed almost blue.

The tree’s tall form seemed to beckon to him, and suddenly he felt as though his body could travel no farther. He dragged his feet as he made his way under the tree and fell in a crumpled heap with his back resting against the powder-coloured surface. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he pulled in a ragged breath as he felt the weight of recent events bearing down upon him. He didn’t have the strength to hold it in any longer. His shoulders shook with heavy sobs as he slid down sideways onto the ground, pulling his duster tightly around him As he did so, he hoped that the world would give him some measure of pity and that he would be asleep before the sun made its way beyond the ever-lightening horizon.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, resigning himself to whatever fate the world decided to hand him.

 

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Mother woke slowly, tendrils of consciousness creeping bit-by-bit through her being. She began to wonder what could have woken her after so many years of deep slumber. Then she felt it. Pain, soul-rending pain, unlike any she had felt before.

She called out to the creature, seeking it out. He, for she could tell it was a he, didn’t hear her. He was too wrapped up in himself to listen and she was far out of practice. So much time had gone by as she’d slept, and now as the moments passed, she could sense farther out more pain. Pain surrounded her. This was so unlike her memories of the time before she’d slept, but the others didn’t live so close to her then. She had only ever had contact with those few who had taken it upon themselves to seek her out. She did not have any day-to-day experience with the other higher creatures of the world.

She crept into the creature’s mind, and began to gently guide him in her direction. She knew he was a darkling, but his misery-- and some other emotion she had yet to place-- touched her deep within her ancient heart. She felt the need to care for this lost child, to mend him, to save him. He had almost reached her now and she could feel the damage to his body. Her mind and her spirit recoiled in shock and anger from what she encountered: not even darklings deserved this! Especially not one with such depth and hidden passion. Most that she had felt in the days before her sleep were cold and empty, but this one overflowed with emotion.

She waited as he entered the clearing, then reached into his mind once more, whispering of sleep and rest. She tried to calm herself, and waited to see if he would stay or continue on, away from where she would have the best chance of aiding him. She felt herself relax as he stopped and lowered himself to the ground with a pain filled-moan.

As the darkling began to weep, Mother had to stop herself from reaching out and holding him. It was doubtful he would understand either what she was or that she meant him no harm. So she waited for sleep to claim him, and as it did, she felt his plea to find sleep before dawn and suddenly she understood. He was a Life Drinker, a child of the night. The sun would burn and kill him! She reached for him then, pulling herself around him. She cradled him like a babe within her roots and branches as she emerged from within her corporeal form to gently stroke his face and back. As soon as she was sure the sun would not reach even an inch of his pale body, she began to gently probe his flesh and spirit. Careful not to push too far too fast , she looked for any thing she could do to comfort and heal her charge. Anything that would keep him from leaving her when he eventually woke.

 

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Slowly the dream started. Images flashed by: faces of those he wanted nothing more than to be with, but who looked at him with hatred and disgust. The girl at the bronze--the one Dru had offered to him, broken and bloodied, stood before him. Her eyes accusing, her life stolen. Dawn was suddenly there staring at him, pleading with him, asking: “How?” “How what?” He asked back. But before she could answer, he was in an alley, Dru standing in front of him. They were in the alley from that night, the night he died. She turned and pointed to her right and there further down the alley he can see the events of his death played out before him. The Dru of the past moved toward his human double, and though he couldn’t hear them, he knew by heart every word that they had spoken. When the scene before him reached it’s climax, the Dru standing beside him turned back to him and spoke.

“Daddy told me to get my own toy.” She said, her eyes dancing with insane laughter. “My darling Spike, what a good little toy you made.”

Then she grabbed him, shoving him against the wall, and suddenly they were in his crypt.

“But now you’re all broken and Princess has to find a new toy to play with.”

He looked down and he saw his wrists were slashed and that he was bleeding from a wound above his heart. He watched as the crimson fluid ran down his fingers, dripping to the floor, disappearing before it hit the ground. When he looked up again she was gone.

Across the room he saw a mirror, tall and grand, framed by carved wood images of dancing angels. He walked slowly toward it and looked in. Looking back was the image of him as a human: the same hair, the same glasses, the same clothes as his human self, but strangely he still wore his duster. His mirror image was bleeding from the same wounds as him, but the room in the mirror was covered in blood. The walls dripped with it, the floor was smeared with it. He reached out to touch the mirror, but the refection pulled away from him, shaking it’s head. The reflected image turned to look behind him and Spike followed his gaze, seeing a room filled with his victims, their bodies piled high. The crypt in the reflection suddenly grew bigger to accommodate the staggering amount of broken, rotting flesh. Some of the bodies, though rotted, were still recognizable. Others, long dead, were barely more than putrid skeletons, but every one still had its eyes, clear and alive. And every pair of eyes was staring at Spike. He wanted to scream, to run, to throw up, anything to stop those eyes from staring. To stop himself from staring back.

Gradually everything started to darken. The eyes faded away and he was floating in peaceful blackness. Off in the distance he heard singing--a wordless tune--and was soon sleeping a dreamless sleep.

 

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As the look of horror etched on her charge’s face began to melt into that of relaxed slumber, Mother allowed herself a moment of respite. She had seen his dream, had felt the pain that it caused him, and though she did not yet understand all of it, its meaning was quite clear. He was now suffering from his past actions. She doubted he even realised it was happening: that he was feeling things most of his kind were incapable of experiencing. He probably blocked as much of the dreams out as he could. His feelings of confusion and loss were almost substantial enough to touch.

 

As she reached through him, she began to comprehend what it was she had sensed earlier. He hadn’t fed for days, and when he had, it wasn’t humans he drank from. He had been feeding off the lower creatures, the same ones his true prey fed from. This confused her. She touched his mind, quietly asking him: “Why?” The answer she got puzzled her. “Chip.“ She prodded again and was told “In my head.” This also puzzled her.

She started to probe again, this time searching his body rather than his mind. There it was! She didn’t understand what it was, so she searched his memories as she gently probed the strange object. Words like “science,” “lab rat” and “electricity” swirled around in her mind. She was still confused, but she knew this much: humans had made it, they had pushed it inside him using a magic-that-is-not-magic called science. They had forced it on him, in him, and now it caused him pain if he tried to hurt them or even feed.

She was greatly angered. She’d learned from her limited contact with the outer world of all kinds of cruel tortures committed by both human and nonhuman alike, but this! On a human such a thing would be horrid, but to do so to a Life Drinker was unforgivable. The lower being’s blood may keep him alive, but he would slowly weaken, and as the years would pass, his condition would steadily get worse. The inability to feed as he should would slowly destroy him in both mind and body, but it would not kill him. The deterioration would be so slow that it would be almost unnoticeable. He probably didn’t even know that it was happening. He was lucky, though. His body had already started to suffer, yet the damage could be repaired. If the chip had affected his mind, she would not be able to help, but the effects had not yet progressed that far. And for the same reasons she could not help a damaged mind, she could not remove the chip. She did not understand enough about it, and the brain was too delicate to tamper with.

If she could not take the object out or stop it from functioning, then she would change him instead. Make him different enough to survive the humans’ cruelty. Maybe she would be able to fix some of his other problems as well. Besides, she was a creature of life, of light and growth. As long as he remained a creature of the night, a dead creature, there would be little she could do for him. He would die in her embrace and she swore she would save him. She had to be careful though. She could not allow him back out into the word to kill for pleasure again. Not only would it weigh on her conscience, but it appeared it would weigh on his as well. She had to balance his nature with her own and hope that the changes would not be too much for him.

 

Carefully she began to wrap herself more tightly around him, gently but firmly, settling down to examine his body completely. Not wanting to make a single mistake. Soon she was once again singing softly in his mind, sending him all the love and tenderness she could give.

 

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Chapter 2

 

Dawn stood staring out her bedroom window. Her arm and shoulder throbbed. She reached over with her other hand to lightly touch the sling. The pain she felt, in the end, was a very small price to pay. When Doc had approached her, she had managed to slip one wrist free from its binding. She’d stood trapped, and in a split-second decision she’d jumped from the tower. Doc had moved to stop her, and in his haste had sent himself off the edge of the tall platform. She, on the other hand, had been saved by the rope still bound to her other wrist. She laughed softly to herself. If Doc had thought about the situation for just a moment, he would have realized she wasn’t going to fall. Instead, he had rushed forward like a fledging vampire hungry for its first kill.

God, now she was even thinking like her sister! “If I don’t start getting out soon I’ll go nuts.”

She walked over to her bed to sit down stiffly: more sore muscles from when Glory had roughed her up. Lying down on her back, she stared at the ceiling, letting her mind wander. Strangely, she found her thoughts drifting to Spike. She hadn’t thought of him in weeks. After the big scene at his crypt with Buffy and then all the Glory stuff, she hadn’t given him a second thought. All of a sudden she felt very curious. Had he left town like Buffy had said she wanted? Was he still around? If he was, where had he been and what had he been doing? She decided to ask the others in the morning.

 

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When Dawn woke the next day she found her sister still asleep. She decided not to wake her. All the stress from the past months was still weighing heavily on the Slayer and she really needed the rest. Dawn left a note on the bathroom mirror, where Buffy was sure to find it, and proceeded out the door and to the Magic Box.

As she walked, she remembered the previous night’s stray thoughts of Spike. By the time she’d reached the Magic Box, they were once again nagging at the corners of her mind. She opened the door to find Giles sitting quietly at the back table enjoying a steaming cup of tea. Xander sat with him and they were both eating donuts from a box on the table. As usual, Anya was behind the counter taking care of one or another of the many tasks necessary for running the business. As Dawn settled herself down at the table, snatching up her own donut, she saw Willow and Tara emerge from the training room in back. She thought this was a good a time as any to bring the subject up.

“Have any of you seen Spike lately?” She asked the group.

 

Xander was the first to speak up. “Why do you care if any of us have seen the bloodsucker lately?” He stared at her, donut powder heavy on his lips.

“I don’t know really. It just kind of popped into my head last night, so I figured I’d ask.” She looked at him pointedly, rubbing at her lips trying to signal to him to wipe his mouth.

Giles looked at her, taking the time to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he spoke. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him since we chased him out of the shop.” The Watcher leaned back in his chair, pondering what might have happened to the vampire.

As Willow sat down at the table with Tara, she mumbled, “Neither have I. Maybe he finally got the hint and left town?” She then pulled a text out of her bag and started to flip through it.

Xander sighed. “No, we aren’t that lucky. He’s probably trying to think of some plan to kill us all without the chip getting in the way, since his whole “I love Buffy” scheme failed so miserably,” he said as he wiped at his mouth, finally understanding Dawn’s frantic signing.

Willow turned and looked at him. “Xander, if that was true, don’t you think he would have done something by now? He’s not exactly patience man.” She looked at Giles. “Maybe we should check it out? Make sure he’s still in town and if he’s being a well-behaved vamp.”

“We could go right now.” Dawn said. “Save my sister the trouble. I doubt she really wants to think about him any time soon, let alone see him.” She hoped they didn’t have any plans to harm Spike. She didn’t want him dusted if he didn’t deserve it. Buffy would almost definitely dust him if he even looked at her wrong, and at this point any look he gave her would be considered wrong.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Giles agreed. “No need to put any unnecessary stress on her right now. Well, Xander, feel like a trip to the cemetery?” The Watcher stood and headed back to the training room for weapons. Even though it was daytime and Spike had the chip, almost anything could go wrong on the Hellmouth.

“Sure, why not. It might even be fun: I can never get enough of tormenting Spike.” The younger man stood and brushed the powdered sugar off his shirt and pants. Giles had already emerged from the back room. He pulled a stake from his weapons bag and handed it to Xander.

Dawn stood as Xander took the stake from Giles. “Can I come too? It was my idea, and I think that should mean that I can go too.” If she went along there would be less of a chance they’d hurt Spike for no good reason. Besides, it would be fun to see him again. Even if he was a soulless vampire, he was still great to talk to.

Giles shook his head as he looked down at Dawn. “I really don’t think that would be very prudent. In any case, I don’t think Buffy would approve.” Dawn rolled her eyes.

“You know if you don’t bring me along now I’ll just figure out a way to see Spike later. By myself. Probably at night. In the dark.” Her voice became more child-like and sing song as she continued. “Who knows what could ..,”

“All right, all right, you can come along. But you must promise to listen to whatever Xander or I tell you. Agreed?” Giles sighed, relenting to his defeat.

A triumphant smile spread across Dawn’s face. She turned and started heading for the door, calling cheerfully behind her, “Are you coming?”

Xander and then Giles followed after her, and soon only the three women were left in the shop.

 

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When Buffy awoke, the morning sun was filtering through the drapes. Shadows from the trees outside danced across the surfaces of her room. She pulled off the covers and glanced at the clock. She groaned as she saw the time: ten twenty-two. Why hadn’t Dawn woken her up?

She got out of bed, stretching as she made her way to the bathroom. She noticed Dawn’s note on the mirror, and read it before she continued preparing for the day. She turned on the shower and started to undress. She had an odd feeling, like something was off. Her dreams had been strange, but she could remember no clear details save for the blurred image of a pair of familiar blue eyes. She shook it off. It wasn’t a Slayer dream, the feeling was different; the dream was not as clear. She decided it must just have been left-over tension from the wreck that was her life. She stepped into the shower, savouring the feel of the hot water as it began to relax her tense muscles and wash away the last remnants of the dream.

 

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Xander slowly pushed open the door to the crypt and immediately was assaulted by the stench of alcohol. The room was dark, but enough light filtered in through the windows for him to see comfortably.

“Hey, undead wonder! Spike! Hey! Anybody home?” He stepped inside, his foot knocking into an empty bottle, causing it to roll farther into the crypt. He looked around, his eyes taking in the state of Spike’s home. “Holy crap, Batman!”

“Xander, what are you waiting for? Let me by. I would rather not spend my entire day standing in Spike’s doorway.” Giles pushed passed the younger man and stopped, stunned at finding the same thing Xander had moments before.

The crypt was a mess: bottles covered every surface, articles of torn, blood-covered clothing were strewn haphazardly around the room. Spike’s TV lay on its back, a bloody hand print marring the reflective surface of its screen. In the back corner were the remains of a fire, the soot and ash combined with half-burned paper. A chair stood in the middle of the room, its surface spotted with dried blood.

“Hey, what are you guys staring at?” Dawn pushed her way inside, seeing for herself the battered remains of Spike’s home. “Oh my god! Spike! Spike!”

“Dawn, I think you should go back outside.” Xander’s voice sounded hollow, its quiet tone only serving to worry Dawn further.

“Xander, no! I have to find him.”

Her eyes were wild, all thoughts of Spike as a heartless killer, as a vampire flew from her mind. Suddenly, he was just a guy. A guy she knew and who was in some kind of trouble. How long had his place been like this? A few days? A week? Longer? Was he still there?

“I don’t see him! Giles where is he?”

“Calm down, Dawn. Do as Xander said and go outside. We’ll take care of this.” The Watcher’s voice was tense as he reached out, his hand grabbing her arm to stop her from going any farther.

“But Spike. He might be hurt! What happened to him?” She looked a Giles imploringly.

“I don’t know, but I promise you we will find out. Now please wait outside while we look around.” He continued staring into the room.

“But--”

“Dawn. Now!” he snapped, his eyes suddenly meeting hers.

Giles’s brusque tone pushed all remaining argument from Dawn’s mind. She stared at him for a moment longer, pain and worry evident on her face. Then she spun away and dashed out of the room.

“Xander…...Xander!”

“Oh! Sorry, Giles. I just kind of spaced out there.”

“Understandable.”

“Giles, man, what happened here?” Xander took a few more steps into the room, carefully avoiding stepping on any of the bottles scattered across the crypt floor. “Was he attacked?”

“No. At least not here, there are no signs of a struggle.” Giles walked past Xander, following his example as he manoeuvred his way around the disorder on the floor. “He has obviously been drinking, but this,” he gestured down through the hole leading to the lower level of the crypt. “Bloody hell,” he quietly cursed. “This is unbelievable.”

Xander walked over to Giles and peered into the darkness below. “What do you mean?”

Giles took a flashlight out of his bag and shone it down into the shadows. At the bottom was a massive pile of empty and broken liquor bottles.

“He couldn’t have, not by himself. That’s just…” Xander shook his head: not even Spike would be stupid enough to attempt a bender of that size.

“Crazy? Yes, I agree, but by the look of this place,” Giles waved his hand, indicating the rest of the crypt, “I would have to say that Spike is not thinking very clearly at the moment. In fact, not for quite some time by the looks of things.” He walked to the chair, bending down to look at a blood-covered shirt lying on the floor. He reached into his bag once more and exchanged the flashlight for a stake, then used the stake to snag the shirt off the ground. Examining the garment closely, he half-turned to Xander. “This shirt is still a little damp. He must still be in town, or he was last night in any case.”

“Is that his blood or…” It was completely soaked through, and Xander couldn’t help but wonder about the condition of the vampire they had come to find.

“Some of it is his. Whether all of it is, I honestly could not say. See these tears? They were most likely made by the claws of a demon of some sort.” He dropped the shirt to the ground and started towards the door.

“What? Are we done?” Xander looked around one last time before following Giles to the door.

“There’s not much more we can learn here at the moment and I would prefer not to leave Dawn alone any longer.”

“Right. Let’s get out of here. I mean, this is seriously giving me a case of the wiggins.”

With that the two men exited the crypt.

 

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Buffy stepped into the Magic Box, looking around the room to see Willow, Tara, and Anya sitting at the back table. Crossing the store, she pulled up a chair between Willow and Anya.

“Hey guys! So what’s the up ‘n up? Any new danger lurking on the oh-so-happy Hellmouth horizon?”

“No,” replied Anya as she absentmindedly flipped through an old magazine. “Not unless you count Giles and Xander taking Dawn over to see Spike.”

“What! Why am I hearing ‘Dawn and Spike’ in the same sentence? In fact, why am I hearing ‘Spike’ at all?” She quickly glanced between the three women, surprise and anger flashing across her features.

“Anya! We were trying to keep Buffy from stressing. Now you go all blah, blah, blah, and Buffy’s all, ‘Spike!’ So the whole, ‘lets not bother her’ thing goes right out the window. Thinking before speaking---try it sometime.”

“I did think. I thought ‘when Buffy finds out that they went to Spike’s she’s going to be all upset. So why not just tell her now and get it over with, and then she can’t be as angry at me.’ Since, unlike you, I had nothing to do with the whole ‘lets check up on Spike’ conversation.”

“Okay, the check up on Spike part I get, but what’s with the whole ‘lets take Buffys little -and I might add, injured- sister?” She had now focused her attention completely on Willow.

“Well she sorta threatened to go see him by herself if they didn’t take her along.” She stared down at her lap, uncomfortable under Buffy’s angry stare.

Tara came to Willow’s defence. “It’s not her fault, Buffy. Giles was the one who said she could go. Besides, it’s Spike; he wouldn’t hurt her. An-and he has the chip.”

“All right, I’m backing off. See me with the backing off?” She raised her hands palms forward in a gesture of surrender. “But I’d still like to know why they’re seeing Spike in the first place.”

Willow answered. “Dawn asked if any of us had seen him lately, and since none of us had, we figured it was time for a little undead parole check. And since we didn’t think you’d want to deal with him after the whole ‘baring his dead heart’ thing, we figured we’d take care of it for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. The last thing I want to deal with right now is Spike.” She sighed.

“I’m afraid that may not be an option.” They turned to see Giles enter from the back room. He walked past them to lean against the shop counter, looking a little haggard.

“What? Why? What happened? He didn’t do anything did he? If he hurt Dawn, I swear I’ll…”

“No, its nothing like that. What we found, well, it’s…” He turned to look at Buffy. His face was tense with apprehension. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he struggled to explain what they had seen inside of Spike’s crypt.

“Giles, speak! Tell me what’s going on!” Buffy demanded, beginning to get worried.

 

“Something’s happened to Spike.” Dawn stood at the door to the training room, her eyes sad and haunted. She slowly drifted towards a large chair in the back of the room and lowered herself into it. She pulled her legs to her chest, then laid her head against her knees, her soft brown hair falling forward to obscure her face. Moments later, Xander entered from the back, his face as dark as the Watcher’s. He seemed unsure of what to do next as he stood looking at his friends at the table. Willow glanced at Tara, worry spreading across her features, as Anya moved from the table to stand beside Xander.

“Yeah Buff, his place… it was…you should have seen it. Something of the not good variety is going on with our resident vampire.”

“OK, you guys are starting to worry me. Now tell us, what happened?” She got up from her chair and moved to stand in front of Giles.

“His crypt was in a horrid state, Buffy, and it appears to have been that way for awhile,” Giles said, placing the glasses back on as he looked at her. “I can’t be certain what happened to him, but I do fear for his current state of mind.”

“Yeah, the placed was trashed. There were empty bottles everywhere, and I’m talking Olympic-level drinking here. Not to mention the blood and the shredded threads. Whatever’s going on with him, it’s serious.” Xander paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, you know it’s big if I’m concerned for the dead guy.”

“Look, guys, so his crypt was a mess. I don’t see what that has to do with us.” Buffy tried to hide her own small amount of concern. She had never expected to see Xander and Giles this upset about the welfare of a vampire, let alone Spike.

“I know you would rather not have anything to do with him, but it is obvious that something is seriously wrong with Spike. He is, in a way, our responsibility and I feel that it would be wrong of us to simply ignore the problem. Besides, if we do leave this alone, we may end up regretting it later,” Giles explained, hoping that they would all understand.

“All right then, what do you want to do?” Buffy asked “It’s still light out and you said he wasn’t at his crypt. Maybe he’s already dust and we don’t even have a Spike problem anymore.”

“God, Buffy! How can you be so cold!” Dawn wailed, her body shaking from rage and fear. “He might be dead.”

Xander spoke up “Technically he’s already…”

Dawn turned towards Xander, fury written across her face. “Shut up!”

She spun back to face Buffy once more. “And you! All you care about is whether or not he’s your problem anymore! Don’t you care about him at all? He could be hurt and need our help,” Dawn’s voice became heavy with emotion. “I swear if you don’t help him I will. I don‘t want to lose anyone else.”

Buffy rushed to her sister’s side, kneeling next to the chair and placing her hands on top of Dawn’s, trying to calm her. “Dawn. It’s okay. I didn’t mean it like that. It just didn’t come out right. If you want me to help him I will. Okay? He’s tough. I’m sure we’ll find him as soon as the sun goes down.”

“You promise? ‘Cause I know you hate his guts.”

Buffy smiled. “Yeah, I promise. One annoying bleach blonde vamp coming up.”

Giles looked at the two sisters, thankful that Dawn had gotten Buffy to agree to help. “Then it’s settled. We’ll start trying to locate Spike as soon as the sun has set.”

 

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Mother worked quickly, pouring the last of her remaining strength into her task, but sleep once again began to claim her. She silently cursed her waning energy. The many years of slumber had left her weak and unable to finish her work. Though she had been able to save the darkling from the horrible fate the humans had imposed upon him, she was without the strength to heal his battered form. Now she was forced to release him once again into the world that had already left such a terrible mark on him. She longed to keep him with her, but she had no any other choice. She could not hold him to her any longer. The rest she would have to leave to fate. Now she could do nothing more than rest.

 

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The sun glowed an unearthly shade of orange as it drifted below the darkening horizon. The wind blew softly and the night chilled the air with its cooling embrace. He awoke, pain coursing through his body as the last traces of sleep faded from him. Sitting up, he felt more pain, sharp and clear, no longer dulled by the effects of the alcohol. Struggling to rise on unsteady legs, he was dimly aware of the fact that he should not have survived through the day. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness threatened to overcome him. He grabbed at the tree to steady himself. He could feel its cool bark beneath his fevered skin.

His head pounded and his stomach rolled as it threatened to spill what little contents it had on to the grass. “Why?” The thought raced through his pain-addled mind. Why did he have to wake once more into this miserable existence he laughingly called his life? Here he was, a freak trapped between two worlds and accepted in neither. Forced to watch from the shadows. Though he had not been searching for his death, as the sun began to rise, he had almost welcomed it. And why not? What did he have to live for anymore? He had lost everything. He closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts away. They were useless. He took a step forward, his head swimming from the force of the blood pounding though his throbbing skull.

Shit! Spike almost fell over from the sudden realization. His heart was beating! It was hammering in his chest, fear and shock causing it to pound even faster. Fuck! What the hell was happening? It wasn’t possible! He placed his hand on his chest and could feel the pounding under his ribs echoed by the throbbing in his head. Now he could feel the warmth of his body beneath his hand, the chill of the night air becoming immediately noticeable against his exposed skin.

The nausea returned with a vengeance and he double over and threw up. This couldn’t be happening: he was a vampire for fuck’s sake! He brought a shaking hand to his face and wiped the vomit from his lips, staring blankly at the vile puddle as it soaked into the grass. His whole body trembled with rage and fear. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the rush of sensations, both emotional and physical, that threatened to overwhelm him. Well, whatever the fuck was happening to him, he couldn’t just sit there all night in the middle of the forest like a bloody ponce. Ignoring the crippling pain shooting through his broken body, he began stumbling in the direction he silently hoped would lead him back to town.

 

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The Scooby gang walked quickly down the streets of Sunnydale. They had an idea of where to search for Spike, but for some reason the two Wiccans couldn’t explain, the locater spell they had used could only give them the general area he was in, not the exact spot as it should have. They said it was as if the magic were being confused by something, though they had no idea what. So the gang had spent the last two hours searching an area near the edge of town. Dawn had wanted to go with them--she was so worried about the vampire--but in the end they had managed to convince her to wait at the store with Anya.

Buffy couldn’t stop worrying about Spike and what she was supposed to do once they’d found him. It was so easy when she could just avoid him; if he wasn’t around then she didn’t have to deal with him. He’d said that he loved her. He’d even implied that he was willing to change, that he already had, but she was sure his love was just the delusion of a severely demented vampire mind. He’d merely latched on to the idea of being in love with her out of desperation.

Now that things had quieted down in her life she could look back and feel sorry for him. First, he’d lost Drusilla. Then he’d gotten the chip, not to mention his recent obsession with her. Now here he was in some kind of trouble and even she couldn’t help but be concerned. Giles and Xander described to her what they had found in his crypt and she had to admit that it worried her. Living in those conditions, like some kind of animal, it just wasn’t like him. Other vampires maybe, but not Spike. Something was definitely up and like it or not it was their job to find out what it was. Ever since they’d taken Spike in that Thanksgiving they had become somewhat responsible for him. Now, all they had to do was find him.

“So you’re sure he’s around here?” Xander asked, dropping back to walk beside Willow.

“Yeah, he’s somewhere around here. The spell might have been iffy on the exact location but it definitely indicated he was in this area.” Tara walked beside Willow, their arms linked as they tried to keep up with the others. Neither of them had said anything but both were bothered by the results of the spell. It was a sign of something. Maybe it had to do with the strange energy Tara had told Willow she had felt while meditating earlier that day. Or perhaps someone was messing with strong magic or even something to do with the powerful energies of the Hellmouth itself. The two Wiccans knew to keep their concerns to themselves, for now they had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Come on, guys, let’s just keep looking. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can find out what the hell is going on and get out of here.” Buffy glanced over her shoulder at her friends, then turned to Giles who was walking at a brisk pace beside her. “What exactly are we planning on doing once we find him?”

“I’m not exactly sure, Buffy. It will depend on the situation. We have no idea what happened to him or what condition we will find him in. Perhaps we shall be fortunate and all of our worry will have been unnecessary, but I’m afraid that this time we will not be so lucky.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I hate to say it, but I have a feeling that you’re right.”

 

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Chapter 3

 

Spike had made it as far as one of the newer cemeteries on the outskirts of town when he saw them. Three vampires. One was newly risen, but the other two were obviously veterans of the Hellmouth. He moved to avoid being seen; he was in no shape to fight and the last thing he needed was for the demon community to find out about his recently acquired heartbeat. They’d try to kill him for sure, and if he were going to die it wasn’t going to be by the hands of useless gits like these. He tried to hide behind one of the larger monuments, but his damaged body was slow and he was covered with fresh blood from a large gash on his shoulder that had reopened on the walk back into town. He had almost made it to cover when they turned to look at him, the smell of his blood catching their attention.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? If it isn’t William the Bloody himself, or would you prefer Spike?” The tallest of the vampires moved toward him with the others in tow. They stopped a few feet from him and Spike knew he was in trouble. There was no way he could bluff his way out of this. Even if he didn’t have the problem of the heartbeat, his injuries were too obvious to try and hide and at least one of the vamps knew who he was. In short, he was screwed.

“I heard you’d managed to sink even lower, but I hadn’t really believed it ‘til now.” The taller vamp leered at Spike, his yellow eyes mocking. “My, how the mighty have fallen. I just wish I had a camera, ‘cause I don’t wanna be forgetting this.”

“Sod off,” Spike growled. He searched for some way to escape, a weapon, anything, but he was well and truly buggered.

The fledgling vamp spoke. “You mean this is the freak that kills his own kind? I kinda expected a little more, I mean, this is what everyone’s been afraid of?” He looked at Spike with disgust, “Fuck, he doesn’t even smell like a real demon. What, did you roll in something?” The other veteran vampire reached into his coat and pulled out a small dagger, speaking to Spike as the other two moved to circle around the blonde vamp. “You know, I was worried this night was going to be boring. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be wrong.”

With that, the vamp with the dagger leapt forward, slashing at Spike’s face. The bleached blond tried to dodge, but as he moved to jump out of the way, his right leg gave out beneath him. The broken limb was in no shape to walk, let alone leap from danger. He fell to the ground as the blade sliced across his forehead, causing a flow of fresh blood to course down his face and into his eyes. He struggled to his knees as one of his attackers kicked him in the ribs, causing him to fall backwards, his head striking the hard ground.

Before he knew it, they were on him, viciously beating him. He could feel his bones breaking and skin splitting as they struck him, the burning pain of the dagger as it was first drawn across his chest in long stinging gashes and then plunged through his left hand, pinning it to the ground. He screamed in agony. He could tell they wanted to draw his suffering out as long as possible. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain, he was weakening faster than he was used to. Must have something to do with all the blood loss.

All of a sudden the attack stopped. As he began to slip into unconsciousness, Spike could swear he could almost hear the Slayer’s voice .

 

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“Spike! Shit! Spike, wake up!” Buffy knelt beside Spike, her heart still pounding from the fight and the sight of the beaten vampire. His face was a bloody mass of cuts and bruises and she could only guess how bad the rest of his body would look. His clothes were cut and torn and wet with blood. One of his legs was obviously broken and it looked as if his right arm might be as well. They had used a dagger to pin his left hand to the ground, stabbing him right through the palm. She reached for the dagger, pulling it out in one swift motion. Blood started to pour from the wound so she tore a strip from his already shredded shirt to bind the wound. As she wrapped the cloth around his hand she noticed the warmth of his flesh and the steady flow of the blood. At that moment Giles joined her beside Spike, the others just having caught up to her after her mad dash to reach Spike’s screams of pain.

“Giles, he’s….warm,” She whispered.

“What?”

“He’s warm. Giles. Like alive warm. And he’s bleeding a lot. Vampires don’t bleed like this!”

“That can’t be.” The Watcher knelt down opposite Buffy and placed his hand on Spike’s arm. He could feel the same strange warmth as Buffy and noted the unusually large blood loss. An odd thought suddenly occurred to him. He placed his shaking hand at Spike’s neck, and found a pulse. Weak but steady.

Spike was alive!

Giles had no idea how or why, but if the vampire was alive, then the injuries he’d suffered would be much more deadly than the Watcher had previously thought.

He looked at Buffy, trying to get her attention. “Buffy, he has a pulse. He’s alive. I don’t bloody well know how, but we have to get him out of here and treat his wounds or he could die.”

Giles looked up at Xander, who had been standing by with Willow and Tara waiting to be told what to do. “Xander, go and fetch your car and bring it as close to the cemetery gates as you can. Willow, you go with him. Tara, you stay here. We’re going to have to move Spike and we may need your help.”

Xander nodded. “Right. Will, come on.” Xander quickly headed off with Willow to get his car.

 

“What do you want me to do?” Tara asked, concern etching her voice.

“I may need you to do some kind of sleeping spell or something similar. He may wake up and I would rather he be kept asleep, as we have no idea how he will react upon awakening. Not to mention the fact that he will most assuredly be in a great deal of pain and we don’t know what’s happened to him. Until we do it’s best if we take every precaution.”

He began assessing Spike’s injuries. The vamp had lost a lot of blood but appeared to be stable. He was suffering from multiple broken bones, but none that Giles did not know how to treat himself. He was covered in cuts and gashes, some fresh and bleeding, others that had all ready started to heal and looked to be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks old. He was a mess, covered in dirt and blood, his own as well as a multicoloured variety from various other demons. With his new living status he was now susceptible to infection; they would now have to take extra care to keep his wounds clean.

“Giles, how bad is he?” Buffy had been kneeling beside Spike, putting pressure on the wound the dagger had inflicted on his hand, as she watched Giles examination.

“He’s been hurt quite badly, but if we get him somewhere safe and treat his injuries I believe he will pull through.”

Tara stood beside them as she looked down at Spike’s badly beaten form. “Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital? You said he’s alive: that means he’s human, right?” she asked, a knot of worry pulling at her stomach. She had never seen anyone so badly hurt before, and she feared what would have happened to him had they not arrived when they did. She glanced about, praying that no other demons would appear before they could manage to get Spike out of danger.

“No. I’m afraid not. We have no idea what has happened to him, and there is no way to be sure if at present he is still a demon or has somehow become human. For all we know, all this is only temporary. If we take him to the hospital we run the risk of the doctors finding something unusual. In doing that we would be placing him in more danger than he is in currently. I promise you, if his condition becomes too serious we will take him there. Regardless of the risk.”

Moments later, Xander and Willow arrived. They exited the car in a hurried rush and they moved to join the others gathered around the prone form of the suffering vampire.

“Okay, Giles, what do want us to do now?” Xander asked, as he and Willow stopped to stare down at Spike’s broken form.

Giles stood up. “We’ll move Spike into your car, it has more room than mine. You and Willow take my car and head to the Magic Box. Tell Anya and Dawn what’s happened. Xander, I’ll need you to bring me all the medical supplies you can find. I keep them stored in the training room. Do you remember where?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Medical stuff, training room. Gotcha.”

Giles continued, “Willow, I’ll need you to get whatever magic books and supplies you think we might need. I’ll leave it to your discretion; you’ll know what to bring. We’ll take Spike to Buffy’s; it’s closest and we need to act fast. When your done, bring Dawn and Anya and meet us there. All right?”

They agreed, and after some exchanging of car keys they were off to fetch his car and head to the shop.

Giles turned back to address the Slayer. “Buffy, we need to move him to the car but we have to be careful to avoid doing him any more harm. Tara, be ready in case he starts to wake up. All right. I’ll take his legs. Be mindful of his arm. Ready?”

“Ready.” God Spike, I hope you don’t feel this.

 

She hooked her hands under his armpits and on a signal from Giles they gently lifted him off the blood splattered ground. She could hear him groaning, she realized he must be feeling the pain even through the thick haze of unconsciousness. As they carried him to the car, he continued to moan in pain but remained still, his arms and legs hanging limp and lifeless. Even as they placed him in the back seat with Buffy, as she gingerly laid his head on her lap, he continued to lie still as death.

She placed one hand on his chest, carefully avoiding the numerous cuts that decorated his pale skin. She could feel his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he continued to take the breaths that he should not need to take. She placed her other hand on his head and gently began to run her fingers though his hair in an unconscious attempt to sooth.

The situation was still too unreal to her. He could not be alive; It made no sense. How had it happened? How long had he been like this? Did this have something to do with the horrible state of his crypt? Why hadn’t he come to them? Why hadn’t he asked for their help?

She shook her head: of course he had not come to them. The last time any of them had seen him they had made it quite apparent that they had wanted nothing more to do with him. Their words had been harsh and their actions clear, and for once he had gotten the message. Now she could see that they might have gone too far. If she were going to let him live, and not just here in Sunnydale but at all, she should have been prepared to keep an eye on him.

He was a vampire, she, the Slayer. It was her duty to kill his kind and when she had decided to let him live she had taken the responsibility of his continuing existence into her hands. If she did not want it she should have just staked him, instead of just leaving him in the strange, trapped existence that he had been forced into since the chip. Now months after they had abandoned him, here he lay beaten, with a pulse, slowly bleeding to death.

He was supposedly the evil, uncaring thing, and here they were the ones who had callously abandoned him when he had needed and depended on them. Whether or not any of them wanted to admit it, including Spike himself. With the chip he had become cut off from the demon world, the only thing that had kept him from killing himself had been his discovery of his ability to harm demons. Which not only severed his remaining ties with the demon world but left him with a lot of enemies. Then there were his ties to her and her friends. Once the demons had realised they had cut off their contact with him, the small amount of protection that they had given him had disappeared. He must have been a walking target.

Not only that, but they had been his only ties to the human world and therefore their abandonment of him had cut him off from that world as well. The one time they had seen him at the Bronze, they had made it clear they didn’t want him hanging around anywhere that they might frequent. So they had managed to isolate him even further.

God, they had been callous, and they were supposed to be the good guys. They hadn’t even thought of how their actions would affect him, and to be honest, if they had bothered to think about it, they wouldn’t have cared. No, they had to wait until it had gotten this far to even care, and if it hadn’t been for Dawn they wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong. They would never have been looking for him tonight and he would already be dead. They would never have known.

 

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The motion of the car pulling into the driveway snapped Buffy’s mind out of it’s internal wanderings. She lifted Spike’s head from her lap and slowly got out of the car as she heard Giles tell Tara to go in first and prepare the living room to be used as a make-shift first-aid station.

By the time they’d managed to get Spike out of the car and into the house, Tara had already moved the coffee table out of the way, and the now-vacant space of the living room floor was covered with a light blue sheet from the linen closet. They carried Spike in, and gently laid him down on the sheet. Spike’s moans had become quieter and less frequent as he continued to weaken. Just then, Tara emerged from the kitchen with a pair of scissors, a couple of wash cloths, and a bowl filled with water. She sat down on his left while Buffy sat on his right.

When Giles spoke, the strain of the night’s event were evident in his voice. “I’ll see what I can find for us to use to help patch him up until the others arrive with the supplies,” he said and then left the living room in search of anything that could be of use.

Tara started to work, carefully cutting the soiled, blood-covered garments off Spike’s battered body, trying to avoid harming him any further. “We’re going to have to get these clothes off him. You start on his coat, I’ll get the rest.”

 

It was a bit of a struggle getting him out of his duster without jarring him: his arm was broken, and blood was still seeping from a large gash on his left shoulder, but he was soon free of all the torn and soiled garments. They laid his duster off to the side so that it could be cleaned and mended while his t-shirt and jeans lay shredded in a pile by his feet waiting to be thrown away.

They sat looking at him, his body bare of its coverings except for a towel Tara had draped across his hips, and they could truly see for the first time the full scope of his injuries. His body was a mass of bruises, some having already begun to fade, others bright and fresh. Purple, blue and yellow stood out harshly against the pale white skin that was the natural canvas of his once-dead body. Cuts both deep and shallow were scattered in random patterns across his chest, breaking up the once pristine expanse of his ageless form. Dried blood covered him in flaking patches of red; his hair was sticky with it.

Soon they were working to clean off the worst of the blood and dirt from Spike’s body. They worked quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible as they washed his body. Giles returned, his arms laden with towels and Buffy’s first aid kit. He set his burden down and after checking Spike’s vitals he pulled out some iodine from the kit and began to clean the unconscious blonde’s wounds.

Moments later the others arrived, their arms full of supplies. Buffy got up and went to Dawn who stood motionless in the entryway staring at Spike’s battered form. Buffy brought her hand up and placed it on her sisters shoulder.

Dawn snapped out of her daze and looked up at Buffy, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Buffy, is he going to be okay?”

“I’m not sure, Dawn. But we’re going to do everything we can to help him.”

“What happened to him?”

“We’re not sure. When I found him he was getting attacked by some vamps, but it looks like he was hurt pretty bad before they got to him.” Buffy took the younger Summers’ arm and lead her to the kitchen. “And that’s not all.”

Buffy sat down on a stool and motioned for Dawn to join her. She sat silently, looking down at her hands as Dawn waited for her to continue.

When it appeared that Buffy had drifted off, Dawn asked, “What’s not all?”

Buffy looked up from her hands. “Sorry, its just…it’s just we’re not sure what to make of it ourselves. You see, when we found Spike.. he, well… he had a pulse, and he was warm. We have no idea why, but now being all blood losing and broken of bone is worse for him than when he was dead…undead…uh, you, you know what I mean.”

Dawn’s eyes grew wide at her sister’s explanation. “You mean he’s alive! Like human! That is so cool!” Suddenly her face fell and she looked in the direction of the living room, “Then why aren’t we taking him to a hospital? He was so beat up…” She trailed off as she turned back to her sister. Her eyes once again filled with tears. “What if he dies! You told me you would help him.”

 

“We are helping him.” Buffy took Dawn’s face in her hands, “We don’t know for sure that he’s once again a card carrying member of the human race, and until we know for sure we can’t take him to the hospital. Not until we have to. If he’s still all demony than we can’t let any doctors near him.”

Dawn looked into Buffy’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity and then pulled away and began to wipe the tears from her face. “Ok. Then what can I do to help?”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief that Dawn seemed to understand and then went on to explain. “I don’t think there’s any more you can do for him now, but you could go and get my room ready for him. I have a feeling he’s going to be staying here for a while. I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Right. I can do that.” With that Dawn got up and headed for Buffy‘s room. Ready to do whatever she could to help.

Buffy turned and put her head in her hands, her elbows resting against the island. God, what am I going to do? When will I ever get a break?

After a moment she got up and headed into the living room. Willow and Anya were sitting on the couch but otherwise the room was empty, save for the blood-covered sheet on the floor. Willow looked up when Buffy entered the room, but Anya continued to stare at her hands. She appeared deep in thought., a small frown on her face.

Buffy looked around “Where’s Spike? Did Giles….”

Willow stood up, nervously pulling on her fingers. “Giles decided that it would be better to clean and fix Spike up in the bathroom, so they took him upstairs. He has to be cleaned up really well or his wounds could get all infected.” She started to look anywhere but at Buffy. “He also said…he said Spike would have to stay here cause he doesn’t want to move him and you have the room and I know you don’t like him but he’s really hurt and I think…” She continued to nervously ramble until Buffy interrupted.

“Willow! Willow it’s okay. I already told Dawn to get my room ready for him. I figured that he wasn’t in any shape to be going anywhere.” Buffy said with a trace of a smile on her face. “Don’t worry. I’m not that much of a bitch that I’d throw an injured vampire...uh…well guy out on the street.”

Willow looked apologetic as she walked up to Buffy. “Oh no! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just I know how you feel about Spike right now. I thought you’d be upset.”

“Honestly Will, after tonight I’m not really sure what to feel about Spike.” Buffy sat down at the end of the couch. “I mean I was furious at him, never wanted to see him again, but now…”

Willow sat down on the couch between Buffy and Anya. She placed her hand on top of Buffy‘s. “And now you can’t help but be all worried about him and want to help.”

“Yeah. Something like that.” Buffy said as she closed her eyes and leaned back into the couch.

Suddenly Anya broke her silence “Is he going to die?”

Buffy and Willow both turned towards her, startled by her sudden question.

“I mean, if he’s going to die, will we be giving him a funeral? He shouldn’t turn to dust now, right? So there will be a body , and you have to bury a body.” Her eyes started to water and she looked to be on the verge of crying. “I… I just…I don’t want to go through this again. The getting sick, the hurt, the eventual dying; it just doesn’t make any sense. Why would he be made alive again if he’s just going to die because of it?” She started to wave her hand around frantically as she continued. “It‘s, it’s just so stupid. He was nice for a vampire, and I know I’ve met enough of them, so why would…why would…” All of a sudden Anya got up wiping at her eyes and quickly walked into the kitchen.

“Wow.” Buffy looked at Willow. “What was that?”

“You didn’t see her right after your Mom died. She was really upset then to. I think it bothers her so much ‘cause she never had to think about death like this when she was still all demoney.” She looked towards the kitchen. “She kept saying she didn’t understand, and we couldn’t help her ‘cause it’s not like were big on the understanding ourselves.”

“Should we check on her? Make sure she’s okay?”

“No. Let’s give her a minute.” Willow laid back on the couch with her eyes closed mimicking Buffy‘s previous position. Buffy looked at her for a second, and then she too lay back, glad to enjoy a moment of peace. She was sure there wasn’t going to be to many more of them for a while.

 

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Chapter 4

 

Dawn sat on a chair she’d brought into Buffy’s room and watched as Giles and Xander laid Spike down on the bed. They had finally finished cleaning him up and treating his injuries. He had makeshift splints on his arm and leg, his broken ribs had been tightly bandaged to help them mend properly, Giles had also stitched up all of the cuts that couldn’t be left to heal on there own and bandaged up the rest. She couldn’t believe how bad he looked. In fact, she could hardly believe he was still alive.

Alive. Huh. It was strange to think of him that way. Everyone always made such a big deal out of the fact that he was one of the undead. They never forgot, but sometimes she did. She’d forget that he was really a walking corpse, a demon in human guise. The others liked to pretend that meant that he wasn’t real, like he didn’t have feelings, but she knew better. Just because he wasn’t ‘human’ didn’t mean he didn’t feel things the way a human did. After all, was she even human?

Sure, Buffy had told Dawn that she was real, not just some ball of energy, but did that make her human? What if she wasn’t, did that mean her feelings weren’t real? Did it mean that when she’d loved Mom it had been some kind of fake version of real love? That it didn’t count?

She’d never thought Spike’s feelings weren’t real. She knew his love for Buffy was real, but that hadn’t stopped her from being pissed off at him when he’d chained Buffy up in his crypt. If some human guy had done that she would have been just as mad. Besides, she thought he was just using her to get at Buffy. That’s what they told her. Maybe she should have made up her own mind about that. What if that wasn’t true? What if--

Her thoughts were cut short by a low moan from Spike. Giles had moved his right leg, and the broken limb protested against the movement, sending jolts of pain through Spike. Dawn got up from the chair and walked over to the bed. He looked like shit, it seemed like he was completely covered by cuts and bruises. Giles finished trying to make Spike as comfortable as possible and pulled the covers over the bleached blonde. Xander had since moved to the opposite side of the bed, he was leaning against the wall, watching Spike warily.

Dawn looked up at Giles. “Is he going to be ok? I want the truth.”

Giles stood up straight and proceeded to clean his glasses. “I can’t be sure, but barring infection or other complications, I do believe he will pull through this. Actually, the fact he is still alive is something of a miracle given his extensive injuries.”

Dawn placed her hand on Spike as she looked at his battered face. “You don’t think he’s human, do you?” she said softly.

Giles placed his glasses back on. “No, I don’t believe he is. No human, save perhaps a Slayer like Buffy, could have survived such terrible injuries without emergency medical care. I was only able to provide him with advanced first aid.”

Xander spoke up, his voice harsh. “If he’s not human, then what is he? ‘Cause I’m not really looking forward to having saved him to just have it jump up and bite us in the ass.”

“Xander, please,” Dawn spoke quietly without taking her eyes off of Spike.

“Look, I’m just saying if he isn’t human than what is he? Is he still a bloodsucker? Or maybe he’s something worse. For all we know we just saved the life of an even more dangerous monster than that hell bitch we just finished putting into the ground!” Xander pushed off of the wall and was staring at Dawn and Giles almost daring them to prove him wrong.

Dawn stood clutching Spike’s hand tightly in hers, tears slowly making their way down her face. “Please, just…”

“Dawn I’m sorry but you have to face the fact that--”

Xander was suddenly cut off by a rather irate Watcher. “Xander do shut up!”

“Giles, listen--”

“No, you listen. The last thing we need right now is for you to be spouting off every random thought that enters that thick head of yours. Not only is Spike in no shape to harm anyone, we have no reason to think that he is any kind of danger to us.” He took a deep breath and then continued more quietly. “And until we have reason to believe otherwise, I would prefer that you would keep these thoughts to yourself, or a least bring them up at a more appropriate time. Don’t you see how much you are upsetting Dawn?”

“Fine,” Xander said as he walked past them to leave the room. He brushing roughly past Tara who was coming through the bedroom door. “Just don’t blame me if we all end up dead.”

Tara watched Xander rush out the room and down the stairs, then she turned to Dawn and Giles. “What happened in here?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Xander stormed into the kitchen. Paying only enough attention to his surroundings to note that Anya was sitting at the kitchen island. She looked up in shock as he began to speak , his voice angry. He seemed to exude barely contained rage.

“I can’t believe them!” He began pacing, not stopping once to look at his fiancé. “They’re actually taking that sick bloodsucker’s side over mine!”

Anya sat staring at him, barely moving as she watched him pace and forth through the kitchen.

“I was just telling them the truth. He’s a demon! Demons don’t change! They don’t just up and become good overnight. Just because he’s got a heartbeat doesn’t make him one of us all of a sudden. He was, no, wait, strike that. He is a sick killer. And yeah, I feel bad that he’s all trashed but it’d probably be better if we just let him die.”

He stopped pacing and faced Anya, so caught up in his angry tirade that he failed to notice the tears coursing down her face or that Buffy and Willow were now standing behind him in the kitchen doorway. They stood completely still. Shocked at his sudden outburst, not being able to comprehend the sheer amount of hatred that seemed to pour off of their friend. They knew he disliked the vampire, but this verbal attack on Spike seemed to come from out of nowhere.

“He should die.” Xander continued, looking straight at Anya now, his anger had long since reached it’s boiling point. “After all he’s done. And now he’s some kind of warm, blood-pumping demon. He’s probably even more dangerous than before. We should put him out of his misery before he kills someone, or brings about an apocalypse! The last thing we should be doing is keeping him safe and sound in the Slayer’s house. In her bed for god’s sake!”

“Xander!” Willow gasped. He didn’t notice: he wasn’t finished yet.

“And let’s not forget the reason we threw him out on his ass in the first place! His sick little obsession with our resident Slayer. Or don’t you remember that he chained her up and threatened her life? But hey! All’s forgiven! Who cares that the bastard tried to kill us before, that he has killed before. Wait! This all sounds so familiar. I wonder why? Oh yeah. Angel. How could I possibly have forgotten about that? That’s right I didn’t, but I seem to be the only one.”

He stopped for a moment, panting heavily as he stared at Anya. He took a deep breath and felt himself calm down. Most of the anger that had coursed through him had left him. He really looked at Anya, noticing for the first time her pained look and tears streaming down her face.

“Anya? What’s…”

“Is that really what you think, Xander?” Anya said, her voice almost a whisper. “Once a killer, always a killer? Or is it, once a demon, always a demon? After all, what’s a demon to you other than something to hack into bloody little pieces of festering goo?”

She stood up, looking him straight in the eye as she continued. Her voice was still quiet, though it trembled with emotion. “It’s not like they have feelings, isn’t that right? They can never change, never learn to be better people. Because, hey, they aren’t people to you at all, are they? Their monsters. Less than animals. And nothing they do will ever make a difference in your mind. Not a soul, not a heartbeat, no sacrifice big or small. And God forbid that they have the audacity to become human. Or would that make a difference to you? Since you asked a former demon to marry you, I think I have a right to know.”

Xander stood in shocked silence. Was that what he had said? “Anya, look. I’m sorry. You know I wasn’t talking about you. I would never…”

“Do I?” She walked by him, passing Buffy and Willow as she headed for the front door. “I’m sorry, Buffy, but I have to go…if Spike wakes up tell him I hope he feels better.”

Buffy followed Anya as she replied. “I’ll tell him, don’t worry. But I don’t think he’ll wake up tonight.”

When Xander had turned and seen his two best friends standing in the doorway he had realised they must have heard everything he and Anya had said. The knot that had formed in his stomach since seeing Anya’s tears had twisted further at her words, and had become almost unbearable upon seeing them. Their faces a mix of shock, anger and sadness, and he knew that he had just fucked things up royally.

Xander walked into the hall just as Anya was putting her boots on, and realized she meant to leave. He had to stop her. Had to make it better “Anya, wait! Let me explain.”

Anya turned and looked at him. “No, Xander. I’m going home now. I want to sleep and I don’t want you in the bed when I do. You can sleep on the couch. That is the appropriate place for the man when the woman is hurt and doesn’t want to look at him. Am I right? Or is my demon past showing through and I got another one of your human behaviours wrong again?”

With that she opened the door and walked out. Leaving the three best friends standing in awkward silence.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Tara watched Dawn sleep for a moment longer before she stood up and quietly slipped from the room. It had taken some convincing to get Dawn to go to bed, and then she wouldn’t sleep until Tara had promised to wake her if Spike regained consciousness. Even then she had asked Tara to sit with her until she fell asleep.

Tara walked down the hall to Buffy’s bedroom and leaned on the doorframe as she watched Giles gaze at the unconscious vampire. Vampire? Should we still call him that? Giles was sitting in one of the chairs Dawn had brought in, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

She waited for a few minutes before speaking. “Giles, what happened? Why was Dawn so upset? She didn‘t want to talk about it.”

He looked up startled. It was obvious he had been deep in thought. “Oh, yes--that. That was just that fool Xander being unable to keep his foot out of his mouth. He said some rather unfortunate things about Spike, and from the sound of things, he wasn’t finished.”

“Shouldn’t we stop him?”

Giles sighed heavily, as he spoke a bit of Ripper showed through. “No. If he wants to act like an ass, let him deal with it himself. I’m too tired at the moment to care.”

“What about Spike? Do you have any idea what’s happened to him? Why he’s alive?”

He sat back in the chair taking off his glasses as he ran a hand over his face. “No.” He put his glasses back on and at Tara. “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve never heard or read about anything like this before. If he were human this whole situation would have actually been simpler.”

Tara moved from the door and sat on the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Simpler? Like taking him to the hospital?”

“Yes, and though it is quite rare, there have been documented cases of vampires being returned to their original human form. But the circumstances surrounding Spike‘s transformation don‘t seem to be anything like them. Two of the three times it involved powerful dark magic and long drawn out ceremonies. The third involved a extremely rare demon called a Mohra, and that vampire was killed only hours after he was changed. On top of that, most Watchers still think they are nothing but unsubstantiated rumours or pure poppycock.”

He moved his gaze from Tara’s face to Spike’s. “And if that’s not enough to deal with, we not only have to worry about his physical state, but his mental state as well.”

Tara followed Giles‘s gaze to the vampire’s face. “What do you think happened to him? I heard you tell Buffy about his place.”

He leaned back in the chair. “I can’t be sure without actually speaking to him. We don’t know how long he has been alive or anything about what he has been doing for the past couple of months. Though a few things seem rather obvious .”

Tara looked back at Giles. “Such as?”

“By the look of his crypt, he’s been drinking heavily. And by the condition of his body, he hasn‘t been feeding. He looks dreadfully similar to when he first got the chip, barring the appalling injuries of course.”

Tara looked thoughtfully at Spike for a moment. “Giles, what about the Chip? Is it still working? Will it hurt him more now that he’s alive?”

Giles’s brow furrowed as he thought about what Tara had said. “I have no idea. Damn! That’s the last thing we need to worry about at the moment. I suppose we will just have to hope for the best when it comes to the chip, whatever that may be. There’s not much we can do about it at the moment.”

He stood up, running a hand through his hair as he sighed. “I’m afraid I need to rest. I’ll sleep here tonight, on the couch. Will you be able to keep an eye on him? He shouldn’t be left alone.”

Tara looked up at him. “Of course. You sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“Are you sure? You must be tired too.” Giles was exhausted, but well aware that they would all be after such an eventful night.

Tara smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’m used to staying up late. All-night research parties will do that to you. Besides, I’ve already let Willow know that I was planning on staying here to help tonight.”

Giles smiled back. “All right. Just be sure to get Buffy or myself if you become too tired.”

Tara watched Giles leave, then turned back to Spike, leaning forward to gently smooth his hair away from his face. She smiled softly at him before sitting back in her chair to start her vigil.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Giles trudged down the stairs, weary from the nights surprising events. He carried a blanket and pillow he had fetched from the hall closet, his thoughts still filled with questions about the injured creature currently occupying his Slayers bed. The stairs squeaked their protest to his weight as he reached the bottom, shaking his head to clear it of it’s jumbled thoughts he walked into the living room and deposited his floral-covered burden on the couch, before heading to the kitchen for a drink.

Buffy was sitting quietly at the island staring into a mug of hot chamomile tea. She appeared to be deep in thought so he said nothing and simply went to the cupboard and got himself a tall glass that he filled with water from the tap. He turned to face Buffy and leaned tiredly against the kitchen counter. He stood there drinking his water and watching his Slayer stare absently into her tea.

The sudden sound of Buffy’s voice jolted him from the intense quiet of the Summer’s house. “So how is he doing?”

Giles finished his water and set the glass in the sink. Then he leaned back, placing both palms on the counter top behind him before answering. “As well as can be expected, or…considering. He’s lost a lot of blood and we have no idea how the changes he’s gone through will effect his ability to heal. For instance, what shape his immune system is in, or if he even possesses one.”

She furrowed her brow as she thought about what he had said. “So, you’re worried about him getting sick on top of everything else?”

“Yes. I’m afraid the next days, even weeks, will be especially hard, and not just on Spike. We too will have to adjust and find ways of dealing with this unexpected situation.”

Buffy stared at Giles for a few more moments before she dropped her eyes to look into her mug of tea once again. After a minute or two of silence her voice broke the quiet once again.

“Did we screw up?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“With Spike. Did we screw up? We could have handled it a lot better. Not been as harsh, or kept an eye on him or something. Maybe if we’d done it all differently, Spike wouldn’t have almost died tonight. I just feel like it’s somehow our fault. My fault.”

Giles sighed, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “You don’t know that. We don’t know if our treating him differently would have made a bit of difference. For all we know, this would have happened had we been in his company or not. Perhaps our being there would have only made the situation worse.”

“Do you really mean that or are you just trying to make me feel better.” She looked back up at him. “Now stop being all dodgy and tell me. Do you think we screwed up?”

Giles put his glasses back on. “Perhaps in certain aspects, yes. We might have ‘screwed up’ . I think we might have made a miscalculation in our handling of Spike’s declaration of love for you. As for the rest…” he pushed away from the counter and walked up to the island to lean forward on his hands as he looked into Buffy’s eyes. “We were in no position to be worrying about Spike. Not with Glory after Dawn and the death of your mother. You mustn’t beat yourself up about this. We’re doing all we can to help now. There’s nothing we can do to change the past, we can only try to do better in the future.”

She began to speak again, but Giles pushed himself upright and waved her to be silent. “No, none of that. I insist that you go and get yourself a good nights sleep. God knows I could use one myself.”

“All right, but then who’s going to keep an eye on Spike? After Xander had his blow up everyone took off.”

“Actually Tara is still here. She is going to take the first shift.”

“I thought she left with Xander and Willow.” Buffy stood up and covered her mouth as she yawned heavily. “Well I better get some sleep then. Goodnight Giles.”

He smiled, “Yes, goodnight Buffy.”

 

 

TBC...

 

 

 

 

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