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beneath you	By : agalaxyinblueeyes Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 1505 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-beneath you
- 2-One
- 3-Two
- 4-Three
- 5-Four
- 6-Five
- 7-Six
- 8-Seven
- 9-Eight
- 10-Nine
- 11-Ten
- 12-Eleven
- 13-Twelve
- 6
- 7
- 8
beneath you

part six

"Are you okay?"
Dawn lowered her eyes, clutching an ice
pack to her forearm. "Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine."
Buffy was pacing in front of her, her
arms crossed. A look of barely contained worry, fury and fear was
on her face, and her eyes darted around the room before settling
on her sister. "Are you? Huh, Dawn? Are you really fine? You
don’t look so fine to me. You look like you just got your
ass knocked to the ground and the hell nearly beaten out of you, by
a vampire!"
The teenager refused to look at the
blonde woman, turning her head to the side to stare at her muddy
jeans. "At least I’m not dead," she muttered.
Buffy stormed over to her and grasped her
chin, tilting it up and revealing the two pinpricks on the crook
of her neck. "No, but you came pretty damn close,
Dawn!" She let go and turned away, running her fingers
through her blonde locks in frustration. "What the hell were
you thinking? Tell me, Dawn, because I’m lost, I don’t
understand! You know better than to go out at night by yourself,
so why the hell did you? I mean... Christ, Dawn, you crept off
when we were in line at the damn grocery store! What in the hell
was so damn important that you just took off like that?!"
Dawn shut her eyes tightly and sniffed,
then looked directly at her sister. In a strained, tearful voice
and between clenched teeth, she forced out, "I thought I saw
Spike."
That was a lie. A really, really, really
big lie. Because she had seen Spike. She’d gotten
pretty damn good at detecting blurry black forms with lightning
white hair moving at top speed. And she’d seen said form as
it sped past the shoppers and shot through the doors, not even
leaving a single blip on the shoplifting mechanism. Which, of
course, would be the only reason Spike would be here – after
all, he didn’t really have any money.
Dawn had slipped past the others and run
out the door after him, but stopped when it became apparent that
he was hiding. Annoying as that was, she left her
common sense behind her and began looking for him. Which was when
that stupid fledgling had shown up, hoping to get a free meal off
of an unwary passerby.
She had fought back well, just like Buffy
had taught her, when she’d made a tiny slip, and threw a
left when she should have thrown a right. The vamp had caught her
arm and twisted it back hard, leaving her with a severely pulled
muscle. Knocking her down, he’d thrown himself on top of her
and had just barely nicked her neck when suddenly, he’d
exploded, dust raining down on her body. Spike’s face had
appeared, and she’d grabbed his extended hand, pulling
herself up.
After checking her over, and rather
prolongingly (she wasn't sure if he was doing it because of his
obligation to her, or just to indulge her with special one-on-one
Spike attention), Spike had stood straight up, wide blue eyes
focused on the store. As Dawn watched him, he began to back up
fearfully, looking for all the world like a small, frightened
little boy at the imminent approach of his former lover. The
former lover who was still his pain-stakingly out-of-reach love.
He'd just backed out of sight completely when Buffy had stormed
toward Dawn.
Buffy's entire demeanor softened at
Dawn's choked voice... and at the mention of Spike. So Dawn
thought that she'd seen him, too? Maybe she wasn't
going crazy...
She moved to her sister and bent down to
her knees in front of her. Giving Dawn her best apologetic look,
she smiled weakly and said, "Dawnie... sweetie, I'm sorry. I
know I'm coming down hard on you, but honest to God, you scared
the bejeezus out of me." She cupped Dawn's cheek gently and
her smile strengthened. "I know you can take care of
yourself now. But I'm the Slayer. I'm still your big sister. So I'm
the Head Cheese. I worry about you." She gave the teen a
pointed look. "And it would be really nice if you indulged
big sis, once in a while. All I ask is that the next time you
think you see something," especially
Spike, "please, PLEASE, tell me first.
Before you decide to go off and nearly get yourself killed."
Dawn gave her that look -- the one where
she thought Buffy was being especially over-protective of her for
Buffy's own benefit, and that she was seriously contemplating
saying no, just to see what her sister would do. Then her eyes
cleared, which meant that she was reconsidering it and relenting.
Dawn rolled her eyes and shifted her hurt arm. The bright blue
irises peered up at her and softened, reading the hopeful,
pleading look on Buffy's face. She nodded slowly, sighing.
"Okay. I promise. And I'm fine. Really, it's just a bruise
and a scratch, I'll be good to go in no time."
Buffy smiled, giving Dawn a quick,
relieved hug. "I hope so." Sighing, she stood up and
flopped into seat next to Dawn. "So," she started,
hoping to God that her voice sounded all
nonchalant, "What exactly did you see that convinced you to
piston off after a Spike Look-A-Like?"
Dawn gave her sister a disbelieving Look.
"Duh. The usual signs." At Buffy's blank look she
sighed, waving her free arm. "Hello? You know? White-blonde
hair, all black, really pale skin, tall, skinny,
lean-looking?" The teenager paused and frowned. "It's
kind of unnerving how many people in Sunnydale resemble him from
behind."
There was a loud, unlady-like snort from
the Slayer, and Buffy leaned back. "I'll say. I thought I
was hallucinating for a second when I saw a clone in the
hair-care aisle." Best not to mention how
*much* I've been seeing clones. It could get Dawn's hopes up.
Dawn smiled weakly. Of course, that was
only on the outside. Inwardly, she was doing an Irish jig. Hell,
she was doing fricking River Dance. Buffy's been
having Spike-visions? Busted! she thought
delightedly. "You've been seeing Spike, too, huh?" She
looked down, sighing. "Glad it's not just me."
She hazarded a glance at her sister when
Buffy remained silent. She looked sullen; unhappy. Finally, she
answered, in a broken tone. "No. Not just you."

Stupid movie. Oh, the irony: a vampire
watching vampires. He grunted to himself. People
putting too much of a fix on Dracula he
thought, scowling. Unbelievable.
Chick on the screen screaming about
blood. Look at the blood. Nice blood. All red, and shiny, and...
pulsing with... life and... and...
Oh, hell, now he was hungry.
Damned if he wasn't having a bit of d�j�
vu. Oh, well. He sighed and scowled down at his stomach as it
growled, before hauling himself out of his chair.
He closed his eyes and drew a deep,
useless breath, then reached into his little refrigerator,
pulling out a jar of blood. Unscrewed the lid. Lifted it to his
lips.
Sound of the door being pushed open.
Horror collected onto Spike's face as he
realized why exactly it was that he
was
having d�j� vu. This had been the premise of he and Buffy's
invisible tryst the year before. He squeezed his eyes shut, hot,
blood-tinged tears that hadn't been called upon leaking out from
under his eyelids and leaving bright red streams down his pale,
sunken cheeks. "Please, no," he whispered, sinking to
his knees. "God, please, not this again... Don't torture me
like this, please..."
Soft, feminine footsteps crept inside,
and then... her soft voice... reaching into his dead,
lonely, aching heart: "Spike? Are you here?"
He sniffed and wrapped his arms around
his legs, drawing his knees to his chest, sniffling as he cowered
next to the sarcophagus. He couldn't let her see him, couldn't
let her know he was there. His nightmares had been getting worse,
and he wasn't in any condition to be in her vicinity right then,
right there. Besides, bad things would happen the second she
found him. Glorious, earth-shaking things, things that he'd
wanted from her for years... but things bad enough that they
would leave his agonized heart whirling 'round in a garbage
disposal if they happened again.
She spoke up again: "Spike?
Please... if you're here -- and I know you are, so stop hiding...
could you please come out? I need to talk to you."
Spike sniffed again, choosing to remain
in the shadows. "How'd you know I was here?" he asked,
quietly, his voice rough and low.
The footsteps neared, then stopped at the
edge of the sarcophagus. "Dawn told me," she murmured
gently.
Oh, he was gonna kill her. "Big
mouth," he muttered.
He heard the sound of a half-amused
laugh. "That's Dawnie for ya." The footsteps came
closer to him. He dared to raise his eyes -- at least a little,
to see her feet. Oh. Cute, little silver-painted Slayer toes.
Little silver toe ring on the second toe of the left foot. Little
wicker-like platform sandals that criss-crossed over the top, and
-- dammit!
"So..." she started softly,
shuffling her feet and shifting onto her right foot. "You
came back."
Spike grunted. "Yeah, an' I'm
kicking myself for it, believe me."
Buffy leaned against the wall, sliding
down to the ground next to him. Distinctly hurt voice.
"Why?"
Spike chanced another glance at her, then
instantly regretted it. Gods, she was exquisite. Floofy,
sunbleached blonde hair, nearly white now. She had bangs -- he
hadn't seen her wear bangs since the first time he'd met her.
Puffy-sleeved shirt -- boat-necked -- hanging on her tiny,
skinny, muscular form. Gold skin positively glowing, though it
was pitch black in his little House of Death, save for the
precious few candles. And... well, hell.
He growled softly. I'm
not s'posed to want her anymore, he reminded
himself. Stupid bloody wish demon. Why couldn't things go his
way for once?
He looked down again. "Because you
don't need me here. Gumming up the works, making your head all
topsy-turvy, ruining your patrolling an' what-not. I never
should've come back... I don't even know why I did."
An awkward silence. Then, a tiny Slayer
hand closing over his clenched fist, gently stroking the hard
line of muscles and bones. "I'm glad you did."
Spike started, jerking his hand away. He
stared at her, wide-eyed and fearful. "Don't... don't touch
me. You don't need to, shouldn't have to. I'm evil, remember?
I..." he trailed off, looking down. "I tried to rape
you," he whispered.
They both winced at the guttural sound of
the word. Harsh, hurtful, painful... just like their
relationship. What a perfect end to such a twisted connection. It
could have been better -- it should have
been better, for the both of them. Their relationship could've
ended better than it had. Their relationship itself
should have been better than that. And Buffy couldn't pass it off
onto someone else -- most of the downward spiral had been her
fault anyway.
Too late. Always too late.
Buffy reached for him again, this time
cupping his chin, stroking his smooth, angled cheek with the back
of her hand. "You tried," she
agreed. "You didn't--"
"Because you
stopped me!" he cried. "The only reason I stopped was
because you kicked me into the bloody wall! Buffy, what if you
hadn't? What if you'd been too hurt to... to do anything, what if
you couldn't have stopped me, and what if I couldn't have
stopped? I couldn't stop! Buffy, I would
have raped you, and I wouldn't have even known it! You should be
damned lucky you managed to kick me away!"
Buffy stood up again, staring down at
him. "Well, Spike, what the hell do you want me to say? That
you fucked up? Yeah, you did, there's no way to smooth that over.
But I fucked up, too. I used you, I twisted you into a knot, I
stuffed you into a fucking closet and pulled you out when I
needed you for a good release, like a fucking dildo! So don't
bullshit around and complain and whine and say that it was all
your fault! What the hell kind of person would I be if I let you
take all the blame?" She dropped back down to hers knees and
cupped his chin, lifting his head so his gaze was level with
hers.
"Spike... all you did was love me,
and all you wanted was for me to love you back. And I ignored
your feelings. I used you, selfishly, and I'll never forgive
myself for that. I know you love me, you've shown me more than
once, and I tried to pass it off as obsession and lust. You tried
to protect me... like when the Trio made me think I'd killed
Katrina. You just wanted to stop me from turning myself in so I'd
still be there for Dawn. And in the end, I found out I hadn't
even killed her at all. And you wanted to take care of me. Like
at the Doublemeat Palace, when you tried to get me to quit? You
said you could get money, and you told me that I was too good to
work there. You were just trying to take care of me, then. And
I'm sorry I didn't stop and listen to you, hear what you had to
say."
Sighing softly, she pulled him toward
her, resting her head against his shoulder. "I can't forgive
myself now, for the things I did to you. But maybe I can start if
you forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, and you don't have to
mean it, but I just need to hear it to get on the right foot,
Spike." She tilted her head up, sparkling green eyes
scanning his fate hopefully. "I'm so sorry, Spike. Will you
please forgive me?"
Spike was quivering. These words, these
kind, apologetic words that were pouring out of his beloved
Slayer's mouth, were for him. He, Spike,
who had caused her more pain than... well, than anything. There
had been a point in time when he'd hated her so much that he'd
lived for nothing but her pain, both
physical and emotional. Now he could barely stand it if she so
much as stubbed her toe. He'd tried to rape her, he'd betrayed
her trust in the worst possible way, and she was asking him to
forgive her. How the hell did that work?
How could he bestow forgiveness on her, when he'd gotten
everything he'd deserved from her? How could he even have the
right to forgive her when he'd tortured her so much?
How could he forgive her when he couldn't
even forgive himself for a single thing in his
century-plus-twenty-two years?
But that look she was giving him... that
look was hopeful, and depressing, and begging and pleading... She
wanted him to forgive her, even though he'd been the one to
eternally fuck things up between them.
Well... he'd never been able to deny her
anything before. Even though he didn't feel he had the right to
bestow forgiveness on her... it was what she wanted. And he'd
always do whatever she wanted.
His lips creaked open, and his cool,
moist tongue darted out to refresh them, before he whispered,
sincerely, "I forgive you, Buffy." But
can you forgive me?
he thought dismally.
The smooth, golden hand touched his face
again, and his attention jerked toward her. Her tiny hand clasped
his large one, and Buffy brought it slowly to her lips, kissing
the back of it gently. Her eyes were sparkling again as she
looked up at him... like she was reading his mind, she whispered,
"I forgive you, Spike."
His chest convulsed. Had she... she had
just... Holy hell... she really had.
Either he'd died for the second time, and
was mixed up in the afterlife, being sent to Heaven, or Buffy had
finally gone insane.
He chanced another glance at her, her
wide, loving eyes, her soft, smooth lips curving up into a gentle
smile...
Oh, damn, he was dead. There was no way
on earth the real Buffy would forgive him for the things he'd
done to her. For the things he'd plotted doing to her before he'd
even met her, when she'd simply been known to him as 'Slayer'
instead of 'Buffy,' his love, his life.
Well, if he was dead, this was better
than being on earth.
He let out a soft sigh of relief and
dropped his head to her shoulder, snuggling into the crook of her
neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, grabbing
her tightly.
He felt her smile and she reached up to
gently stroke his hair, her smile growing wider when he butted
his head against her hand like a cat. "It's all right,
Spike," she murmured soothingly, pulling him close.
"It's all right now... you're safe, you're forgiven."
He felt her lips press a kiss to his forehead, and he purred,
snuggling closer.
After a moment, he peered up at her,
biting his lower lip hopefully. It was such a childish thing to
do, and the sight of it made him look so sweet that Buffy had to
smile. "I still love you," he whispered. "I really
do... I mean, I know you'll not feel anything for me... you don't
love me... but just so you know... I still do. Love you."
Buffy's smile grew. "I know, Spike.
I know you do. And I realized it a while ago... right after you
left." The corner of her mouth drooped, and she gave him
half-smile. "You know me. Queen of De Nile. Of course I
wouldn't figure it out until you were gone. But I know, Spike. I
know you love me." Her hand reached up to stroke his hair
again. "And I love you, too."

__________________
Spike's eyes shot wide open, and he
stared up in disbelief where Buffy was... wait. Where Buffy had
been. She was gone now. He looked down around himself and
frowned. Crumpled bed sheets. He wasn't anywhere near the
sarcophagus. Buffy hadn't found him, courtesy of the Big Mouth he
called 'Dawn.' Buffy had never been there.
Bloody hell. Of course it would be a
dream.
He sighed and leaned back, his spirits
dampened. But then, a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
What a dream it had been though. Buffy had said she'd loved him.
It was more than he ever could have
wanted.
Sighing, he snuggled back into the
sheets, grabbing his pillow 'round the middle and hugging it
close. His head fell down into the little crook he'd made (a
substitution for Buffy's neck, he guessed) and smiled slightly.
His dreams now were filled with terror
and pain and guilt from his past actions, but on the off-chance
that that the soul wasn't being a self-righteous bitch about his
sins, it tended to give him a rare, precious few good dreams.
When it did, they usually meant something important. And he
couldn't think of anything more important than what his
Dream-Buffy had just told him.
Even if he never saw her face to face
again, the reassurance and love he felt from those final five
words she'd spoken in his dream would be enough to sustain him
for the next century and a half.
He rather liked the dreams now.

She was never going to step foot into an
airport ever again.
Dawn had sworn the whole way there,
unable to understand exactly why she had to go anyway (she still
wasn't exactly big with the whole Willow forgiving thing). Buffy
had been nearly livid, being attacked and torn apart from every
direction inside -- anger and sympathy at Dawn (for tonight and
her vamp attack the night before). Relief at seeing Giles.
Apprehension because of Willow. Annoyance at Xander (who was
heading full-steam into his 'I'm hella nervous, so I'm telling
bad jokes' stage), plus an attack of depression from the newest
bout of Spike-induced guilt, Spike-missage, Spike-hate,
Spike-love, and all other things Spike.
Oh, no, she was definitely putting the
past behind her.
Dawn had welcomed Willow back with a
stiff nod and handshake; Giles received a weary smile and a hug,
and after Xander had welcomed the two back, Dawn had dragged him
off toward a kiosk to extort numerous amounts of candy and
magazines out of him. The rest of the way home after that, any nicety Willow had attempted toward the girl had either been
ignored or met with a cold glare.
Well,
Buffy thought, Willow tried to kill her twice, so
I guess it's justified, even if it is
a lot rude.
It was nearly one in the morning now, and
she and Giles were the only ones up. It was a good thing, seeing
her Watcher again. She'd been scared as hell the first time he'd
left her, having to fend for herself, when Giles and her mother
had always been there for her. She'd been exuberant and relieved
when he'd returned in May, though it had majorly sucked that the
cause of his visit had been under such dire circumstances.
Now, as she sat there watching him sip
his tea and glower at some inept reporter on the television, she
puzzled worriedly over whether to tell him about her
Spike-plagued thoughts. Giles had made it no secret that he
wasn't fond of Spike, though to be honest, at one point, he'd had
infinite more respect for the blonde than he'd had for Angel. Of
course, most of that had stemmed from the fact that Angelus had
been torturing him for an hour at the time, and Spike had finally
put a stop to it.
But Giles did not
like Spike, especially not after Buffy's affair with him last
year. She wasn't sure if Giles understood that most of it had
been her own doing. That sleeping with him had been her own
decision, and that she'd used him,
not the other way around. At one time, Buffy had figured that
sleeping with Spike might shut him up and put a stop to all his
nonsense of loving her. But when fucking him into the ground had
only proved to make his admissions even more pronounced, she
hadn't been able to do anything but break things off. And now
with him gone, it was safe to admit that she was going absolutely
crazy without him.
"Giles?"
The Watcher barely peered up from his
glowering. He looked like he was ready to reach through the
television set and throttle the news announcer. 'Gang on PCP,'
indeed. Someone had been taking lessons from Snyder and the
Mayor. "Hmm?"
Buffy bit her lower lip nervously.
"I... W-Well, the thing is... I, uh... I sort of.... miss...
Spike."
Giles stopped with the teacup halfway to
his lips, then shot the apprehensive girl a sideways glance. He
sighed internally. Hoo, boy, he should've known this
was coming.
He shifted in his seat, turning kind,
unjudging eyes to her. What Buffy needed right then was someone
to listen to her, not judge her and ask her if she was completely
off her rocker. Which was probably why she'd waited to ask him
until after Xander had gone and Willow and Dawn were asleep.
"And?" he prompted gently.
Buffy squirmed around a little, sitting
on top of her hands in an effort to not grab a pillow and rip it
to shreds in frustration. "And... um... well, I'm not the
only one. Dawn misses him, too." She looked up suddenly with
desperate eyes. "But why should I miss him? After what he
did to me? I feel like he's around all the time, watching me,
waiting for me to slip up again, so he can laugh and point and
say, 'I warned you,' or something else irritatingly profound to
show that... that somehow, someway, he was right, and I was wrong
about something." She whimpered. "Make it stop!"
Giles couldn't control the tiny smile
that wormed it's way onto his lips. When it came to her romances
(as of late, anyway), Buffy had a habit of trying to pool it off
on other people for advice. He sighed softly, tilting his head
slightly to the right. "What would you like me to stop,
Buffy?"
She grabbed her head, clutching at her
hair. "This! All of it! The pain, the guilt, the
nostalgia... for God's sake, Giles, I miss Spike!
Evil, soulless,
tried-to-kill-me-numerous-times-and-nearly-raped-me-once Spike! Why
would I miss him? After everything he's done to me, after
everything he's put me through? He's still up here," she
pointed at her head, "still taunting me, and teasing me, and
telling me that he loves me, and that I'm never gonna find anyone
else, because anyone else would never love me as much as he
does!"
She took a deep breath. "The night
after the first... time," she looked at Giles wearily and,
finding him resolutely quiet, continued on, "He told me that
after what we'd done, I'd never be able to get him out of my
skin. And it feels like he's right, and I don't want that! I want
him out, I want him to leave me alone! He's been gone for four
months, and he still won't leave me alone, Giles! Why can't I get
him out? Why won't he let me be?"
Giles faced her, turning fully in his
seat to watch as her big hazel eyes filled with tears. He
gestured to her, and in an instant, Buffy had thrown herself at
him, burying her face in his chest and crying. He sighed. His
poor, brave little girl. Unable to deal with her guilt, unable to
deal with her love, unable to give the ones she loved their due.
And absolutely, positively scared to
death of letting another in.
It frightened him, this fact. Somehow,
he'd always known it would have come down to this. Buffy had
always had too much passion when dealing with Spike, and vice
versa. He'd noticed this the first time Spike had come to
Sunnydale. When Spike had crashed into the old high school on
Parent-Teacher Night (and before Giles had grabbed Jenny and
Xander and barricaded themselves in the library), the way Spike
had looked at the young Slayer had been... almost overwhelming
with desire. And unnervingly connected in some places with lust
and hunger. Buffy was what he hoped would be his third recorded
Slayer, and he'd been anxious for the thrill of the fight more
than anything.
He'd noticed that Buffy and Spike had
always been strangely possessive of one another. When it came
right down to fighting each other, Spike always went for Buffy,
and Buffy never overlooked Spike.
Buffy had even said it herself once: when
she'd met Spike, she'd met her match. Spike was every bit her
opposite, and at the same time, the only one she truly felt equal
to. He matched her strength and skill blow for blow, right down
to their battle of wits and smarts. They were cut from the same
swatch; the only problem was that Buffy tended to overlook that.
Over the years, she'd begun to prefer thinking of vampires and
demons, and all other things without souls were beneath her. And
she tended to get carried away when it came down to Spike, her
resident, chipped-up vampire punching bag.
He should've been wiser, should have seen
it earlier. Buffy had overcompensated in her disgust toward Spike
ever since the 'will be done' spell Willow had cast to make them
believe they were engaged. She'd carried on with Spike, almost as
if she were attempting to convince, not only the others, but
herself, that she hated him as well. Her return from death hadn't
really helped things either.
Buffy had been sobbing in his arms for
almost ten minutes, and her tears had just now begun to dry.
"Make him go away... make me stop thinking about him,
please..." she whimpered quietly, and Giles frowned. He had
no idea what to say to her that wouldn't set her off -- another
thing that the Slayer and Spike had in common. Both had fiery,
uncontrollably short-tempers, and were both as stubborn as asses.
The only difference between their characters was that while Buffy
denied everything and anything under the sun that didn't fit
comfortably into her world view, Spike had been honest --
brutally honest. A day could truly not have gone by without one
of his sarcastic words, or harsh opinions.
"Buffy," he murmured gently,
nudging her up and off his chest. Giles gazed down at her, warmth
and love in his eyes. "What is it, precisely, that you want
me to make go away? What... what is it that you feel for
him?"
Buffy stared at him, her expression
stating that the final apocalypse would come with the words she
said. "Love?" she questioned more than stated, her
voice breaking at the end. "I think... I don't know... do I
love him? Do I even want to?" She
looked down. "I shouldn't. It's wrong. I shouldn't still
want him after all that's happened. I shouldn't feel like my
heart is getting ripped in half every time I look at his old
duster, or when I hear his name, or when I see anything or anyone
that reminds me of him. I shouldn't feel this way. But I can't
stop... I can't help it, Giles." She stared at him,
defeated. Her flood of tears had broken open the door labeled
'Spike Emotions' that she'd kept so well hidden over the last few
years. And for once, not only was she thinking clearly when it
came to Spike... but she was being honest. With Giles, and with
herself. "I... think I'm in love with him."
She sniffled, putting her face in her
hands. "Only I realized it too late. Again. And he's gone.
He's just..."
Her head shot up as she heard the
floorboards creak upstairs. Giles followed her gaze, and after a
moment, he heard it too. A thump sounded on the roof above the
porch, and Buffy frowned. The only people who had ever had the
nonsense to climb onto the porch roof had been Angel, herself,
and...
Her eyes widened, and she dashed up the
stairs. Rounding the corner, she burst into her old room, then
winced and crept slowly to the window when she remembered that
Willow was sleeping in there now. Spike didn't know that she had
changed rooms; he probably thought she still resided in her old
one, and would probably be beyond confused if he found Willow
there instead.
Opening the window, she leaned on the
tips of her toes and peered out hopefully. "Spike?" she
whispered. She glanced around for a full minute, but her vamp
detection didn't go off. Not once. Her lower lip trembled and she
called his name again. And again. Until she was practically
begging.
"Spike, come back... please come
back," she whimpered.
Ten minutes later, she sighed and lowered
her head. If she stayed here any longer, she was going to wake up
Willow. And it looked like her begging was a bust. If it had been
Spike, he'd probably high-tailed it the second he'd heard her
feet pound up the steps. And if it hadn't been... well, she'd
just been imagining things again.
Shaking her head, she left her old room,
then down the hall to poke open Dawn's room. Her eye scanned the
bedroom all over until it glanced toward the bed and --
Her insides froze. Dawn wasn't
in bed. And the window was open. Buffy's teeth
clenched. Oooh, she was gonna kill the little brat. That
was what the thump on the roof had been. Dawn had snuck out the
window and down the tree. Buffy groaned to herself. "Dammit,
I knew I shouldn't have let her catch me
all those times. She's turning into me!"
She jogged down the stairs, nearly
jumping out of her skin when Giles stopped her. "What is it,
Buffy?"
The Slayer sighed. "We have an
escapee on our hands. Dawn snuck out. And I think I have a vague
idea of where she might be. Stay here so Willow won't be
alone." She walked to the hall and grabbed her coat.
"I'll go and see if I can find her before some Big Bad tries
to make her into Snack Sizes."

"Gin!"
Spike scowled. "Dammit, Nibblet,
that's not fair!" He leaned over her, attempting to see her
cards. "How the hell do you figure you managed that?"
Dawn grinned and whapped him on the nose
with the cards. "Luck?"
Spike snorted. "Sheer dumb
luck. Wicca Girl hasn't been teaching you magic or nothing, has
she?"
Dawn glared at him, her features turning
stone cold. "No. I told you. I refuse to have anything to do
with her. Every time she gets near me, she seems to want to kill
me. And I'm getting really sick of every evil baddy trying to use
me as a pawn in their game against Buffy!"
Spike held up his hands in surrender,
backing away. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Just asking, 'Bit."
She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I
know."
Spike smirked, then his eyes lit up and
he jumped up. "I got somethin' for you."
The teenager's patented 'ooh, prezzies'
Look took over her face. "Really? What? Anything cool?
Dragon fang or something?"
The vampire turned and stared at her
strangely. "No... CD's."
Dawn grinned. "Ooh! Even
better!"
Spike shook his head. It wasn't very
often that a sixteen-year-old girl could scare the crap out of
him.
He went over to his dresser, pulling out
the Linkin Park album and the Our Lady Peace CD. Walking over to
the brunette, he handed them to Dawn, watching as her face lit
up, before the frown appeared.
"Hey... I already have this CD. And
Buffy's got this one, I can borrow it anytime. Why're you giving
these to me?"
Spike grinned. "Because you let me
borrow your CD, remember? And Buffy... in a way... kind of let me
borrow the Our Lady Peace."
Dawn raised her eyebrows. "How did
she 'kind of, in a way' let you borrow it?"
"I nicked it."
"It figures."
Spike threw a pillow at her. "Shut
up."
Dawn laughed, then took a closer look at
the CD. Looked up at Spike, confused. "These are new. I've
had Linkin Park for about 2 years already."
Spike's upper lip quirked. "Uh...
yeah. That's cuz... uh... well, Clem sat on 'em."
Dawn's eyes widened. "Clem sat on
them so you went and bought us new ones?"
Spike shrugged. "Uh, yeh. I
did."
A grateful smile came onto her face,
before being replaced once again with a frown. "Clem sat
on them?!"
Spike chuckled. "Jus' before I left.
Plopped down right on top of 'em, the big behemoth, heard 'em
crack. Stood up and CD pieces were stuck to his ass."
Dawn snorted. "Euw... I'm glad you
didn't try to piece them together for me."
Spike nodded. "Me, too. I had to
help Clem get the damn things out, and that was fun enough."
Giggling, she continued. "Not to
mention the fact that Buffy would never forgive you if she found
out that you 'borrowed' her CD, Clem sat on it, and you had to
dig it out of his butt."
Spike glared at her. "Thanks for the
support, luv." Not to mention the fact that she's
never gonna forgive me anyway.
Comfortable silence for a moment as they
restacked the cards. Then, from Spike: "So, ah... how... is
Buffy?"
A-ha! Hint time! Maybe she could get him
to actually listen to her this time. "Depressed, mostly. She
can't sleep too well. And, like I told you before, she's been
really mopey since you've been gone --"
Spike sighed. "Bit..."
Innocence all around. "What? You
asked me how she was, and I'm telling you!"
Spike frowned at her. "Pidge, I
can't come out in the open and face her, you know that. She needs
me to leave her alone, and coming after her to try and make her
feel better doesn't exactly qualify as leaving her alone."
Upstairs, the crypt door opened and shut,
but Spike didn't hear, because Dawn was suddenly wailing.
"Spike, please! She
needs to see you, I know she does! She's doing so well, but every
time someone mentions your name she resorts to No-Speak-Buffy.
And it sucks, it really, really sucks, because you're holding her
back like that. She needs to see you, she needs to know you're
back, so she can move on, and then maybe you two can, like,
forgive each other and get on with it!"
Spike frowned, standing up and moving
around her. "Dawn, I can't! She made it
perfectly obvious to me that she doesn't want me around, so why
should I ruin her perfect little illusions by popping right back
up and pissing her off all over again? What the hell's the point?
Why should I do that to her?"
Dawn pouted. "Spike, she misses
you. You know she does, you know you miss her too!
So stop with the missing and get with the loving already! Just.
Go. See her!"
Spike spun and looked at her, his back to
the steps. "NO, Dawn! She doesn't need me around, doesn't
want me around, and I'm not about to fuck up her life again!
She's gonna find me soon anyway, and when she does, I'm as good
as dead. Just leave it be. At least now, I might stand a chance,
fight back a little bit, but when it's over, Buffy's gonna finish
me off. I'm done for, and it's better that way. I love her too
much to stand in her way, and I'm not about to -- " he
stopped, seeing that she'd lost her focus on him. She didn't look
remotely interested anymore. In fact, she looked downright
terrified. "Bit? Baby? What is it?"
Dawn swallowed hard and pointed behind
him. And suddenly, Spike was rushed with an onslaught of emotion.
Dread filled him as the familiar tingling ran up his spine. He
turned around slowly and stared at the steps in absolute fear.
The young, blonde woman standing on the
steps gaped at him with something akin to horror.
"Spike?"
- 6
- 7
- 8
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